Studded with gems, crafted with gold.
A lustre so bright… the moon held an intent to conspire the world against it.
A smile so kind… the ink stopped bleeding praises for a mother’s heart.
Eyes so deep… no man could quieten his curiosity to explore the mystic realm behind.
No sculptor’s hands would have dreamt of carving a nose so sharp.
The brow screamed the wisdom that the charming silhouette promised to behold.
It was a mask… Oh! So fine!
It must have taken the nobility of a prince.
It must have taken a heart, as pure as ash… to be honoured with such an adornment.
Or, so the world believed… until a harsh blow of wind claimed rebellion and knocked the mask off.
The crime was “Contempt of the royal visor”…
The wind wasn’t guilty…
But, the appalling sight that followed, it poisoned the air.
It was a corpse for a face.
Deep dark ditches for those beautiful eyes.
A long sharp thorn for the finest of the noses.
A rotten scab for that skin of gold.
Folks yelled curses, hissed at the ghoul.
Babies wailed with fear as they hugged their mothers.
“To boycott and shun the guest of dishonour”, was the court’s way to bring justice.
The trial would have been the ghastliest of them all…
Only if, another masked man wouldn’t have stepped into the arena.
Only if, another gleaming piece of gold wouldn’t have inebriated the eyes of the rank and file.
‘cause, who frowns at the evil when they get to gasp for the artistry.
The world has a way to forget justice for glory.
– Gauri Walecha