Dear Soldier, I’ve Penned Down This Poem For You

I salute you.

I don’t know if this poem is enough to give justice to your work.

(Photo: Shruti Mathur/The Quint)

A gun was shot, or a few perhaps.
A small ball of lead travelled through the air and pierced his heart.
With a smile on his face, he embraced his death,
And his dreams of being home for Diwali fell with his gun.

Wrapped in a flag, his body came home.
His mother in tears and his son clueless.
His wife still thinking if it was a nightmare.
His face still glowing of pride and bravery.
And his friends were there to fire some rounds in his honour.

Now his son adds “late” before his father's name,
And longs for a toy that his friend got for his birthday.
His mom asks him to wait for a week,
More than the pension, she expects him to forget.

The kid often asks his mom about what his father did,
To which she says, he protected the nation and the government.
He wonders if it’s the same government where his friend's father works,
The friend who wants to become an engineer.

The kid has ambitions too.
He wants to become an engineer like his friend does.
But little does he know that his father's pension is not as big as his dreams are.
His mother, however, wants him to become a graduate.

Time would see him follow on his fathers footsteps, a soldier he became.
While his friend would get enrolled in some big college in a distant land.
The boy would have wanted to study, but more than that, he would have needed to earn.

Tired of everything, he would ask one day,
“What did my father give us?”
His mom would reply, “He gave us freedom.”