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Let lightning strike me dead
At a young age and the world right ahead of them, they chose not to pursue the little pleasures it had to offer, rather chose to die so that other would live to taste what they didn’t. That proud moment when they walked into the parade with full military regalia, ready to obey without question, ready to die so that others could live. They became selfless and walked into another country to ensure that they too had something to call theirs, something everyone desires, freedom. Let lightning strike me dead, if i don’t mourn the man in the grave for me.
He was woken up by a hail of gunfire and explosives and instead of running into the bushes, walked straight to the battlefield and fought, filled with fear but puts others first. He came to fight for freedom, and that he knew was worth the bloodshed. He chose to die a man, under the hail of bullets others cower from. He chose to be dismembered by the explosives rather than run into the bushes and wait for rescue. The gallant man chose to die alongside those he called brothers, alongside those who harboured common interests, to kill the scourge of terrorism, to make sure children can wake up every morning and walk to school without fear, study the heroes in their history books. Though the drums may go silent after sometime, and the songs dry and wither from our tongues, know that we live today because you died yesterday. Let lightning strike me dead, if i don’t mourn the man in the grave for me. Rest in peace and godspeed. Rest in peace.

Say not in grief that she is no more, but say in thankfulness that she was. A death is not the extinguishing of a light, but the putting out of a lamp because dawn has come.
                                                    Rabiadranath Tagore

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