Ayodhya, the Capital City
Was famous for its gaiety,
With its entrance gates
Shining like ornaments.
A moat, too deep and wide,
High walls built all around,
An army of security guards,
All guarded it from invaders.
It was a City of tall mansions,
With fairly big court yards,
Well designed dining halls,
And decorated dancing halls.
Men and women rubbed
Each other in the crowd,
As they walked closely
Wearing pearl-jewels costly.
Many cut-pearls fell down,
And made the streets shine.
To pick, they didn’t search
For they were all so rich.
Their wet hairs after bath
Women dried them with
Incense smoke that went
High up to the sky height.
The smoke that spread
To the sky resembled
The very height of fame
Of Harichandran’s name
The market place was busy
And were seen too noisy
Like horses and elephants
Marching in battle fields.
The sounds of Veda recital,
Reverberated the Capital,
Besides the noise of students
Studying aloud in class rooms.
The atmosphere was filled,
With music that thrilled,
Besides the sound of anklets
From the foot of dancers.
Melodius songs from parrots
Humming noises of birds,
Recital of Vedas all round,
Made it a City of sound.
Maids sang a folk song
In praise of their king,
While they pounded grains,
To remove the husks.
In every family house,
Happy was the spouse,
With his own companion,
Aroused by high passion.
With all the warmth,
Goddess of wealth,
Had her royal welcome
In every sweet home.
Goddess of poverty
Barred from front entry,
Silently sneaked out,
By the back gate.
By night, sexy women,
Sold their bodies to men.
By day, they took part
In learning every fine art.
Chaste women objected
When their partners stared
At those sexy portraits
Displayed in public spots.
The flags of the city
Welcomed everybody
To visit several places
Of wealth and riches.
All the chariots stood in lines,
Like a chain of mountains,
Those came to Harichandran,
From the hands of Indran.
Centers for doing sacrifices,
Fine arts and sciences,
Women parlours and Kitchens,
Functioned in different streets.
In the mind of men, charity,
In their shoulders, bravery,
In women’s eyes, attraction,
They were special to mention.
Food, with no scarcity,
Was available in plenty,
That made them to worry,
“Why there was no beggary? ”
Only men with passion,
Went of after sexy women,
But for this, no poverty,
Or hunger, existed in the city.
Except for the sound,
Maids’ anklets made,
No cries for help,
On the air, went up.
Except for the lotus,
Imprisoned in waters,
No prison was there,
No crime anywhere.
In the minds of people,
They felt no shortfall,
Though the waning moon
Went short in its shine.
The deer and tiger
Drank the river water
Standing side by side
Like true friends did.
The vulture and parrot,
Both lived in one nest,
All the day and night
With no fear or fright.
The King Harichandran,
Sat on a golden throne,
Inside his grand palace,
Built in a central place.
Tax paying kings to the right,
And famous poets to the left,
Sat in their respective seats
In the majesty’s court.
All his wise ministers
Took their grand seats,
With their reports ready,
On all events in the city.
There stood on both sides
Two pretty young maids
Fanning the king slowly,
Using their hands carefully.
Famous veena players played,
Beautiful damsels danced,
Just in front of the King
While they were all enjoying.
Shiva was ever in his mind.
For this reason, he was so kind
To whomsoever came to him,
Chanting Lord Shiva’s name.
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