His limbs are aching, his feet are sore
Yet strangely he yearns for more
Chances to worst the devious foe
Oblivious of personal woe.

On frozen snow he steals some rest,
Not dreaming of medals on his chest
But of wife and children far away
From craggy mountains and skies of grey.

He hears agonising screams
Gunfire puncturing fitful dreams
Whirring helicopters in cloudy skies
Dropping spartan, sparse supplies.

He always aimed to do his best
Never envisaging the brutal test
Of courage, strength and fortitude
At such a murderous altitude.

Another day of marching in line
The icy dawn brings no sunshine
But the creeping, inevitable chill
Of defending cruel, distant Kargil.

He’s steeled for the impending sorrow
As an unsung hero of tomorrow
Where cricket bats earn more adulation
Than the true defenders of the nation.

Yet, his grim tryst with destiny he will keep
Even as loved ones nightly weep
Accepting with resigned serenity
The snows as home for eternity.