AN ODE TO THE MARTYRS OF PULWAMA

                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 14^th 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