To those who laid down their lives for the land,
Every head bows low in reverent stand.
The valley that blushed with crimson red,
Where brave hearts fought and heroes bled,
It was our soil — that sacred place,
Where foes crept in with coward’s face.
With breath so thin, and heights so steep,
Each gasp they took was a wager deep.
Yet cries of “Victory to Motherland!”
Echoed across the frozen land.
On Tiger Hill, they stood their ground,
Our soldiers bold, their courage unbound.
Unfurling the tricolour once again on top
While bullets flew and bodies drop.
And when the news reached her old, frail ears,
That her son had died with no trace of fears
On Tololing’s rocks, he breathed his last,
Her heart broke with each memory past.
She clutched his photo to her chest,
And wept for nights without a rest.
Recalling childhood days once more,
Each tear a tribute, love and adore.
Every martyr on the border line
Becomes a star that forever shines.
And seeing his flame of sacrifice,
Even the sun must blink its eyes.
Tarandeep Singh (Teacher)
Nature: A Strange Thing
The definition of nature can never be explained.
The time stands still and sometimes we are pained.
The pain of nature is not easy to see.
It is like a painful sting of a bee.
These stings cannot be healed.
But we have to use a certain shield.
In the middle of the sea we can never drown.
The belief in Almighty can never keep us down.
Always pray to Almighty can that everyone is blessed.
Even if nature wrath happens, no one’s life is messed.
Sahildeep Singh Raina
CHILDHOOD
“The childhood never leaves.”
It lingers in what we see,
in voices we still hear,
in strangers we feel we’ve known before.
Captured once on cardboard—
Smiling faces, cautioning, “Is it me?”
Because that’s what we’ve become:
happy faces, hiding countless facades.
The scent of rain.
The way we danced in it.
Messy, yet perfect.
At that time, we were we.
Unburdened by life.
Held by many.
Loved by more.
But now, we turn—
and all we see is
the difference.
Sanjogita Sharma
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