Like a dream catcher that keeps the nightmares away while you peacefully dream
He forgoes sleep, one too many nights.
You swoon over and idolise the heroes on screen who pout and pose
But seldom acknowledge the one who really fights.
Amongst the cheers and din of festivals you celebrate with friends and family
Is the silence of the loneliness he braves.
The politicians stand up to criticize, to deliver false hopes, garner praise and argue endlessly
While he takes no credit for lives he saves.
When disaster looms its head or things go out of control, you summon him
He happily obliges when duty calls.
But the torch bearers of human rights label him a criminal for offences unproved
Where are they when he falls?
He faces inhuman conditions, extreme weather, inhospitable terrain and hostile citizens too
But never does give in.
The safety of the country first, his men next and his own self come last in priority always
Is what he believes in.
The traffic stops for netaji, the world falls at the feet of babus and even cops claim free lunches
He does not even get his pension.
While the world is burning and governments are turning, over violent protests
He fasts and expects redemption.
When he comes home wrapped in the tri-colour, the saffron one shines brighter
Very few still spare a thought.
His family grieves, yet stands proud and tall, when his daughter salutes the man
and the wars he fought.
He does the thankless job with pride in his heart and a smile on his lips till the last breath
Must be insane, I guess.
He cannot be crafted out of what you and me were, we are too wise to sacrifice.
Must be made of greatness.