Bombings, shootings and deaths, the same thing had been happening all around for two days, but when the news came that a young man from our very own village had been martyred, the entire territory began mourning.
Eventually the difficult time came when the young soldier was brought, wrapped in our tricolour national flag. Not only his family, but every single villager was drowned in the sorrow of his death.
His mother clung to the corpse of her Veer Jawan son. She cried bitterly and said, “Oh my God! What have you done ..? Such a deep wound! How can I bear to see his body bruised and bleeding, when it should have been the wedding haldi? I had willed to see him in his marriage suit and never imagined that his lifeless body would be covered in this tiranga. Oh Lord, before shattering us with this terrible grief, you should have at least thought of his fiancee. How will she live now?”
It was then that the father of the immortal jawan who was a retired military officer himself, came and told his wife with teary eyes,
“His fiancee is our daughter now. Alongside with her parents we shall happily marry her off to another suitable man. Nonetheless, our country has lost a brave soldier, what about that?”
Just then the Veer Jawan’s younger brother came forward, put his hand on his father’s shoulder and said with tears in his eyes, “Don’t worry Dad, I’m there. Our country will not miss having a soldier.”
Father hugged his son and grieved more. A thought crossed his mind and he wondered,
“Am I lucky or unlucky!?”
Written by – Jagruti Kaila
Translated by – Shamim Merchant