O my dear country men,
With a heavy mind and eyes swollen,
Recall the sacrifices of those who died,
Fighting for us with unfriendly tides.
When the mightly Himalayas bled,
When our freedom was challenged,
Till the last breadth they fought,
Till the last body had a shot,
And when they fell to race to freedom,
Their bayonets softened to carry their heads
They then slept on them, those brave souls,
Those mighty soldiers the ultimate guardians.
When India was lit up with Deewali lights,
They played with gory colors at different heights,
When we relaxed in our abodes,
They were dodging bullets from our foes.
From different parts, hearts and faiths,
They marched toward one common goal,
Every drop that bled was red and Indian,
Of a brave soldier shouting, singing, Vande Mataram.
Dipped in blood, courage and full of youth,
Each man and gun killed at least half a score,
Before falling and saying goodbye to all,
Uttering so many things in their muted fall.
"The duty is done now we have to go" they said,
"May you be happy oh my beloved countrymen" they bled,
And then those fortunate souls left,
Leaving behind stories about lives well spent.
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