Guarding Angels

(Note: This poem is a dedication to the worthy soldiers of the country and to honor their martyrdom, their chivalry and their passion for the motherland, India)

You die there, we live here

It is uncertain to us what death is

And it is uncertain to you what it is like living

We live every passing moment

They become a memory for us

You pass with every moment

And become a memory for us.

We have infinite names, we can be called anything

But what is your name, what should I call you?

Soldier, security personnel, they are so earthly

But your spirit, your passion is purer and unearthly

You are guarding angels, higher than us all

Be there wherever you are, like a cloud on the sky

Like a sage, like every beautiful humming fly

You ensure our breaths; you show immense care

We grow in our places with one marked difference

Over and over again; you die there and we live here.

Stunning Artistes: The Hills

The golden morrow illuminates thy skin,

Dripping each dewdrop to bathe thy essentials,

Thy fragrance comes from the mysterious flora,

Thou need nothing unnatural to sew thy gabardine.

Each passing moment show unnoticed colors

Once I saw thee in gloomy but drizzling rain,

Dance of weakest storm ignites thy passion,

I saw thee surrendering to the majestic minstrel,

Unmasking thou art bit by bit to propel.

There were times I saw thee under torturing heat,

Thou left canopied armies to cover thy face,

The silvery balm came in the dark for thee,

Only to heal thy scars, to restore thy grace.

Thee preformed from ages and ages are there to come,

My admiration with passing moment will too get old,

Still thee dances, sings and acts, still I see the announcing drum,

After I rest, may souls like me never let thy tale remain untold.