What’s your eyes are looking for in this yellow stained newspaper dated ” year 1999″? What are you searching for under the column of heading WAR MARTYR ? In this cozy Autumn of 2016. It’s been 17 years since time he left home. With bedholder over his shoulder. Broad smile on face. Promising you that he will return when tension would loose, when peace prevail in valley. Your eyes were heavy that time but didn’t want to cry in front of solider, your son. You hugged him unknowingly for last time. Days roll into months. Leaves turned yellow. Day to night. Warm to cold. From talks to guns. Peace to war. What didn’t changed was colour of blood. Valley turned red. Can’t figure out which blood belongs which country men. Both are red. You waited in front of post office waiting for his letter. You kept your ear stuck to radio, listening to war reports and names of martyr, keeping finger clinched. Hoping that he is alive. All day smiling in front of everyone, hiding wound inside. But tears did roll down when night’s silence engulfs the mind. You tried to be strong like a solider’s father. Every passing day didn’t made you weak. Finally sun rose in valley blood got dried. Leaves turned green. Peace prevail on the cost of thousands life. fighters returned home. You waited for him at railway station. Gazing hopefully over every coming train. Over every soul finding your solider. Today you still wait at house in front of gate with piles of newspapers dated 1999. Eyes have turned cloudy. But your search still hope for a eternal sunshine in spotless noir.
Message for everyone out there shouting for war. Do you even know how much a war cost? It’s not something calculated over balanced sheets. Every solider out there at border has a family, he is someone’s son, husband,boyfriend. Ever thought what goes over them?
If you don’t understand pain plz don’t shout for it.
“Its not that solider is afraid to die. Its his son or daughter who is afraid to loose his father”