Bahadur Shah Zafar---The Emperor who wrote his own Epitaph with a burnt stick on the wall.

The empire was theirs—all the land belonged to them—the treasury was theirs—all the currency was issued by them—for they were the mighty Moguls—The rulers of the land—their last crowned Emperor was Bahadur Shah Zafar.

Though not as powerful as his predecessors; he still collected taxes and had an army.

He posed no threat to the British power in India, till the day there started the Indian Rebellion of 1857 .

Already 82 years of age at that time, when the soldiers met him, he gave his public support to the rebellion, even though he was against the open looting, killing and disorder created by the rebelling soldiers.

Later he was exiled to Rangoon, Burma by the British.

His health soon deteriorated and he requested the British to let him return to die in his beloved land—they did not agree.

As his last wish he requested the British to arrange for his burial in his beloved land—they did not agree.

He was a great poet, On his dead bed he wanted to write his last words, the British did not even give him  a pen, paper or ink. 

Then with a burnt stick this devout Sufi wrote on the wall; his last poem his own epitaph.

The immortal words of Raja bahadur shah zafar.

He writes that: He for his burial did not even get two yards of land, in the land of his beloved.

He who was the Emperor –all belonged to him—did not even get a burial place in his land.

लगता नहीं है जी मेरा उजड़े दयार में किसकी बनी है अालम-ए-नापायेदार में बुलबुल को पासबाँ से न सैयाद से गिला क़िस्मत में क़ैद लिखी थी फ़स्ल-ए-बहार में इन हसरतों से कह दो कहीं और जा बसें इतनी जगह कहाँ है दिल-ए-दाग़दार में इक शाख़-ए-गुल पे बैठ के बुलबुल है शादमाँ काँटे बिछा दिये हैं दिल-ए-लालाज़ार में उम्र-ए-दराज़ माँगके लाए थे चार दिन दो अारज़ू में कट गए, दो इन्तज़ार में दिन ज़िन्दगी के ख़त्म हुए शाम हो गई फैला के पाँव सोएँगे कुंज-ए-मज़ार में कितना है बदनसीब “ज़फ़र″ दफ़्न के लिए दो गज़ ज़मीन भी न मिली कू-ए-यार में

lagtā nahīń hé jī mérā ūjař'é dayār méń kiskī banī hé ālam-e-nā-pāyedār méń būlbūl ko pāsbāń se na saiyyād se gilā qismet méń qaid likhī tthī fasl-e-bahār méń kaeh do in hassretoń se kahīń aur jā bas'éń itnī jageh kahāń hé dil-e-dāGhdār méń ik shāKh-e-gūl pe baiTh ke būlbūl hé shādmāń kānTe bichā diye héń dil-e-lālāzār méń umr-e-darāz māńg ke lāye tthe chār din do ārzū méń kaT gayé do intezār méń din zindagī ke Khatm hué shām ho gayī p'hailā ke pāoń soyeń-ge kūńj-e-mazaar méń kitnā hé bad-naseeb zafar dafn ke liye do gaz zamīn bhī na milī kū-e-yār méń

 Translation:

My heart has no repose in this despoiled land

Who has ever felt fulfilled in this futile world?

The nightingale complains about neither the sentinel nor the hunter

Fate had decreed imprisonment during the harvest of spring

Tell these longings to go dwell elsewhere

What space is there for them in this besmirched (bloodied)

Heart

Sitting on a branch of flowers, the nightingale rejoices

It has strewn thorns in the garden of my heart

I had requested for a long life, I received four days

Two passed in desire, two in waiting.

The days of life are over, evening has fallen

I shall sleep, legs outstretched, in my tomb

How unfortunate is Zafar! For his burial

Not even two yards of land were to be had, in the land of his beloved.

How can we rely on our fortunes? What material things will we take with us?----even the Emperor lost it all-----but left his immortal words.