The Court of the Kings

"He really had been through death, but he had returned because he could not bear the solitude."

Come back Marquez.

The Court of the Kings

The court of the kings is now OPEN.

Amidst the light and shade,

Amidst the heat and cold,

Scrunching drying leaves underfoot,

I make my way to the court of the kings.

Momo, the wise one and I walk steadily on.

The trees couldn’t care less, standing tall—

Frontiers to the doors of the court of the kings.

Momo, stops, smells, forages.

She has a keener sense of this land, this world.

Where time freezes. Where you are not atop the food chain.

Where leopards make you look down or else be eaten.

Where a pack of wild boars is ferocity sublime.

Harsher, more brutal than political thugs in this jungle of lights.

I tread the stone path, the goat trails.

Hoping for an audience at the court of the kings.

The watering hole is nearby. Still, murky waters—

Witness to hundreds of communal gatherings.

And here, I am the outcast.

The human is frail, the human THINKS.

And will alone demand an audience at the court of the kings.

The climb is steep and the clouds, oh the clouds!

They remind me of you—

Whimsical, dreamy and dark

Whimsical, dreamy and dark.

But never without a silver lining.

No wonder then, that I cherish you.

And yet, when I hold you, touch you—

I feel nothing. A white incompleteness.

That mocks my smile. I nod to myself.

This is what the court of the kings must unveil to me.

The path now begins to widen and I pick up my pace.

I slacken when a glimpse of the king

Numbs me to slow down; a lump develops in my throat.

Just at the foot of her towering 27,000 feet height

You leave a little piece of you.

A cloud shadowing that village of stories.

Is it Macondo that I see? I awaken from this memory.

The court of the kings stands before me.

Snowpeaked, towering, silent. And still.

They are STILL.

Its springtime now and the frenzy

Of birds, bugs, pollen, flowers and trees

Murmurs around me. Like a house of wedding preparations.

The court of the kings I visit again.

It’s been a year now

Since we sat here, in wild boar trails.

You and I too conspicuous, too cautious

To stand at their doorway.

We spent an afternoon of sunshine

Making memories keep fears away.

Who knew that these memories would turn to fears

When you’re gone so far away.

I’m here now with a fur ball, that wags and licks.

And the queen of that court—Nanda Devi

Shows me—YOU. You, drenched in pure snow.

I can see now that I did not need an audience

At the court of the kings.

They decided to show me merely, the distance

The distance of life I have to conquer—

Of villages, soft brown hills, forests and a barren loneliness—

All, to reach you.

No matter then, that memories fade away.

After all, distances only become shorter,

Don’t they?