On a dark night with skies gloomy
With none but silence for company
The name of Ghodkhind¹ then I held
When this legend long ago had swelled.

The siege of Panhala² was pierced
Breaking the fatal grip fierce
With the mavalas³ who have no fears
Arrives Shiva who alone wind tears.

To trample the freedom of the land
Summoned by the Shah’s⁴ wishes grand
Chases him with malice to strand
An army that Masud Siddi manned.

To see the light of the day
Strong swords behind need to stay
To slow the enemy along the way
Shiva chose his men for a foray.

To steal victory from those with vice
To crush vultures in the precipice
Stood a general against the nemesis
to shield a young nation’s genesis.

Shiva rides away with a heart heavy
To conquer a fort towards safety
Outnumbered with only a few handy
Positions Baji his men deftly.

The savages slide in waves of three
Each time they had to take a knee
With every shadow and every body
Battles brawny blood-stained Baji.

The Mavalas swing swords with one goal
For Shiva’s sake not to lose any control
They arose such that no shadow nor soul
Could breakthrough them to make a hole.

The chase by now has come to a stall
As Siddi prays for the leader’s fall
But with every cut Baji fights tall
Paying no heed to the reaper’s call.

The worn and weary warrior somehow
Clings to his life to fulfill his vow
Until in the air the cannon shots⁵ plow
Then lets go all that he held until now.

The lore of this night with all the din
I sing it to every wanderer and wind
When one man alone had scores pinned
And transformed me into a Pavankhind⁶.

(Read the Marathi version here)

¹ Ghodkhind (Horse’s Pass) is an extremely narrow pass where only a few soldiers can pass at a time.

² In early March 1660, Panhala came under seige of Bijapuri forces led by Siddi Jauhar. Shivaji expected that the onset of the rains would slacken the siege. But when that did not happen, Shivaji, along with the Baji Prabhu Deshpande and few hundred soldiers, escaped from Panhala towards Vishalgad.

³ The western belt of the Puna district, running along the Western Ghats for a length of 90 miles and a breadth of 12 to 24 miles, is known as Maval or the Sunset Land. From this region Shivaji drew his best soldiers, his earliest comrades, and his most devoted followers.

⁴ The Adilshahis were the dynasty which ruled Bijapur for many centuries. The ruler at the time was Ali Adil Shah II. Shivaji had inflicted embarrassing defeats upon the Adilshahis, and they were determined to crush him.

⁵ The gun-fire from Vishalgad, Shivaji’s destination fort, gave the anxiously expected signal that he had reached safety within its walls.

⁶ Ghodkhind was subsequently named Pavankhind (“Holy Pass”) in honor of the sacrifice of Baji Prabhu and his troops.

References:

Shivaji and His Times, Jadunath Sarkar (1920) (Available for download here)

The Siege of Panhala, 1660

Shivaji, Baji Prabhu & the Battle of Pavan Khind

“Aye rose! Or by whichever name
they may call thee,
no less sweet
thy smell would be.”
So truly said a sage,
all many ages ago,
for no name can lessen,
the burning beauty’s glow.

So let the other mortals
spend their mettle and might,
and let more metaphors
for thee they wish or indite.
And as the rest preen for thee,
many more minutes may die,
while at thy feet they quote,
their vows and sighs.

Let me not squander any such seconds
and abet in a crime,
but instead make a heap
and gather these gravels of time.
And so a treasure I will own,
to fight against the clock one day,
since from the time’s rule and wrath,
none ever has escaped away.

So when at thy doorstep does,
to obey the tenet of time age arrives,
into thy beauty’s hour-glass
be poured my treasure and so will thrive,
the mist laden in thy eyes,
the lips where softness abides,
the crown of the dark tresses,
that grandly on thy head lies.

Defeated thus will thy age,
to lay asleep back it’s home return,
unspoiled thy beauty would wake,
with every new rising sun.
And in this world when counted be,
instead of penny or pearl to make a sum,
the grace, the flair, and the charm,
then the richest may thou become.

Let me take you miles deep into the past,
And stage the set where this show was cast.
Played by the people of the place called Rome,
When Claudius was the king who ruled their home.

Emperors fancy their empires to expand,
How different could be the lord of this land?
He craved for a lofty army to venture far,
So he summoned all men to join his war.

Battles bring home blood and tear,
To join the royal forces all had this fear.
If one breathes his last in the wear and tear,
What would life be for their loved one and dear?

To enlist when only a few hundred did turn,
With surprise and anger the king began to burn.
With handful men on the field he could nothing earn,
So he declared his dogma to have more of them churn.

“If the lust to live for a loved one holds you back,
The very custom of matrimony I order to sack.”
The troops tracked the traitors, lovers began to rue,
And the churches starved for the words “I do”.

“Way is where there’s a will”, said one of fame,
To bless the love’s laborers a holy soul then came.
Priest by profession, Valentine was his name,
To obey the decree and death, to him were the same.

Couples who wished to defy had always him sought,
In Valentine’s chamber they tied their knot.
During such merry moment the kings soldiers knocked,
The priest let the pair escape and got himself caught.

“Throw him into dungeons deep”, the king roared,
“Traitor he is, behead him to settle his score.”
“Treason it may be for you, but after I have died,
God’s court will greet me with grace”, Valentine replied.

In the prison wishes of many had him sought after,
Including the jailor Asterius and his blind daughter.
She brought him food and became his messenger,
A bond beyond words grew between him and her.

Valentine’s faith restored the sight of his caretaker,
No wonder he became a Saint later.
And before breathing his last, to her he shared a line,
“Love forever, from your Valentine.”

Easy to heal are the wounds,
that your enemy with a sword sears,
when you have a shoulder to rest on,
and hands to wipe off your tears.
But the bleeding self finds no rest,
and tears fail to abate,
when a loved one cuts your heart,
with the words of hate.

I knew not this when you left the door,
beats less this heart since and bleeds more.
Another day ends without any solace,
another lonely night searches for your face.
The clouds come over to beat their band,
the drops drizzle down for the longing land.
My eyes envy the earth and they weep for a while,
as they lay awake all night thirsty for your smile.

Forlorn lies the garden with a breeze so sedate,
when once cheerfully with your tresses it played.
The stars though they twinkle as before,
the songs they sang I hear no more.
Remember the blessings on us they had thrown,
when in the garden of dreams seeds you had sown.
“Sweet be the dreams tonight thou shall see,
tomorrow when thou live them, sweeter they be.”

Derelict lay them and when they wake up at night,
pose me a question you not being in their sight,
“When will the hands return, that here did stay,
that nurtured us all along, night be or day?”
Not again this promise should break I pray,
as, “Tomorrow they will,” to them I say.
And as long as death makes not my soul free,
Here I wait for that tomorrow and thee.