By S. R. DONGERKERY
The gentle swell of a Bhairav Khyal awakes
A sleeping world to splendours of the morn;
A silver-cadenced voice the silence breaks,
Creation’s song upon its wings upborne.
While the noonday sun rains scorching shafts of
fire,
Forged in the vaulted furnace of the sky,
Love’s liquid Sarang strains of calmed
desire
Upon the air in languid fountains die.
The evening’s cool and jasmine-scented breeze,
Laying its balm upon a weary world,
Calls forth a Purvi song of life’s surcease,
And the soul’s flag, star-spangled, is unfurled.
When Night advances in her conquering stride
To seize the throne of mystery-laden power,
Darbari welcomes her with sovereign pride
To share his kingdom for one secret hour.