With our heads up and ahead,
Do we care to look back,
To those who save our lives,
By bearing the enemy attack.
Then think of this my countrymen,
What I believe, now I write,
About those brave soldiers in Kargil,
Who won the battle, and the fight.
You went out there,
You did bear the brunt,
To save our dear Mother,
And protect the Holy Front.
For months thou have fought,
That evil and brutal enemy,
And laid thy selves to the grave,
While thy name lives for eternity.
I feel deep affliction,
As I shed a tear for thee,
Bravely thou went up to God,
Leaving thy dearest family.
But I feel not plain sorrow,
My chest fills with pride,
That doing thy duty, O Brothers,
Thou all, for us, have died.
Brothers I do call them,
They are of my own blood,
And as each martyr is rested,
With tears my eyes do flood.
The enemy pierced through him,
With many a gun and dart,
The pain did not just hurt him,
It touched each Indian’s heart.
Even though his blood did spew,
And painted the Himalayas red,
Climbing each cliff, climbing each hill,
On the road of victory did he tread.
O Holy Lord, please bless him now,
For all that he has done,
Saving us from shame and indignity,
Proved he our Mother’s real son.
Oh yes, my friend, I salute thee,
And I thank you for saving me,
No words are enough for thy valour,
That thou showed for thy country.
For however much I talk of him,
And put him on pedestals of glory,
There will always be sorrow yet pride,
When I speak of my brother’s story.