For A Prince – In A Far Away Land

Have you forgotten me
in the thickness of the thicket of life?

Thou didst create night but I made the lamp. Thou didst create clay but I made the cup. Thou didst create deserts, mountains, and forests. I produced the orchards, gardens, and groves. It is I who made the glass out of stone. And it is I who will turn poison into an antidote”: “The verses of Iqbal”

Flounced in an azure dress, she wraps a veil of sagacity, albeit short-lived protectively over herself, as if it will somehow bar her from the pending onslaught. There’s time today not to hurry and take a moment to dream of a dream that came true. There’s time today to dream of a dream that has yet to come

Hold on heart, hold those throbbing heartbeats. Be still for a moment Heart! You take her on this jet set of longing. Remembrance erupts, spurts, somewhere from the sooty depths of her tired old soul and stings her conscience. This blistering yearning comes. At a funeral pace almost. Like a full moon descending languidly on a dark lake and brightening it with its lustrous brilliance.

Sudden, this reminiscence – It comes to her like paint trickling weakly down, down, down.. some unknown artist’s canvas. A fanfare of colors, whorls, and swirls of them. Colors she doesn’t even recognize. Colors that might soon turn into a tableau. It fills her — like inhaling smoke, low in the lungs and oh my Lord, another one for the naris.
These ruminations. They will pierce her soul without arrows

Takes her breath away and she calls for him. Softly. As if he is in this very place right now. With her. In the air feeding these flames. Enticing him to cross River Jordan and come to where she waits anticipating…waiting.

Then she recalls…

When it was Spring in the sunny grove. And aureate blooms were sprawlingly set on Sisters Olive of Noah. When they were in the Cedars of God, he gave her a Camellia. “My Love,” he said, and kissed her lips. One delicate tender maiden kiss. “There are no softer buds Eastward in Eden than your rosy lips, so sublimely exquisite you are to me!”

When Summer fostered her imperious head and the weasel turned dark-brown, they rested beneath the crimson evening stars. she placed a rose upon her breast, picked from the rarest bud. “My Love,” he said, and kissed her lips. “I will remember this bliss”. “Not Elysium, Not Life to come, Life everlasting, the Known, the Great Unknown, Eternity, the Promised Land, Pearly Gates of Paradise, Colors, Felicity, Peace, Harmony, Eternal Rest, Nirvana, Immortality, I see nothing but this rose on your breast!”

When Autumn raised his pastel, green, pink. purple, yellow, orange. brown. red, blue, amethyst, burnt sienna, lilac, lemon chiffon grisaille in clusters to his whiskered face, he laid an Ambrosia on her eyelids and she closed her eyes “My Love,” he said and smiled through the dusk upon the grassland. “No Ambrosia gleams beneath these skies but this one on your eyelids!”

When Winter arrived with the force of Anemoi and painted their lay snow-white like the purest celestial being. And the weasel’s ermine turned alabaster. He laid a Witch Hazel on her. “My Love,” he whispered, and kissed her lips “Come, let me take you to Jannat this night’

Have you forgotten me
In the thickness of the thicket of life?

When I am with me, I am with you

What feeling is this? I asked Noone The bumblebee, imprudent wanderer Replied: “It’s freedom” Where are you making haste to? “To the Goldenrod. She awaits. When no one is looking, I kiss her and I taste Nectar

What fragrance is this? I asked Noone. Clouds, alluring marshmallows calmly passing by above replied: “It’s joy” Where are you making haste to? “To the charcoal colored one. She’ll soon be mine. When no one is looking, I embrace her and I smell rain showers

Soul! Why do you muse so? I speak to you. You see I like this darkness you hide. I like this duskiness in you.

We see each other clearly like this It is here that you are the sculptor and you mold me into who you desire me to be. It is here that you are fire and you melt the clay in my kiln. With a glance. It is here that I am a waterwheel and you are the millstone

It is here that we spill into each other. Blend like a chocolate hazelnut banana smoothie. It is here that I pour vintage wine in a chalice and inebriate you. Slowly. Deliberately. It is here that this passion shears the bough of sinfulness. It is here that I bring solace to your tired eyes. It is here rapt in strange dreams I burn you with each enchanted vision while solemn echoes of us in our mystic grove under the starlight stir my heart with melody

I muse for at this very moment I have no doubt
There is not a cloud in this blue sky today
I muse. For I know.
Anything that touches you, touches me

Have you forgotten me
In the thickness of the thicket of life?

This tune makes me think of a vision in Fort Adelaide. For you, my loved one.


Karuna Pataudi
Karuna Pataudi
Karuna is a Human Resource Business Partner with over 15 years of progressive experience in human resource management as well as manufacturing and operations management. Her professional experiences include executive level management, strategic program management, training/employee development, resource forecasting, organizational development, employee relations, change management, talent management, succession planning, competency development and recruitment. She is constantly seeking to create a customer-centric human resources function and to make the employee experience exceptional. In every HR role over the years, Karuna provided strategic business partnering to the senior leadership team to earn her place at the corporate table. Karuna plans to further her education with a doctoral degree with a bid to specialize in Diversity and Inclusion programs within the next few years. A plan that will hopefully come to fruition with her perseverance and known character to achieve and deliver only what is best. In addition to being passionate about her role in Human Resources, Karuna is an avid reader of poetry and spends several hours weekly volunteering at several senior citizens homes in New Jersey reading to residents. ‘So many books to read. So much to learn. So much to experience. So much to share”.

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  1. The canvas of words crafted by the perfection of an enchanted poetess fiddling with the hues of mythical, magical, passionate, as well as intoxicating travel back in time, all at the same time! Reading your superb invocation to the “prince in a far away land” carried me back to my college days when I used to enjoy Mirza Ghalib, Iqbal, Rumi, and Omar Khayyam, with as much fervor as John Keats, Percy B. Shelley, John Milton et al, that were a part of my syllabus.

    Thanks a lot, Karuna Ji, for bringing me back to the realization of my own poetic bent of mind where I used to scribble some shairee!

    Thank You, and please keep up the good work!
    Looking forward to see more of the same…

  2. Eh bien je pense que c’est une belle métaphore sur l’amour qui se cultive au fil du temps .
    À travers ces 4 saisons qui symbolisent la vie et la durée de celui ci .
    Le couple qui évolue ensemble à travers ce temps qui passe .
    Puis il y à ce couple qui s’est formé de 2 entités complètement différentes avec leur propre ressenti, valeurs et perceptions de leur univers.
    C’est le romantisme dans cette explosion de couleurs de sens et de fragrance voluptueuse.
    Le tout enveloppé de cette valeur divine spirituelle empli d’amour et de douceur.
    Tout le texte est lumineux.Il exprime à travers ces multiples métaphores liés à la faune , la flore, la douceur et la féminité l’amour du beau .
    Dieu aime la beauté , Dieu est beauté.
    Au delà de tout cela on est ramené à notre propre fragilité.
    Et pourquoi ” far away Land?”