The garden right in front of the entrance of Humayun’s tomb has a story to tell, a story which is overshadowed by one of the most beautiful place of Delhi. The nocturnal tunes of the birds singing, sitting in the tree lined corridors, while the boys indulge in some cricket sessions, while some love birds take some time off to exchange love with each other.
The pathway has a soul, which is trampled every time people walk through it. A time off from the city life, the pathway gives us an opportunity to engage with the deeper feelings and thoughts, which remain dormant for the most parts of our lives. The city life tends to take a toll on your routine, when each day, each minute you miss a beat, the beat of nature. Just like how Humayun as a person was. A considerate attached father who would not raise his voice over his favourite sons, a well learned man, who was deeply involved in books that it was easy to trick him. A man who exuberated the legacy that he was coming from, as well as spreading the wings of the Mughal empire far and wide.
If we could use the garden area as a metaphor to understand the emperor, it would have been a perfect one. Not very interested in how cleverly sultans would take over empires. That is why he must have lost the empire to the hands of the Afghan ruler Sher Shah Suri. With the help of his able commanders he was quick to take over from the Surs, and re-establish the Mughal empire with much prominence and authority.
As the sun begins to set, and the sky is clear blend, of blue, red and orange, the long pathway is bathed in the glow of the twilight hour which resembles the fallen leaves.