A 13-Year-Old’s Tribute to Indian Soldiers

I have penned an emotional tribute to the Indian soldiers in the wake of the Pulwama terror attack.

Thank you soldiers!

(Photo: Shruti Mathur/The Quint)

Video Editor: Deepthi Ramdas

Today, I’m going to narrate a story about a son who is posted at the border in Kashmir’s Poonch area. In the evening at 7, his mother calls him up. The soldier does not answer his mother’s call because he is busy serving his country.

Around this time, news breaks out about the cross-firing between India and Pakistan. On hearing this news, the mother calls up her son and again, he doesn’t take her call.

Finally, after seven days, the son answers her call. His mother asks him, “Son, what are you doing? Why didn’t you take my call?” The son replies, “There is tension around here. I’m standing tall at the snow-clad mountains. I will not let any bullet touch our motherland. I’m bravely fighting against the enemy – a bullet in response to a bullet. My mother, I’ll place the Tiranga (Tricolour) across the enemy’s line. If not, I promise you, I’ll return wrapped in the Trianga.”

Now, the son asks his mother, “How are you? How are my wife and kid?”

The mother responds, “Please come to meet us. I’m not keeping well. I’m your mother. That’s all I want to tell you. My daughter-in-law sleeps with your photo under her pillow. It’s been months since she has seen you. She keeps crying for you. Your child, who cannot speak yet, yells, ‘Papa, papa’.”

The son replies, “You are my mother. Our country is everyone’s mother. I am ready to sacrifice my life for my motherland. India is in danger. There are far too many terrorists. We are here so that we could face the bullets and not our motherland. There would have been no wars. This is all politically driven and because of speeches delivered by politicians.”

The mother realises that her son will not listen to her, and she keeps the phone down. After a few days, her son returns home, wrapped in Tiranga. The mother says, “He was strong and loved his country. He was not just a soldier but also a son of a Singh. His four-month-old son, who never sat on his father’s lap, is now seeing his father lying on a funeral pyre. My daughter-in-law is all alone now. ‘Make my son a soldier,’ these words seem to echo through the smoke coming out of the pyre.”