Mind Frame

Its quite often that we ignore the plight of those who taught us how to think. Quite easily we tend to forget the sacrifices they made for us, the nights they were awake and they were there with those warm comforting hands. Quite easily, their inocent ways of looking at life and concern that can be seen in their eyes when all's not well. The fact that they dont sleep well,when miles away we (or atleast i) are not at rest. Some of us do realise their worth but those who dont do so end up rendering them in the twilight of their life to sad avenues like old age homes. So, i for a change put myself in the shoes of those who are less fortunate and came up with the following lines. Its a small attempt to look at the misery and pain that might be felt by them. I know I am going to be alone now, Coz no ones going to be home now, But then this is how always, my daily story ends. Bills adorn my walls now, But surprisingly somehow, Busy in all my ways I am-is how I pretend. Walls around me sm...

This piece of writing happened to come to mind when I was reading about the prisoners of war and how they suffer well after the war is over and forgotten. To be more precise the fact when Sarabjit Sings mercy petition was being played around with (it still is) and the media had no other issue to focus on. The thoughts in my mind were what if the man is innocent (I gave it an unbiased approach) would it not be a sheer waste of life. The loss of a man who might have had amazing calibre. This piece of writing is a tribute of thoughts to those who still lie behind enemy lines forgotten by the majority but revered and remembered by those who know the price of freedom. Silence cuts him like a knife, Pity follows like dusk after a moonless night, Segregated, confiscated an unwanted end to a spotless life. Days mark the hours on his prison walls, Age clings on like rust. Deep inside the dungeon he lies like a dagger in the dust.

The following thoughts of mine found their way to form a prose when I happened to witness the courage of a soldier’s family on national television in the advent of his martyrdom. Soldiers who die an unsung death don’t really do so as long as the select few such as me and may be you continue to acknowledge the spirit, commitment, and dedication shown by them every moment, everyday. Rising white moonlight had their backs outlined, A thousand miles away an old wrinkled face smiled, Pacified by glory, armed by spirit in strife, She stood at her doorway counting shreds of life, A million stars dismembered the pattern of the sky, As thunder split the heavens and fire came alive. Tears wet her veil, hope shielded her eyes, From promises unkempt, hollow truths and lies, Powder filled the winter air and time came to a hold, Metal shred the hillside, a young life moaned. Stretched by valour, tested by vagaries of time, Hope became glimmer and faded away the shine. Down came the colours, guns ran...