The sycophant played an occasion,
in his flattery tunes.
And Obtruded by his tunes,
The king lay there in obsession.

Like the mysterious leviathan,
‘The king’ was a hero too with miracles.
Illustrious - illusions were made a representation.
And it did miracles for the oracles.

Blend in tunes were they;
In trance were their souls.
Opaque were his play
Opaque to truth and souls.

Those were the king and his men
All willing to say a ‘Wah’,
when the king said one. And none
Bothered or worried but never failed ‘Wah’.

Legacy is not always legible;
But still we accept and pray.
For life is better than a funeral; graceful
Weren’t the days but we shall still live and not be a prey.

“‘Kharahapriya’ – it took me to heaven”
The king said.
“’Harikhamboji ‘– it is my lord of heaven”
His sycophant said.

Incorrect was the king and his flatterer;
He shifted to ‘khamboji’ long before.
Incorrect was the king and his flatterer.
And neither did they worry about the truth so condor.

Who shall hear a peasants say?
Be it truth or fact,
Who shall hear an untouchables say?
For all they care is to protract.

Kingdoms may come and kings may come;
But we shall only stand behind the veil,
and behind that veil for ages to come.
With time left to heal us and pale.

written from the painting above - the protagonist here is the man behind the veil with his head just peeping in.

written for ekphrasis

image credit - Samik Bhattacharya- ekphrasis


  1. well written!!!!
    nice to c ur writings, apt to the given situations :) keep it up!!!


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