(Penned in the emotional hours of the Kargil War)
Make me valiant,
Let drops of blood from my veins
Fall on the ground below.
Canons and bullets,
Let them pierce through my flesh.
And my soul escape this worthless body.
Let my heart tell the profound story
Of this battlefield.
And my bashful hands help build a Nation strong.
Let my victory call for a banquet,
And wreaths and laurels thereafter.
Nation, let me be a soldier!
I wish to talk about the ‘celestial’…
A cherub,
A sunshine,
The eighth colour of the rainbow,
A smile,
A togetherness,
A bond,
A tomorrow,
A promise,
A tear,
A holding,
A forever,
A ‘let go’;
I wish to talk about the ‘celestial’…
Of silent voices,
Of listening,
Of two pair of feet,
Of evening shadows that merge,
Of familiar shores,
Of hearts that echo,
Of anchors that are
Of anchors that be,
Of ‘chiquititas’ and their souls,
Of big hands and small,
Of a loving and a loved.
Need I say more?
I wish to talk about the ‘celestial’,
About a friend…
My friend!!!
It is not easy
to let the World know,
How much ‘the caring’ can add to life…
How well ‘a rainbow’ makes a promise…
How much ‘the silence’ can be ‘the turbulence’…
It is not easy to let the World know,
How much ‘My Mom’ loves me!
Sad days…
When I seem to lose myself in the crowd,
She picks me up, each time I fall.
She promises me a clear sky, Oh! So blue!
And to stick by me, all my life through.
She nurtures in me dreams of ‘tomorrows’,
Her gentle touch drives away all my ‘sorrows’.
I am not the best child…
I fight and scream at her.
She loves me still,
Just as much,
As she did ever.
Gives her days and nights
…and…
Her benevolence quietly touches me,
She says she wants nothing!
My ‘caring’, my ‘rainbow’,
My ‘silence’ and my ‘turbulence’,
Mumma you’re my World.
I love you, Oh! So much.
You are ‘the constant in my life…
All that I am and ever hope to be,
It is because of thee…
You mother,
I call ye ‘Sacrifice’.
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