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A CIVILIANS TRIBUTE

A CIVILIANS TRIBUTE.
By DINESH K KAPILA.
Mom dear,
My units on the move,
We are of to Doda,
to fight the militants there.

Son, son, don’t go,
Your mom’s afraid,
Let me warn you,
this country’s not worth dying for.

Mom, its my men,
My units ‘izzat’
Our country’s honour,
I shall fight for it all.

Son, son, don’t go,
Your mom’s fearful,
Let me entreat you,
This country’s not worth dying for.

Mom dear, do understand,
This ancient land, our people,
We fight for them.
Come on, just Bless me.

Son, son, don’t go,
Nobody is bothered,
Except this old woman,
This country’s not worth dying for.

Mom, you will be so proud,
Dense jungles, nightfall, snowfall,
Marches, ambushes and firing,
Not a man did I lose.

Confusion, conflicting orders,
men sweated but stood firm,
we fought and killed,
proud at a job well done.

Son son,
Listen you will not,
Be cautious, be afraid,
Here a man’s worth is his money.
The streets of Delhi
are paved with Gold,
You fight a forgotten war,
This country’s not worth dying for.

Mom, the enemy’s cruel,
They torture, they maim,
Kill cruelly, these terrorists,
They fight a vicious war.

We shall drive them out,
We shall throw them out,
My unit, my men,
We are one solid rock.

Son, oh my dear son,
Your girl waits for you,
We both need you,
Come, Cheer me up.

A wedding there shall be,
A granny I shall be,
Take leave, son, take leave,
This country’s not worth dying for.

Mom, tell her I am coming,
Let me sterile my area,
It’s just a matter of time,
Light up the home, light up the home.

Son, my heart’s all a flutter,
There’s darkness all around,
What will I do with lights,
This country’s not worth dying for

Ma’m, we solemnly regret,
Your brave son’s no more,
He attained martyrdom today,
He did sterilize his area.

Ma’m, this young cub fought,
Surrounded was he, but he fought,
His unit, his men,
Do grieve and cry for him.


Died he a martyr’s death,
Be proud of him,
Do not grieve oh mother,
We are all your sons.

Son, oh son,
did I not beseech you ?
who shall dry this old woman’s tears,
who shall light my home ?

who shall make me a granny,
who shall hold my hand,
when my time shall come?
This country’s not worth dying for.

A martyr’s mother,
In this land, a pariah,
What honour? what regard?
Oh son, I have lost it all.

Son, son,
Come back to me,
My heart is broken,
My lips, they are sealed.

On the streets they say,
A poor officer, he died,
Her son, you know,
On some remote hill.

Cash boxes open,
Deals are struck,
I wanted an official favour,
Stood I last in the queue.

Son, oh son,
You lion cub, my life,
Why did you not understand,
This country’s not worth dying for.

===============================================================

Composed by Dinesh K Kapila, 1547 Sector 36- D, Chandigarh. 160036. It’s a tribute in his personal capacity to all the young men attaining martyrdom in the country. Unsung, unheard, they go to their valhalla.
===============================================================

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