The Lovers of Hauz Khas

Friday, April 15th, 2016
Madrasa-e-Firoz Shahi, Deer Park
Hauz Khas, New Delhi, Delhi State, India
c/o The Road to India, Chapter 2: Descending Blues


The Lovers of Hauz Khas

It’s a lost cause baby,
It’s a lost cause baby,
It’s a lost cause baby,
You and me.
Fermented in stone, temporary as trend,
We etched our names as if we had a clue.
Lovers gone rogue, lovers looking free.
Hide and go seek in alleys of our past –
I step forward, you leap back.
What’s a girl to do. Oooo.

– to be continued, by someone more musically inclined than I –


Hauz Khas; The Ruins.

Pigeons and satsong,
Strong and dissonant.

Mosaics, precious stones callously thrown into a grinder,
Then placed with intricate stories that speaks of history.

Trees that remind me of the Rocky Mountain foothills, home.
But their leaves are dripped in jewels unknown to me.
Fluttering tropical wings that take me into the depths of the jungle.
Lingering from their elegant ears are darkened long earrings that stir feelings of sorrow and death. “All is temporary. Autumn leaves remind us this each year.” 

All leaves a stinging sensation in my nasal cavity, where tears once roamed.
All reminds me, how ever nostalgic these trees seem to me,
This is not my home.

My attention is awakened by young love –
The Lover’s of Hauz Khas, you inspire me.

“You will find many young couples hiding amongst the hidden hallways and coves of the ruins, simply so they can sit with their love, without fear of family finding out their hearts intentions,” my memory recalls of C. describing the ambience of this gem. 


I see different stages of love’s seasons, but the way he looks at her never dulls.

Some lovers seek hidden moments alone,
Then there are those who desire to capture their love for all to see.

Here in Hauz Khas, the photographer is the director. The Leader.
He is in charge of the tales that will spark resolution in memories to come.
A story teller,
A manipulator of truth.

I’m not sure what type of feelings are stirred when I watch these scenes of Hauz Khas in solitude?
In awe of how celebrated love is? Cherishing it’s rarity for the gift it is.
Sadness? Because once I leave these ruins, I must sit in my own ruins?

Nay –

I feel blistering excitement for “he”, he whom I have not met yet in this lifetime – He is coming and will find me when our paths are ready. I believe it, I truly do. Although heritage will take us back home to Western sunrises, he will know to bring me back to Hauz Khas.

So I look at each passing couple with a new and deeper appreciation.


Just as one should be when looking at lovers with love’s understanding eyes.

I will understand one day and it will be perfect.

But until then,
I have many depths to explore.

I am not ready now.
But my god, when I am,
It will leave me breathless,
Like the ruins of Hauz Khas.




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