The Promise

This poem is dedicated to all those brave, selfless soldiers, who willingly and most happily put down their lives for the nation in the Kargil War. I am a very proud son of this nation; made proud because of all those fathers and brothers, sons and husbands who have sacrificed in the supreme sense of the word - because I am an Indian.

He promised he’d be back today
And take me out.
He said it would be this day,
When we could scout.

He promised me a hundred times,
To take me into the wood.
He said, “In a world of crimes,
It does you a lot of good.”

I remember him in his uniform bright,
Sling over his shoulder the rifle,
Setting out to protect all that’s right,
He looked at me; smiled a trifle.

He hugged my mother and her eyes glistened,
With no trace of pretence.
He kneeled ere me and I intently listened
To his promise, in all innocence.

* * *

It was late, dark and raining,
When came that knock.
He grimly said something, his colour all draining,
Which hit dear mother like a rock.

A young lad am I; yet I knew
I had lost father dear.
We had to start again anew,
As the shroud began to clear.

Slowly I looked up to my mother-
Her hands and face pale;
Looking frail as a feather,
Unknowing to lament her tale.

“I shall not, my father, shed a tear;
Your’s is a supreme sacrifice.
To uphold good and duty, I shan’t ever fear;
Your son, my loving father, I promise.”


* * *