You come home with scars and pain Yet I know your heart never heals, With my most skillfully made balms; The scars of betrayal by your own You have learnt to live with and grown, What else could you do? Yet every time I promise to be brave Smile through your goodbye Trying to fight back my tears For the sake of a title that weighs While you ride away to the horizon I wish I were as brave as you. You say I give you the will to come home After every battle, big or small, You win or lose, it doesn't matter You will always be a hero in my eyes. But there are times when no news arrives For days, weeks, and months Some say the troops are moving Others report them losing Some say you went missing And all I can do is pray harder For I am not as brave as you, To pick up the sword and lose my honour; But am I as brave as you? You can rise from losses and win Yo...
He was struggling with his first letter to her. He had strangely written thousands of letters before. To his mother. To his seniors and subordinates. No letter left him in loss of words like it did today. What could be written to her? He had promised to write in an impulse. For when he was leaving for the battlefield the day after marrying her, maybe because he had seen it in her eyes. Tears held back. Worries concealed with a smile. And a sense of loneliness, A sense of getting lost in a palace full of unknown people. Truth be said, he didn't know what to tell his new bride. But what he did was to assure that he would write to her. For the first time, the sleepless night made him sit with a pen and paper and scribble. He had never paid heed to his words or letters before. They usually talked of politics and his well-being. But she... She was like a poem to his heart. Gentle, Deep. And mysterious. Reading between the lines was not easy when it came to her. He had wondered at times ...