The Frozen Blood

C. Ram Srikanth

Being high, the Siachen glacier, was deserted by the bone biting wind,
but became warm for a while, echoing, ‘Jai Hind - Jai Hind’.,
The souls of the great martyrs, who breathed there their last,
praising their mother with immortal love, stead fast.
Went there he, with a great zeal and all arms of defence
so as to protect his land from the trespassers’ offence.
Known to him not to retreat, though he knew the murderous snow bites.,
and greater is he than the saints, who do penance days and nights.

Renouncing everything, to show his nation’s marvellous might,
moving was he, leaving kith and kin, in extremis, to fight.
Known to him not, when the terrific avalanche falls,
to take his life, the acme of the great Himalayan walls.
Could not guess he, the ominous portent for the vehement blizzard,
that darkens the vision and blinds, as a perilous hazard.

With brave heart, confronting he, the enemies’ continuous shelling,
and shot them to death, which he was aiming.

But with an incessant desire to safeguard his loving mother,
stayed he there, all the night, without bothering for the weather.
Sudden blizzard then attacked him, on that ice mound;
and in no time, buried him deep in snow around.
Could not come now, from his throat, even a single sound
as it was shut by the chilled snow around.
Blocked ice, at his nostrils, making the breath suffocating
and freezing eyelids strenuously struggling for blinking.
But still warm was his will, though dwindling he, with the frozen blood;
as the stream of patriotism in him, flowing like a flood.
As a mighty hero, receiving the nation’s salute, slept he for ever,
like a child, gently, in the holy lap of his mother.