A poem I had written during the Kargil war has become relevant again with what is happening….
THE MIDDAY CANDLE
By
Raj Kadyan
It aroused neither curiosity nor intrigue
When you saw him, in his crumpled fatigue
On railway platforms, slurping his tea
Hurriedly from his saucer, and then flee
Shouldering his bag, stomping his feet
To occupy his rum-reserved seat.
Seldom in your mind a moment you spared
Even knowing he was ill paid and uncared.
Then one day guns at the border boomed
Suddenly on your TV screen he loomed
Humping his load, climbing metre by metre A
Along with Jaswant, Jailal, Parvez and Peter
A silent symbol of India, a true secularist
He marched ahead to keep a tryst.
Cold and wet, poorly garbed
Unmindful, his face gritty and barbed
Never the one to question or ask
With a single focus — do the task.
He followed his leader in face of fire
And you suddenly began to admire
His traits of courage, loyalty, sacrifice
His willingness to pay the highest price.
Fighting and falling, and rising again
Forth he moved, oblivion to pain.
Some of him was dead, some was maimed
While your country’s honour he reclaimed.
As the coffins arrived, you filled the air
With slogans and promises for the heir.
But a few lunations later, I and you
We all began to ask, “Soldier who?”
We think of him no more than we may Of a candle at midday.
