He was barely twenty-four
his scream resembled a lion’s roar.
He had only one goal
which burned like coal.
Engaged he was to his beloved
and that’s when the call came.
He marched away calling it a game
while everyone was in tears.
Languages, religion, caste and creed,
none of these mattered to him.
Hatred, anger, lust and greed,
he never held those in him.
The day arrived bringing in fear.
He isn’t here,
wept his bride
and his parents at her side.
On a fateful day,
keeping rest at bay,
he fought more than what you’d say
if you saw him pay
back every pain the enemy gave
his countrymen. He can save
but can’t be saved.
A loud blast and there lay
the great son of the country.
He came back wrapped in the tricolour
and the entire nation mourned his death.
There were naysayers talking in favour
of the enemy country but were silenced.
The soldier’s contribution can never be forgotten
or neglected.
Oh brave son of the soil! Thou art a martyr