Ishita Deshmukh's Blog, page 4
June 12, 2018
March 5, 2018
Sridevi
Disclaimer: These pics are taken from the web.
Death is the only finality. Everything else can be reversed.
As the world still reels in shock from the death of an iconic female superstar of our country, Sridevi, I am confused at the force with which it impacted me.
I am by no means her biggest fan, nor have I seen all her movies. But then why do I feel that someone from my family has departed. Why then the shock, the pain and the sense of bereavement? Why did I follow every news channel for the past week, why did I google for news every couple of hours and why did I try to watch every live clipping that I could get, sitting here in Singapore?
Because she is an integral part of my life, albeit unknown to me until now.
Because she is not only a movie star, but she also represents experiences. The experiences of my childhood. The times when I came back from school at 4 pm, and watched scenes of Chaalbaaz, Mr. India, Chandni, Inquilaab and many others, while having a quick snack, before rushing back for the two-hour sports sessions. There are some movies, I have not watched in its entirety, but had only seen those scenes that ran from 4 pm – 4:45 pm over and over again, as the channels repeated the popular movies at exactly the same afternoon slot.
Disclaimer: These pics are taken from the web.
The twinkling eyes, the shy smile, the pixie like quality in some of her characters, the subdued grace in others, the childlike innocence and the infectious laughter — they can never be forgotten.
The last scene of Sadma, which even now, gives me the shivers. The desolation, the poignancy, the pathos seemed too real to brave watching it again. What a powerful performance, so subtle that it created magic.
Sridevi… it seems blasphemous to call her by her name, it seems less respectful; she reminds me of the happy times, when we played Antakshari as young teenagers and sang songs from her latest movies. The lazy Sunday afternoons, when we would watch a movie with the whole family. The times we would try to mimic “Mere Hathon Mein Nau Nau Chudiyaan” and fail miserably. The pleasure of innumerable moments surrounded by love, happiness and security of my family, as we together celebrated her art.
Disclaimer: These pics are taken from the web.
Not to forget, English Vinglish, my mother’s favourite and mine too. I must have watched it over 10 times, and many more times, the last monologue, when she proves her strength (not necessarily proving her husband and children wrong).
Disclaimer: These pics are taken from the web.
Every film that we watched, every song that we sang, every scene that we recreated in our minds, was with the hope that there would be more. Or at least another glimpse of her real life, a peek into her day and a chance to pledge allegiance. But unfortunately, the dream ended into a nightmare.
Being a writer, I am often a nosy parker. I google people. Find out about their lives, their secrets, the scandals, the unsavoury truths. Then move on to those mentioned in the first stories. And so spend hours snooping. But right now, I didn’t google a thing. I didn’t need to. For I am not writing an article for a magazine. I am not even writing a fan story. I am simply sharing my sense of loss and the fact that I still cannot believe it.
That is the impact of a superstar. Not just the acting, not just the performance, not just the mastery over the craft. It is the ability to infiltrate into people’s lives, without their knowledge and become a permanent yet invisible member of the family – whose presence is felt, ironically, only by his death.
Disclaimer: These pics are taken from the web.
Life is so strange. There are so many twists. And the turns are no less. When such a disastrous incident occurs, one either momentarily becomes afraid of the future, or one tries to dig in deep to find a so-called logical reason to believe the unbelievable. The former often destroys one’s own inner peace, the latter can disparage the deceased’s reputation. But in either case, there is no solution. Only a lesson.
Death is the only finality. Everything else can be reversed.
As I bid good-bye to future memories, I am reminded once again of the famous lines…
Kaate Nahi Katate Ye Din Ye Raat
Kehni Thi Tumse Jo Dil Ki Baat
Lo Aaj Main Kehti Hoon… I Love You!
With that last avowal, I urge everyone to cherish their loved ones, to cherish every instance, every adventure, every moment. But above all, to cherish Life. It has meaning, it should not end without one.
February 20, 2018
What if I Could…
What if I could live a dream,
And not forget her eerie scream.
What if I could laugh with joy,
And not forget his wicked ploy.
What if I could be immersed in solitude,
And not forget the rattling feud.
What if I could play in the sunshine,
And not forget the dank confine.
What if I could grin at a butterfly,
And not forget to tell a lie.
What if I could laze around,
And not forget the breakdown.
What if I could love a person,
And not forget his obsession.
What if I could prove oneself,
And then, forget, to be myself.
February 1, 2018
I Can See…
I can see the world in constant strife,
I can see the pain of a lonely bride,
I can see the hate in a trusted friend,
I can see the fear in a growing trend.
I can hear the roaring cries for change,
I can hear the grumbling in exchange,
I can hear the whimpers of distress,
I can hear the confusion of progress.
I can smell the stench of darkened alleys,
I can smell the anguish of lost rallies,
I can smell the greed of a corrupted pen,
I can smell the need of homeless men.
I can taste the bitterness of failing dreams,
I can taste the guilt of betrayed teams.
I can taste the anger of suppressed desires,
I can taste the smoke of burning pyres.
I can touch the wound of a dying soldier,
I can touch the roof of a broken shelter,
I can touch the sea of hopeless faces,
I can touch the stink of rotting places.
Yet I feel…
Yet I feel a ray of sunshine,
Breaking through the cloudy shrine.
Yet I feel the whistling breeze,
Whispering sweet secrets of far-off seas.
Yet I feel the rippling laughter
Of country folks on their rafter.
Yet I feel the peaceful silence,
Of shared emotions and reliance.
Yet I feel the pleasure of a kind word,
Like the chirping of a bird.
Yet I feel the passion in a simple hug,
And the love behind a lifted mug.
Yet I feel a hope in innocent eyes,
Waiting for their turn to rise.
Yet I feel a pride in a nation,
That values humanity as its foundation.
Yes, I can see and hear, just like you,
But, I choose to feel and love, like I do.
31 / 01/2018
I can see the pain of a lonely bride,
I can see the hate in a trusted friend,
I can see the fear in a growing trend.
I can hear the roaring cries for change,
I can hear the grumbling in exchange,
I can hear the whimpers of distress,
I can hear the confusion of progress.
I can smell the stench of darkened alleys,
I can smell the anguish of lost rallies,
I can smell the greed of a corrupted pen,
I can smell the need of homeless men.
I can taste the bitterness of failing dreams,
I can taste the guilt of betrayed teams.
I can taste the anger of suppressed desires,
I can taste the smoke of burning pyres.
I can touch the wound of a dying soldier,
I can touch the roof of a broken shelter,
I can touch the sea of hopeless faces,
I can touch the stink of rotting places.
Yet I feel…
Yet I feel a ray of sunshine,
Breaking through the cloudy shrine.
Yet I feel the whistling breeze,
Whispering sweet secrets of far-off seas.
Yet I feel the rippling laughter
Of country folks on their rafter.
Yet I feel the peaceful silence,
Of shared emotions and reliance.
Yet I feel the pleasure of a kind word,
Like the chirping of a bird.
Yet I feel the passion in a simple hug,
And the love behind a lifted mug.
Yet I feel a hope in innocent eyes,
Waiting for their turn to rise.
Yet I feel a pride in a nation,
That values humanity as its foundation.
Yes, I can see and hear, just like you,
But, I choose to feel and love, like I do.
31 / 01/2018
May 13, 2016
A World Too Small
She screamed.
He held tighter.
Footsteps approached.
They swung into shadows.
Raavir was furious.
Raavir was after them.
He would break their marriage.
He would kill them first.
Minutes ticked into hours,
They huddled together.
Fear wracked their bodies.
The hearts remained firm.
She’d begged him for mercy.
She’d pleaded to his conscience.
Raavir, the doting brother, had refused,
To break the shackles of convention.
Darkness crept softly,
Unwilling to jolt them further,
The parking lot grew deserted,
Hope kindled again.
They’d eloped, flown free,
Of the wary, accusing eyes.
Until he found them,
Nesting in an unchained world.
Deep into the night came I,
In a shining black car,
To whisk them away
To give them some air.
Raavir wouldn’t accept
The escape that smacked of defeat,
The fall from the grace, nor
The whispered doubts of the clan.
They rested on my land,
A little farm, tucked away by the lake.
Men were cautioned time and again.
Men were sworn to secrecy.
He had destroyed their peace,
Poisoned their happiness,
But still Raavir could not rest
Until he made them pay.
He had left her in my care,
She trembled as she let him go,
To scour the place on his own,
To find other hiding holes.
The clan clamoured
In the name of blind obeisance,
Soon they found the scent.
The hunt was on.
He’d promised to return that night.
He’d promised a better future.
For he did not hear the terrible news,
That reached us in time.
Three bodies were left lying
On the seashore of my town.
Murders in Raavir style, his signature,
A warning or a prophecy?
Perhaps the day would come,
When the end is near.
For isn’t the world, too small,
For such a ruthless creature?
P.S.
I woke up in terror,
Fingers clutching my nightwear.
I knew I had seen friends’ faces,
He held tighter.
Footsteps approached.
They swung into shadows.
Raavir was furious.
Raavir was after them.
He would break their marriage.
He would kill them first.
Minutes ticked into hours,
They huddled together.
Fear wracked their bodies.
The hearts remained firm.
She’d begged him for mercy.
She’d pleaded to his conscience.
Raavir, the doting brother, had refused,
To break the shackles of convention.
Darkness crept softly,
Unwilling to jolt them further,
The parking lot grew deserted,
Hope kindled again.
They’d eloped, flown free,
Of the wary, accusing eyes.
Until he found them,
Nesting in an unchained world.
Deep into the night came I,
In a shining black car,
To whisk them away
To give them some air.
Raavir wouldn’t accept
The escape that smacked of defeat,
The fall from the grace, nor
The whispered doubts of the clan.
They rested on my land,
A little farm, tucked away by the lake.
Men were cautioned time and again.
Men were sworn to secrecy.
He had destroyed their peace,
Poisoned their happiness,
But still Raavir could not rest
Until he made them pay.
He had left her in my care,
She trembled as she let him go,
To scour the place on his own,
To find other hiding holes.
The clan clamoured
In the name of blind obeisance,
Soon they found the scent.
The hunt was on.
He’d promised to return that night.
He’d promised a better future.
For he did not hear the terrible news,
That reached us in time.
Three bodies were left lying
On the seashore of my town.
Murders in Raavir style, his signature,
A warning or a prophecy?
Perhaps the day would come,
When the end is near.
For isn’t the world, too small,
For such a ruthless creature?
P.S.
I woke up in terror,
Fingers clutching my nightwear.
I knew I had seen friends’ faces,
In the most terrifying nightmare.
December 12, 2015
A Strange Tale
I don’t know when,
I don’t know how,
It’s a strange tale,
A curious case.
The story of my life.
The story of my love.
I was a reticent child,
Obedient and quiet,
In kindergarten I played,
With snakes on my head,
An unforgettable memory,
Of innocence and naivety.
In school I read, and read galore,
Stories of strife and love reunited.
Inspired I wrote tirelessly,
From the heart, from the mind.
And suddenly was told,
“One day, you will be a writer.”
I laughed it off,
For then I thought,
No writers earn, but just grow old.
Yet deep in my heart,
It was a dream,
A dream too bold.
I studied longer,
I worked harder,
All the while nurturing my dream.
Youth receded,
Independence beckoned,
Living on my own term.
Travelling wide
Working under pressure,
I learnt from my mistakes,
Suppressing my pride.
Time and again, life’s challenges
Pushed to excel, to make my mark.
As the years rolled,
Everyone pressed,
To take the next step,
To find a home with someone else.
“You are getting old,” they said.
“You will be left a lonely waif.”
My mind reeled,
Thoughts scattered,
Confusion ruled,
My heart refused.
The world mocked,
Time clocked.
I don’t know when,
I don’t know how,
It’s a strange twist,
A hard blow,
To mistaken beliefs,
To the inner foe.
A friend called,
A discussion ensued,
An exchange of emails,
An understanding of the mundane.
Calls followed calls,
The connection grew.
It was a Sunday,
When the sun shone bright.
He came to town,
To give me a sight,
Of his real self,
And his bald might.
A short walk on the beach,
Stories unfold,
A sumptuous lunch,
And a merry tea with family.
In the melee, he held my gaze,
And the chains fell in place.
We met once, we met twice,
We met a third time,
And we skyped.
Chains of friendship,
Chains of love,
Built not in time, but on trust.
He held my hand and asked,
“Will you marry me?”
I said, “I need more time.”
It was a lie, it was a sham.
But I needed to think,
For one last time.
He was patient,
He was kind,
He asked again,
And I said, “Ok, let’s do it.”
His eyes widened, his mouth shut,
But his jubilant smile made it up.
Time to rejoice,
Time to dream,
Time was short, time was not.
For five months,
We laughed, we cried,
It was a roller-coaster ride.
Finally we got married,
One fine autumn evening,
A ceremony so pure,
Without grandeur.
In a place so dear,
Full of blessings and cheer.
The world shifted,
Its axis tilted.
Now a touch, a kind word,
A certain look in his eyes,
Were more precious
Than all the jewels in the world.
A business to expand,
A novel to publish,
New ventures to begin,
Another world to explore.
Life’s exciting, life’s good,
My humble heart’s full of gratitude.
I don’t know when,
I don’t know how,
Isn’t it a strange tale?
Of a beautiful sail,
Through myriad swells,
I don’t know how,
It’s a strange tale,
A curious case.
The story of my life.
The story of my love.
I was a reticent child,
Obedient and quiet,
In kindergarten I played,
With snakes on my head,
An unforgettable memory,
Of innocence and naivety.
In school I read, and read galore,
Stories of strife and love reunited.
Inspired I wrote tirelessly,
From the heart, from the mind.
And suddenly was told,
“One day, you will be a writer.”
I laughed it off,
For then I thought,
No writers earn, but just grow old.
Yet deep in my heart,
It was a dream,
A dream too bold.
I studied longer,
I worked harder,
All the while nurturing my dream.
Youth receded,
Independence beckoned,
Living on my own term.
Travelling wide
Working under pressure,
I learnt from my mistakes,
Suppressing my pride.
Time and again, life’s challenges
Pushed to excel, to make my mark.
As the years rolled,
Everyone pressed,
To take the next step,
To find a home with someone else.
“You are getting old,” they said.
“You will be left a lonely waif.”
My mind reeled,
Thoughts scattered,
Confusion ruled,
My heart refused.
The world mocked,
Time clocked.
I don’t know when,
I don’t know how,
It’s a strange twist,
A hard blow,
To mistaken beliefs,
To the inner foe.
A friend called,
A discussion ensued,
An exchange of emails,
An understanding of the mundane.
Calls followed calls,
The connection grew.
It was a Sunday,
When the sun shone bright.
He came to town,
To give me a sight,
Of his real self,
And his bald might.
A short walk on the beach,
Stories unfold,
A sumptuous lunch,
And a merry tea with family.
In the melee, he held my gaze,
And the chains fell in place.
We met once, we met twice,
We met a third time,
And we skyped.
Chains of friendship,
Chains of love,
Built not in time, but on trust.
He held my hand and asked,
“Will you marry me?”
I said, “I need more time.”
It was a lie, it was a sham.
But I needed to think,
For one last time.
He was patient,
He was kind,
He asked again,
And I said, “Ok, let’s do it.”
His eyes widened, his mouth shut,
But his jubilant smile made it up.
Time to rejoice,
Time to dream,
Time was short, time was not.
For five months,
We laughed, we cried,
It was a roller-coaster ride.
Finally we got married,
One fine autumn evening,
A ceremony so pure,
Without grandeur.
In a place so dear,
Full of blessings and cheer.
The world shifted,
Its axis tilted.
Now a touch, a kind word,
A certain look in his eyes,
Were more precious
Than all the jewels in the world.
A business to expand,
A novel to publish,
New ventures to begin,
Another world to explore.
Life’s exciting, life’s good,
My humble heart’s full of gratitude.
I don’t know when,
I don’t know how,
Isn’t it a strange tale?
Of a beautiful sail,
Through myriad swells,
To wedding bells.
December 2, 2015
Wednesday Morning
The day crawls,
The afternoon stalls,
The silence haunts,
The stillness warns.
A distant rumbling,
A flash of lighting,
Storm clouds roll,
Darkness descends.
My heart leaps,
A sigh escapes,
The tingling begins,
A smile threatens.
Thundering roars,
Bursts of light,
Doors crash,
Windows rattle.
Trees sway,
Winds growl,
A loud clap,
Blessings pour.
My nose savours,
The earthly whiff,
Warmth seeps in,
Sheets of water,
Pelting the roofs,
Scurrying feet,
Huddling bodies.
Fuzzy panes,
Glistening chains,
Temptation beckons,
Impatience grows.
Skipping down the stairs,
Hurrying out,
A moment’s hesitation,
Then time’s out.
Arms outstretched,
Face upturned,
Twirling gaily,
Laughter bubbling.
Uncaring of the cold,
Undeterred by cries,
My mind’s unleashed,
My heart’s content.
Loneliness recedes,
Hope renews,
Fears flee,
Joy resides.
Life seems perfect.
My journey continues…
The afternoon stalls,
The silence haunts,
The stillness warns.
A distant rumbling,
A flash of lighting,
Storm clouds roll,
Darkness descends.
My heart leaps,
A sigh escapes,
The tingling begins,
A smile threatens.
Thundering roars,
Bursts of light,
Doors crash,
Windows rattle.
Trees sway,
Winds growl,
A loud clap,
Blessings pour.
My nose savours,
The earthly whiff,
Warmth seeps in,
The coffee brews.
Sheets of water,
Pelting the roofs,
Scurrying feet,
Huddling bodies.
Fuzzy panes,
Glistening chains,
Temptation beckons,
Impatience grows.
Skipping down the stairs,
Hurrying out,
A moment’s hesitation,
Then time’s out.
Arms outstretched,
Face upturned,
Twirling gaily,
Laughter bubbling.
Uncaring of the cold,
Undeterred by cries,
My mind’s unleashed,
My heart’s content.
Loneliness recedes,
Hope renews,
Fears flee,
Joy resides.
Life seems perfect.
My journey continues…
Self – Help
What is ‘self-help’? If we are looking for the simplest meaning then it is ‘to help oneself without depending on the aid of others’. The phrase seems very mundane and unimportant, but on the contrary it is a significant outlook on life in the modern world.
‘Self-help’ has many aspects to it. There are ‘self-help’ books on various fields in education and also psychological aid. These prompt us to work on our own. Under the wing of ‘self-help’ our self-confidence grows and matures. It teaches us to be independent and fend for ourselves, and essentially, to be responsible for our own progress. The inner ‘self-help’ to my mind is more important. It gives us the power to control our emotions and slowly achieve total control of our mind and being. This method of ‘self-help’ is something like the free-progress system in our school; the spirit is the same: to have the scope of maximum progress at our own speed towards our selected goals.
But if we carry this idea of ‘self-help’ too far I think the world would become a colder home. It is already growing lonelier, for everyone is busy running their own life, trying to catch their ever-receding aims and not achieving much. Yet they are always in a hurry, intent on the success of their lives, oblivious of the others. Gone are the days when the parents taught their children all the work and sat back proudly watching their success. Now the moment the hatchlings are big enough to fly, they are left on their own. The warmth of exchanging knowledge has nearly disappeared for no one has a minute to spare. Behind the idea of ‘self-help‘, the growing independence and neglect of other’s advice, is changing life itself.
With all its indispensable qualities ‘self-help’ is very necessary in today’s world. But don’t you think … a few moments by the evening fire, as the dark shadows creep in the corners of the room, an old grandma rocking in her favourite chair, her wrinkled face shining with nostalgia, recounting her long life’s various experiences, is … beautiful, and equally essential?
‘Self-help’ has many aspects to it. There are ‘self-help’ books on various fields in education and also psychological aid. These prompt us to work on our own. Under the wing of ‘self-help’ our self-confidence grows and matures. It teaches us to be independent and fend for ourselves, and essentially, to be responsible for our own progress. The inner ‘self-help’ to my mind is more important. It gives us the power to control our emotions and slowly achieve total control of our mind and being. This method of ‘self-help’ is something like the free-progress system in our school; the spirit is the same: to have the scope of maximum progress at our own speed towards our selected goals.
But if we carry this idea of ‘self-help’ too far I think the world would become a colder home. It is already growing lonelier, for everyone is busy running their own life, trying to catch their ever-receding aims and not achieving much. Yet they are always in a hurry, intent on the success of their lives, oblivious of the others. Gone are the days when the parents taught their children all the work and sat back proudly watching their success. Now the moment the hatchlings are big enough to fly, they are left on their own. The warmth of exchanging knowledge has nearly disappeared for no one has a minute to spare. Behind the idea of ‘self-help‘, the growing independence and neglect of other’s advice, is changing life itself.
With all its indispensable qualities ‘self-help’ is very necessary in today’s world. But don’t you think … a few moments by the evening fire, as the dark shadows creep in the corners of the room, an old grandma rocking in her favourite chair, her wrinkled face shining with nostalgia, recounting her long life’s various experiences, is … beautiful, and equally essential?
May 8, 2012
The Mughal Raj!
My first trip to Delhi and I was extremely excited. It may seem a little strange to all of you out there that living in India I had not yet seen Delhi, yet had travelled abroad. Well, such was the case. Hence my excitement! And to add the cherry on the icing, it was to be a family trip, after four long years. My sister had planned every tour to the minute, refusing to let us change or remove any item from the list of places to visit. Sighing, I realized that the next three days would be extremely hectic, in spite of the blistering heat.
The flight was uneventful. We landed safe and sound and got into a taxi that drove us to our hotel in Karol Bagh. At first, as we approached the district, I was a little taken aback. The car slowly edged into the narrow streets flanked by numerous lodges, boarding house and hotels. Some of the buildings seemed downright dingy and sinister. Afraid that we had made a mistake in our online booking of the hotel, I sat up and paid attention to the route taken by the driver. Luckily our hotel was on a quiet street in a residential area. After checking in and freshening up in our rooms, we left for the tours of the day.
The next couple of days were chaotic as we tried to balance non-stop sightseeing with some spontaneous shopping. A step into the yesteryears, we got a brief glimpse of the classic and the golden period of the Mughal empire. Let me share with you some of my favourite sights…
Our first stop, the national monument: India Gate… Seemingly very plain and Spartan, it still commemorates the 90,000 soldiers of the Indian Army who lost their lives fighting for the British Raj during the World War I.
The handsome guards at India Gate… Don’t they get bored watching us?
Dignity… Respect… Peace…
Home of the President: Rashtrapati Bhavan… The guard there gave us a short 5 minutes course in History. It was very enlightening to see his ready knowledge.
The wide roads of Delhi… The sense of space and majesty is rare anywhere else in India…
The famous Red fort… It was the first time that I have seen beauty and ruggedness combined to perfection…
The stage for the light and sound show… Unfortunately, though the setting was picturesque, the show was boring beyond imagination…
Purana Killa… It really looked very old and was in places quite decrepit… Yet the old world charm was ever present…
A panoramic view to give you a sense of suppressed splendour…
The bird’s eye view… the tower of hope intertwined with despair…
The magnificent gate from which Emperor Humayun triumphantly rode out or galloped in…
Humayun’s Tomb: Beauty in intricacy…
Lovely miniature… A showcased sample of the excellence of the architects of those yesteryears…
A leisurely stroll in the gardens… A laid-back afternoon under the trees… Time to contemplate in peace… Miss one’s lover… The tranquil gardens around Humayun’s Tomb seemed to bring peace to our restless souls…
At first glance I thought, what a waste of space! How many homes can be built here. And then I realized that in the late 1500s AD, the concept of flats was non-existent and unimaginable. There was no dearth of space and this large courtyard was just the norm…
At last a decade’s dream came true… It took me a couple of seconds… I froze… Then finally it dawned on me that I was actually seeing the Taj Mahal, one of the Seven Wonders of the World. Although people have said that the reality does not live up to the hype, I felt the goose bumps of my arm. It was truly a magnificent work of art…
Optical illusion on one of the pillars… In those days, it must have been an exceptional feat…
The last look over our shoulders… A reluctant good-bye…
The Agra Fort… Grandiose… Majestic and extremely awe-inspiring…
As I stood right there, looking out, I felt as if an age-old mantel fell over my shoulders… I imagined… An empress surveying her lands, day after day, as she was aided by her ladies-in-waiting to dress for the day’s events…
A favourite corner of the princesses and their entourage, as they giggled and long for their star-crossed lovers….
The view that Shah Jahan had of the Taj Mahal, when he was imprisoned in the fort… Even now, I can almost feel his sense of helplessness and profound sadness…
Fateh-Pur-Sikri… The famous abode of Emperor Akbar and his first wife, who was Hindu, Jodha Bai. Of all the forts and fortresses, I like this one the most…
The human chess board… Emperor Akbar played the game with his servants as pawns…
A five storey construction… a marvel in those days… From the top, Emperor Akbar had a perfect watch over the towns below…
A beautiful courtyard… A tiny pond.. In the center Tansen used to practice his music… And often Emperor Akbar sat right on top (right corner in pic 2) listening keenly…
The royal basin for hand-wash before the royal feast… Wasn’t it a trifle small?
