Never he was a vassal to the Moghul,
Who led a Turkish mob to plunder
And annexe the Princely States of Bharat.
“God alone is my suzerain and not a Turk”,
He thundered and kept his word till his end.
His gallant steed Chetak matched his prowess
And vied for glory with his master Rana.
When the subdued kings lost their queens
or wedded to the Sultan their daughters,
Rana Pratap, Mewar’s Rajput Chief
Proved a lion to show the pride of his race,
By bowing not his head to Delhi.
Those who bent their knees at the Court of Moghuls
Couldn’t sit, chat and dine with him.
This insult rankled in the mind of Man Singh
Who led the army of Akbar, The Great,
And he hinted for a war with Delhi.
Missions sent to bend Rana’s heart
Failed to make any dent, and crumbled.

Hakim Khan Sur, though a Pathan
Fought at front for Rana’s army.
He had no myopic spell of religion.
He liked Rana, who treated the women
of the vanquished foe with reverence
And stood high in morals among the kings.
The randy Turks never learnt the laws of war.
They were nefarious and lawless mobs from afar.
Sur laid his life for the sake of Rana
On the first day of war at Haldighati.
The brave Bhils stood by the marvellous Rana
And Haldighati amidst Auroville hills
Turned to red with blood and saffron-turbaned heads.
Guerrilla warfare, so Rana chose
To save his men with swords and bows from guns.
Akbar’s forces couldn’t single out Pratap
To capture him alive or dead.
Breaking all the cordons, Pratap advanced
To strike at Man Singh seated on his elephant.
Chetak hopped aloft and Pratap hurled his spear
At the shameless lieutenant of Delhi.
But Man Singh escaped while his mahout fell dead.
And in the fiery fight, Pratap got trapped.
Man Singh’s faeryderm swung a sword from it’s trunk
And Chetak got a lethal cut at it’s leg.
A deadly blow also fell on Rana.
Jhala Man, the wondrous Chief of Rana
Snatched the royal emblem from Rana’s head
And bore the brunt of attack on his King.
His Chieftains tried hard to whisk Rana off
And he sallied out with his injured horse.
Jhala Man was mistaken for Rana,
And the hostile men surrounded him and killed.
Rana beat a retreat into the hills,
But two Moghuls pursued him for his head
For them to be awarded with royal gifts.

Crossing a rivulet Chetak neighed and fell,
The first time in his life to feel remorse
And breathed his last on Rana’s lap.
Rana took the saddle off his Chetak
And shed a Master’s tears on his closing eyes.
An estranged brother of Rana Pratap,
Serving under the imperial Akbar,
Chased the blood thirsty Mughuls,
severed their heads and saved his brother,
Whom the people adored as the hero.
He pleaded with Rana to mount on his horse
And hurry into the Ghatti hills deep and dense,
Where the Mughuls dared not to enter,
As the Bhills under Panja would spray stones
From the hide-outs, Nature shaped in those hills.

The loss of all his ferocious fighters
In sanguinary battles fought often,
Made Rana grievous, and he exiled himself
Into the desert, with remaining men.
He had a wise Minister to salvage
And urge him again to wield the sword
Against Delhi dreaming to swallow Bharat.
Bhama Shah, his boundless wealth to Rana gave
And the lion of Mewar defied again
And rallied his men to regain his fort.

Akbar ceased from futile wars with Rana
And turned his ire to the West of North.
Rana ruled in peace to the ease of all.
A cut on his leg put Rana on his bed.
In his nebulous vision, he saw his horse
And his soul bade bye on being pledged
That his Mewar would not bow to Delhi
And flew up mounting on his Chetak.