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.