The Homecoming

She stood still in the verandah, hay and burnt brick house,

Yellow saree, vermillion on forehead, a typical Indian spouse.

Tears rolling, a trembling, pounding heart,

A week into marriage, and they had to part.

“Come home my love, come back again,

For I can no longer bear the pain.”

A battery-operated car, a laser gun, and toys many more,

His daddy gifted him, when he turned four.

A dancing bear, a bat-ball set, so much to play,

But the boy was sad, his daddy was far away.

“Come back daddy, come back again,

How long for you, will I cry in vain?”

Mud-walled house, middle of the village it stood,

Old parents, barely managing to have their food.

Roof was leaking, water dripping, nobody to take care,

They went several times near the door, but no one was there.

“Come back, my son, come back again,

Sacrificing your parents, what will you gain?”

A group of boys, laughter, frolic and fun,

Played football every evening, be it rain or sun.

But, joy these days were lacking in the time they spent,

Why not? Afterall their friend was absent.

“Come back dear friend, come back again,

Do you even remember the last time we played in the rain?”

Indeed they came home; they came back once more,

But this time, wrapped in tricolor and carried by four.

With due respect, their coffins were lowered onto the floor,

Many saluting soldiers stood there at the door.

And needless to say, the husband, the father, the son and the friend, were no more!!