Takht-i-Bahi - (The Water Throne)

This is dedicated to our friend Aadil and his city, Mardan. His friends and to all those departed souls ….


Exists in our minds, this place and its past
Well trodden paths, from Alexander to Asoka
In those avenues of history and of its times
Brings you the old Buddhist monks
Their stories of old donation and its marks
Of eyes and of purification from desire
The grand purpose, the grand donation
Descends into that place, Takht-i-Bahi
An old water throne, the old reference
Murmurs to these fields of green
To become a part, of an old civilization
As it became from Amar Daan to Mardan
The land of toil and the land of resolve
My home, where rests my remains
Of an old existence of time and of mine
As the memory flows into Takht-i-Bahi
Out comes the rain, of loss and in despair
As the sadness dwells like a morning mist
In all who live, and of all who are gone
Only the prayers, only the hopes
For peace to return, for fields to bloom
The old harvest awaits; the new beginnings
For the old inhabitants to return again!

Kashkin