Through the Window of Taj Mahal

A Poem from the Book:
“Through the Window of Taj Mahal” ( a book of 30 poems)

Lost in amazement,
He was standing in the Palace of History
And through the window of Taj Mahal
He could see elephants marching
From the Gate of Emerald,
All the way to the Coast of Blood.
 
The redness of blood had made his heart heavy,
And emerald had dazzled his eyes
In such a way that he had forgotten
The Teacher of History who said:
“O child,
If you fail to understand the past,
You will never know the Future;
Read History!”
 
And the train of elephants came from the past,
And he, amazed by that glorious game,
Asked:
“Father,
Were the Maharajahs good men?”
 
Frustrated and helpless,
I was standing in front of Numbers;
The numbers I had:
1 wife, 2 shirts, 3 children;
And the numbers I wanted:
1 justice, 6,000,000,000 brothers and sisters,
And 1 window;
And the numbers that frightened me,
Or filled me with hatred,
With nausea,
With anger,
With…
 
Frustrated and helpless,
I was standing in front of those numbers,
And no comparison was possible.
Stupidly naive,
I was wondering
If for only one day
All the people of the world
Would stop wearing perfume,
Then for how long
The flowers that would not die prematurely
Could scent the air,
And for how long Famine would remain in retreat!
 
This was my thought when he said:
“Father,
Were the Maharajahs good men?”
More frustrated, more helpless than before,
From the snake pit of Numbers, I said: “No!”
And he asked:
“Were they great people?”
I said: “No!”
And he asked:
“What then were they?”
I said: “They were only Maharajahs!”
And my son began to laugh and said:
“Maharajahs were only Maharajahs!”
And he was still laughing when,
In a serious tone, I said:
“My dear son,
Go and read your History,
And let me read my Daily Paper!”
 
I saw him watching the past
Through the window of Taj Mahal
With amazement,
Still not remembering
The Teacher of History.

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