The Begum: Our Lady of Graces

A gold shell portrayal of 1830,
Clasps firmly on all motile days,
The oozing watercolours of time,
And History.

In it: A look behind the curtain,
Clarifies to the vision,
An era of feisty patriarchy,
And tempestuous wars.

In it: An intimately drawn huqqa-snake,
Articulates smoke-filled brothels,
Farzana echoes – the name,
And Purdah, Sati – facades.

In it: A muffled Kashmiri shawl,
Takes the chill off,
The European – Reinhardt,
And mercenaire en Inde, Le Sombre.

In it: The Begum – Our Lady of Graces,
Converts and conflates religions,
Islam, Christianity – all Humanity,
And once Joanna – from Arc.

In the theatre of mid-18th-century,
Reigned a Queen,
Calling on three thousand troops,
And speaking peerless diplomacy.

In a court, a deluge of beats,
Stood and sat,
Zeb-un-Nissa among men,
And enthralled East and West.

In a naam borrowed,
Samru, an apropos virtue,
Euthanized colleen’s self-sacrifice,
And held out a leader.

In a progressive style,
Counselled monarchs Mogul, Fondness fused                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                desirability of lovers, And an unfastened                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       disposition.

In a Basilica of Graces,
Passed on fortune,
To Company and natives,
And remains as 18 foot tall,
Aujourd’hui.