Below The Grass

With ongoing war, Raghu, A new lad, folded himself inside the tent and muffled some godly chants leaning into the grass. "Are you okay?" came a croaky voice behind him. It was his commando. "Yes, sir!" he said. "Pluck one grass", his commando ordered. Confused Raghu, plucked one from the crust without questioning his master. "Why you chose this one, particularly?" The commando asked. "I don't know" Raghu replied. "Because it's weak and helpless, you could have hesitated for a while if I would have asked you to pluck a thorny plant" he added. "Yes, master!" Raghu said. "Don't be a grass, be a thorn in war", the commando said. He didn't understand his words that time, But when the war was over, the leftovers were only thorns and not grasses anymore. Raghu exchanged a look with his commando that had no words but thousand lessons.

Years later, Raghu plucked the grasses, leaving out the thorns, out of his father cum commando's grave making sure he still sleeps only with the thorns as a true warrior.