I have seen a shed load of lion-hearted, audacious crowned heads honoring my throne and designing the intention of how they want to flourish. I have seen the crowd lusting over my sensational panorama and heartily admiring the astounding architecture; I lap. It at times beguiles me how skillfully these massive stones are carefully cut into intricately detailed temples that hold sensuous beauty and hope. I am proud of the intriguing sanctums I hold in my colossal embrace, worshiping the incredible sympathy of the supreme god. My dear heart swells with infinite pride as I realize what an independent kingdom I am. I am charmed to be able to aid from and equally add to the everlasting glory of the legendary eastern coast. Between the sinuous trail of the hypnotizing Mahanadi and the enamoring Godavari is where I joyfully thrived. It baffles me how uncertain my existence is and how vigorously my boundaries waver, naturally depending on whom I am ruled by. I have been fortunate enough to be lauded with the true-blue tribe’s unconditional loyalty and unfortunate enough to behold families rising together and then eventually diminishing into ashes and blending deep into my soul. I have bowed down and enthusiastically celebrated the literary connoisseurs who marked my brown skin with their phenomenal inscriptions. I have often found myself beaming with triumph over my humble roots, snaking their way into southern Asia, giving birth to the classic era of impeccable trade. I have seen many kings chopping each other’s heads off to get a possible hold over my mighty throne. I have liked very few and feared the most. I have seen the broad-shouldered musky Mauryans digging bows down my existing scars, piercing canes and javelins across the red sky, making me tremble at the terrorizing sight. I have seen elephantine chariots crushing the lives of the innocent two-year-olds and the heart-wrenching sound of devastated mothers bawling on the top of their lungs, making me shiver at the thought of a dooming end. I have been the infamous battleground of the sadistic and barbarous war; I have witnessed, abandoned corpses bathed in sinless blood replacing the peaceful river. I have seen golden phantasm turning into an abandoned carcass. I have seen the sun rise again after what felt like death, and have been the lone bystander of the devitalized king, lamenting and turning away from the untouched victory. I have been blessed again to see a new civilization that gushes and giggles, survives and celebrates, brawls and prays again and again over my patient perseverance. My spirit lingers among the lives of the people that inhabit me, and shall salvage them time after time, if needed to be.

What is history if it doesn’t monopolize your soul and ask you to behold the written ghost of long-lost time and dive into the symphony of fables?

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