Rocks Knew it!

As the evening sun slowly touches the forgotten epitaphs of Chittore I saw Sukhlal coming down the road to the fort. I saw in his face the movements of some worries, with his hands in his pocket, he is walking involved in his own thoughts. To a visitor like me it seems quite strange as Sukhlal, the guide who through his words creates magic and helps everyone to re-visit the gone days and the immortal time which in shades still revolves in every rock, every lanes of Chittore. But now back to reality, the day’s work is over. And he is going back to home..his normal life crisscrossed with daily trends of happiness and struggles. He is not in a holiday and he meets hundreds of people everyday. Does he remember me? He does. As Sukhlal up in the road now near the RTDC Cafeteria saw me and smiled.
‘Hi, still roaming?’ he asked.
‘Yes, just walking alone, needs time to feel Chittore.’
‘Nice! He said. ‘Then walk slowly up the hills all alone!’
‘Is there any place for night halt? Can I manage a room somewhere?’ I asked.
‘I would arrange. If you say..but I doubt if you will get all the comforts there.’
‘I don’t need. Just arrange a room.’
Sukhlal did. In one of his cousin’s house who had went to Jaipur for a day for any business. All the necessary comforts were also there including a Rajput lady cooked typical Rajasthani Chapati, dal, bati, churma with Alu gobi.To have it with the chilled wind circulating outside and the lighted fire outside the door of the room giving me warmth was splendid.
Around eleven, I walked out of the house.
I once stopped and recollected the map of Chittore which Sukhlal beautifully explained as being in a shape of fish. Indeed it is.
I slowly passed the ruins of some houses, up the city and started walking towards the Vijaystambha(The Victory tower). The sky is clear, moon adoring in pride. The soft bluish light bisecting the rocky parts of the city. The wind in a mood of breeze carries the threat and gifts of December cold.
I don’t know how long I walked..I don’t know where I went but I felt as if someone taking me for a tour all over Chittore. Sukhlal did that in the afternoon. Now someone else. Maybe time. Maybe the lost monuments. Maybe the each single grains of history. Maybe the mood of the very place which often changed tunes from being of glamour, jovial, dismay, sorrow and melancholy. As I passed the monuments, The Mira Bai temple, the Padmini Palace, The Palace of Rana Kumbha and Rana Sanga..I found the places still continue to play their part..still within the shades of darkness the lost days are back again..as if each night something occurs..as if Chittore still through its broken fragments of historical magnificience continues to dazzle the visitors..as if in day time it goes back to the present world when it is a monument to be shown by Guide to tourists..in the night Chittore again originates its real saga..legends in full flow..history which occurred here in different folds in different periods continue to carry along with no one to see but only for the very sake of Chittore itself..the unvanquished..May be I feel I am the sole representative of the modern world who some how through some magic is walking down the lanes….May be somewhere in the night in any part of Chittore Bappa Rawal..the founder of the dynasty still express his genius..somewhere again the march of Sultan Alauddin..the maniac Delhi Sultanate emperor can be heard..somewhere through the candle light and fire Queen Padmini travels in her own palace..somewhere in a tranquil mood when she along with thousands of ladies commits Jahaurbrata..somewhere again Hambhir the Great reconquers Chittore and hosted there the flag of the Surya dynasty..somewhere again the life of ceased Chittore went on in silence..till the Days of Akbar..somewhere those negligible masses of people, those who never got any name, fame and laid their lives, those who each day sacrificed, the Ranas who worshipped in the holy temple of the Sun and the Chittoreshwari Goddesses..the cries which got stabbed in some part of the vast land for ages..the smiles which flashed in pride..the emotions which got never expressed..the words which were never told..
I walked on.
I walked on in a journey down history..a journey when the gone days , the lost time came and once again continued its saga in this so called civilized world and present day of the 21st C.
History never gets old.
And if you get a chance to go to a journey like this when a silent movie of time in a projector of rocks and sky and wildness gets screened, no one should question.
I also never questioned.
Before I close the door I saw Chittore up the hills.
In moonlight Chittore is looking beautiful.
As if in all it’s wildness Chittoregarh is still nothing but fantasy..a place where reasoning stops..a place where a lawaris(orphaned) boy is respected for a Jaitilak..a place where still a word is a word.. a place where misery each day is overcome by smiles..a place where heritage and history is the motto of life..
Sukhlal is right.
He like every resident of Chittore would love to come back here.
As may be this is where heaven is.
I nodded. And then I closed my eyes.
Me too, would always like to come back here..
Again and again..
As this is a place where 21st C is just a mere Calender word and where..
History still lives on..
How?
Rocks knew it!