The majestic snow covered mountains,
A symbol of peace and tranquility
Have undergone a transformation.
The echoing of the guns,
The air raid sirens,
The cry of the wounded
Reverberate through the air,
Pierce the stillness.
The young soldiers
Barely out of their teens
Appear tough in their uniforms.
A long line to place calls home
The conversation with the loved ones
Drop the façade.
Underneath lies the soft core,
In the wallet a photograph,
What is this battle all about?
A piece of land that stays,
People who move on,
Occupy only a rectangular space
Six feet by two!!
The smoke had left the ground,
There was no move, no sound.
The mastiff rose with a high chest,
To find its dead master in earnest.
The aura brought the smell of destruction,
The mastiff moved forward with adoration.
It had, at last, its master found,
Lying lifeless on the damaged ground.
There were thousands of men paying penalty to dead,
All died for their country to get their history made.
There were lakhs of battle men terminated,
Fought for their national feelings to get ventilated.
Every soul became sad as besmirch had got their nation,
But now, every dying heart knew, war was not the solution.
No victors, no vanquished,
To speak of pride, so childish.
The robust dog thought, God, why this war?
You have taken their lives fixed in a deadly jar.
Men were fighting for their own mother nature,
To lose their only lives like forest creatures.
Again the mastiff rose with a tear in its eye,
And asked the question as to its depression – why?
It had its evening for its master in moan,
And started its maiden journey sad alone.
Droplets of tear still remain on eyes,
World yet to recover from human cruelty.
Splashes of blood stains remain on walls of history.
Where, we created an epithet of meanness.
Wrote a long story of war and peace,
Dawn of peace came when all got tired.
But, just to recoup ourselves for another aggression.
In the name of god we kill each other.
We know how to be cruel butchers of all time.
Race, caste, class, colour, creed, and religion,
Are cliché on the walls of history?
All just our thoughts for a show of strength.
Inventions are useful for war techniques.
Once we tested our capabilities on raw fleshes
Those two cities* are real monuments of human cruelty.
Yes the success rate was cent percent.
We have our war games to test effectiveness.
Our equipments are fine tuned to last.
One day we will do it, one race one nation,
By burning ourselves chanting “Ashes to Ashes, dust to dust”
*Hiroshima And Nagasaki