The Soul of the Amer

As I sit quietly in the hotel room,
Looking out at the wall of the Amer
Stretching across the horizon,
I remember those evening bonfires
With risqué songs echoing
To foot tapping music of the dhaplis.

Songs that spoke of love,
And of the simple, harsh desert life.

Cupped in the mellow flow of the evening
And the nostalgia,
The wall, the grains of sand outside
And the scattered bushes,
Black in the night
Seemed to rise in the air and speak.
Their hushed voices recounted
The eternal vigil
Of cold, dark desert nights
From the ramparts of the Amer
Watching….
Always watching.
Forever looking out for enemies
Who came to rape, plunder, lay waste,
Not only the streets and people of Amer
But the very barrenness of the desert.

They
Spoke of the horror
Of those wanting to preserve,
Fall under killing swords;
Their rivers of blood draining away
In the desert sands
And the warble -
The mourning wail of the Rudaalis
Which reverberated in the desert air
Forever.

************************

Under their watch many had grown
Nurturing the land,
Their own, and themselves.
Carrying forward honor
And the legends of bravery
For coming generations.
With voices steeped in deep sadness,
They remembered
How these loving ones too had passed.

“Only we remained.
Grains of sand, nestling safely,
Under protective rocks.
And now, as the rocks
Wither away in the wind,
We too will pass.
For nothing is eternal.”

And the river of time will flow on…

Till one day,
The bushes will awaken,
Shrug off the sand.
And emerge slowly, tentatively, to peep out.
And as they reach up
The rhythmic beat of the dhaplis
And the singing of the desert winds
Will come alive once again.

For the magic of the desert never really dies.