AN ODE TO THE MARTYRS OF PULWAMA
“Leave is over”,
arrives the duty’s call
Vows the man, “For
my country I shall fight and fall.
It
is time again to defend the nation
so
that in peace can dwell my countrymen across generations.”
He packs his bag, dons the uniform and stands in front
of the mirror,
he smiles and says, “Here I come mother to stifle terror.”
“Tomorrow is
14th Feb, stay back for a day”, requests the weeping wife in
vain.
He comforts, “Oh
Honey! Do not cry. We are sure to meet again.”
“Promise me
that you will be back”, asks the lady with teary eyes.
The man salutes and says in jest, “Once you order ma’am, I have to abide.”
Bawling, a little angel runs into her father’s arms,
the man consoles as he listens to his daughter’s
tantrums.
Crying she asks, “Oh Dada! Why do you always have to go?
Why
can’t you wait and see me grow?”
The man smiles and says, “Dear, there are some bad men you know.
I
must scold them so that our motherland doesn’t bow.”
His little princess smiles and declares, “Well then my dada is a hero!”
He touches his parents’ feet and takes their
blessings.
The pain of separation evident in their tears and
their lips dry and trembling.
He gives a quick kiss on his lady’s forehead
as he sets on a journey that his loved ones dread.
He joins his regiment and in buses they embark
to end the threats and stand as a bulwark.
The buses move in queue oblivious of the danger
as a militant lurked in a bomb-laden vehicle to
unleash terror.
The vehicle rams into a bus and ensues a massive
explosion.
Sadly demons have again succeeded in fulfilling
their gory ambition.
The man lies injured on the cold road along with his
fellow soldiers,
bruised in discharging the national duties that they
shoulder.
“Jai Hind” was all the man’s
mutilated lips could mutter
as his mind’s eye sees the national flag flutter.
He recalls the memories of his parents, wife and
daughter
then shuts his eyes and life closes in on him
forever.
The nation arose to salute the heroes,
the ones who sacrificed their “today” so that we see
the “tomorrow”.
Enclosed in a coffin, reaches home his mortal
remains
as the nation unites to salute the fallen men.
The mother copiously cries and yet says with pride, “My son has attained martyrdom
as
he was on his way to protect his mother, her dignity and her freedom.”
The little angel says, “Dada! Dada! Why you silent? I want to be cuddled.”
The wail and the the gun salute have left her
innocent mind muddled.
The inconsolable wife helplessly pleads, “Please don’t do this to me dear.
Wake
up, hold me tight and say it is just a nightmare.”
As he still lies cold, she reminds her love, “Before leaving, you promised you would come
back as per my order.”
Just then her little daughter whispers in her ear, “Mama, he has kept his promise…..he is back
but draped in the tricolor.”
~SAURAJIT SINHA
