The Soldier’s Boot

The soldiers marching all along,

like the tide, to make the combatant clutter,

the brave-hearts of the country

whose families were to shatter.

Through the muddy terrains,

to the harrowing valleys,

they kept on marching

chanting the song of bravery,

one of him remembering his fiancé whom he is to marry.

The night seemed endless

with firing and bullets and rage,

the martyred bodies lying,

all feeling as trapped in a cage,

few of them taking their last breath ,

Scribbling something on that page.

The only passion is to save their motherland,

the real heroes of the country,

Someone’s father, brother and son,

were showcasing their gallantry.

The war was over,

news of their success was spread far and away,

the families locked up in their houses crying,

praying to see their loved ones marching towards them all the way.

There was something that day that really touched me,

the five year old girl’s innocence did show me the struggles to its roots,

holding my finger she took me,

Where she kept her father’s boots.

Those boots stained with mud and blood,

made me to weep,

and the story of the martyred soldier

trying to resuscitate for peace.

There i saw a note, blood stained

on which was written:

‘This was all i could do for you, my daughter!

You are all for me,

the courage i could gather was because of you and for you.

will always shower all for you from me.’

 

That was the day when I understood the true emotion of a soldier,

who withstands through the scorching heats,

to the freezing cold temperatures

like a boulder.

Here i pledge:

‘I would like to salute all the soldiers’

whom we do not even know,

but those are standing upright on the borders,

to take the bullets on them and give up their today to save our tomorrow.’

Jai Hind!

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