The Salute
They rhapsodize a soldier’s life often,
But I have lain, bathed in my own blood, shivering,
Feeling it warmly drip away, as the bullet throbs,
I have crouched in ramparts, faced death head on
And have brushed past it, none the wiser,
And none the stronger, for every time.
A long lonely battle it was on the mountains,
Survival, an uncertainty, duty, a necessity.
Plagued by hunger and cold, we have protected
Your lethargy, corruption, bickering and reservations.
Doubt assails him, when the soldier learns of these,
As to whether there is a purpose to what he does.
It is independence day now. The flag salute.
You are attending it. So am
You are there, but not really so, as I observe.
What plays in your mind now oh compatriot?
Have you forgotten your greed and hypocrisy
At least now, or are you still wallowing in them?
A wave of disgust hits me,
What have I wasted my life for?
Given my blood for?
Shivered for? Cried for?
Disconsolate, I come for my customary salute
A gust of wind lifts the flag up, flutters in all glory
The national anthem plays. Emotions stir my heart
The sun shines, and with it, do the blessings of them,
The great leaders of the past, and I am bathed in holiness.
For I have done my duty. I am a proud Indian.
A salty tear, runs down my cheek. I salute.
I stand erect, and I afford a slight smile.
1 comment:
and here's a salute to the splendid poem on every Indian's behalf!
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