You trek through the snow-clad vales with guns, <br />knowing well you march ahead into traps of death, <br />forgetting yourselves, your kith and kin, <br />to face the fierce foes religion-eaten <br />and kill them and be killed or lynched. <br />You bury the corpse of those fanatics <br />doing the rites their parents need to do, <br />as you are from a humane race. <br />But when we receive your flag-draped coffins, <br />seeing your mangled bodies <br />we vent our spleen in flowing tears. <br /> <br />The Tololing peak and the Tiger Hill <br />speak volumes of your valiant deeds. <br />But not even a bit of land we have <br />will ope its lips of our cowardly life. <br />The wealth we heaped and the life we reaped <br />will go to waste as the wheel turns.. <br />Our morbid blood is not fit to spill <br />even on the dells around our hamlets. <br />The blood you shed on harsh terrains <br />flows through the land of Maha Rana <br />and the marvellous warrior Shivaji <br />and give harvests of sacrificial grains <br />and make our children fell and brave. <br /> <br />Let the books of History be filled <br />with the thrills of your facing bullets. <br />We’re fed up with the tales of cruel looters. <br />The future rulers of our land are your kids. <br />Those hurt in wars will sit in offices, <br />and those unhurt will man the police stations <br />and in schools you will inspire the young <br />to roam around the hills where our soldiers fell.<br /><br />rajendran muthiah<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/soldiers-of-the-kargil-war/
