Quite many years ago,
now its nearly a score.
many families had to forego,
the lions of the soil, their roar.
Stony, dusty, a steep terrain,
devoid of greenery and rain.
Like yesteryear the trust broke,
they crossed over in a winter stroke.
Sons, fathers, mothers - all suffered,
by betrayal, the ground stained as rumoured.
Wrapped in Tricolour, they came back,
while for honour our men pushed on track.
For duty, with courage they bravely fought,
many took the bullets while some did not.
The Nation bathed in glory and red,
while the devil stabbed us in dark and shade.
Some martyred in bits and pieces,
the story of our patriots as one traces.
The fair souls did their part,
being on the vigil for us - always alert.
Prasenjit©1997-2020
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