The Red Manor

Courtesy my phone camera.
Itachuna Rajbari © Taruchaya

There’s something about dilapidated buildings,
the forgotten inhabitants and era.
The cracks spreading its roots like branches.
Tales of lost time, traditions and terra.
What grandeur it must have possessed?
Who lived within those red brick walls?
Just huge portraits are all that’s left.
No defense works when tragedy befalls.
Those who trudged on the long corridors,
carrying the burden of power or sin.
The women of the Manor veiled from the world,
peeping through the blinds- hiding their chagrin.

The Red Manor stands tall- its expanse mum.
Haunted by forgotten tales and tourist humdrum.
Quietly witnessing the passage of time.
Bearing the remnants of a beauty sublime.

© Taruchaya

Published by Taruchaya

I'm the vast azure sky...I always look up very high. I'm the indefatigable mark is present everywhere. I'm the water of ocean and just can't live without me. I'm the unrestrained fire. I'm a secret desire. I'm the ineffable earth. I'm ineluctable since birth !!

6 thoughts on “The Red Manor

  1. Excellent narration of historical past. Love this poem very much. Please continue writing such splendid description of bygone days with historical touch.
    Kunal Kumar Das


  2. Historical arration is mirror-like-smooth and crispy, which makes one feel like he was one of the witnesses of those times.


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