His moustache had icicles on them….
His toes frost- bitten….
His fingers numb….
Yet,he stood alert at the borders that night….all night….
At dawn,as the guns paused for a while,
He turned on his cell and eagerly texted his mom…
“Ma,i love you….
Ma, i’ll be home soon…”
Close to her seventy-fifth b’day,
She was going under the knife for the first time….
She looked at his message again….yet again….
“He says he’s on his way….”
We smiled….
“Yes, he is……”
We knew he wasn’t….couldn’t be….
For he was standing with his men in knee- deep snow,
Where the silence of the valleys was being pierced by the gunshots…..
His heart was with his mother….
He craved to be with her….
But he put his hand on his heart…
Hardened his nerves…
Wiped his moist eyes….
And remembered his oath….
“….me and my family will come last….
Always and every time….”
Salute the mother,who taught him to love….
His Motherland….
Salute the son,for whom ‘The Oath’ is etched in stoned to this day….
Salute you, brother,for your selfless love…..
Authored By : Aporajita Jain
Picture By : Smita Ranjan Keron
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