Zenana.. ( Part of the house/ palace where women were confined to)
Why does this city linger, in my unremembered dreams,
Not for its mahals, forts or finery
But for women
who raised them all – Maharajas, rajputs and craftsmen..
Their zenanas, , their loneliness
forever a royal,
Forever living it’s ways,
Forever, knowing their promised predicament
Forever, not knowing the wonders of the world..
The magnanimity of it all,
To be part princess, part prisoner,
Partly loved and partly not,
And one wonders what do riches mean, if one isn’t free?
But given a choice, wouldn’t we all give it our all,
to protect our own rightful imprisonment?