When you have traveled all the way over
A thought on a flutter of an eye
When you have traveled the sway of Wheatfield of my village in
A solitude of belief
When you have traveled all the winding lanes of a voice
In a rainstorm that stopped abruptly
In a twilight junction
It is only then you take the slow train to Gwalior
To a nucleus of a sandstorm
Inching forward on its worn tracks of nights and days in
Seasons of spell
To a horizon of longings
Rattling on memories on an armor of lost chivalry
To a laughter abreast on
Each passing dunes of your landscape
To you
Once again and the loft of our kothi
Where we shared our secrets with your pigeons
And the brittle shadows of
Another moment.
When you have crossed the long night fortress
Of a forlorn desire
When you have reached the stolen palace
Of a long forgotten dream
When you have touched the time on a face
That just stood for
You so long
Gwalior looms again into sight.

 – Dr. Amitabh Mitra
May 11, 2003