Yes, my love The heart wept for real, Yes,for real the glimpses of salty moisture Felt like an arrow through it As the moisture precipitated to a drop It Screamed in silent dying agony Sorry love It could not see the next drop Cos it was dead already.
Twenty years ago, a letter from a village in Himachal Pradesh, arrived at the Ministry of Defence. The writer was a school teacher and his request was as follows.
He asked, "If possible, could my wife and I be granted the permission to see the place where our only son died a heroic death in the Kargil war, on the day of his first death, his memorial day, on 07/07/2000? It's okay if you can't., if It is against national security, in which case I will withdraw my application".
The Department Officer who read the letter, said, "It does not matter what the cost of their visit is, I will pay it from my salary, if the department is unwilling to and I will bring the teacher and his wife to the place where their only boy died and he issued an order.
On the remembrance day of the deceased hero., the elderly couple were brought to the ridge with due respect. When he was taken to the place where his son died, everyone on duty stood erect and saluted. But one soldier, handed him a bunch of flowers, bowed and touched his feet and wiped his eyes and saluted.
The teacher said, "You're an officer. Why do you touch my feet?" "Well, sir", said the soldier "I'm the only one here who was with your son and the only one here who saw your son's heroism on the field. The Pakistanis were shooting hundreds of bullets per minute with their H.M.G. Five of us advanced to a distance of thirty feet and we were hiding behind a rock.
I said, 'Sir, I am going for the 'Death Charge'. I am going to take their Bullets and run to their bunker and throw the grenade. After that you all can capture their bunker! I was about to run towards their bunker but your son said, "Are you crazy? You have a wife and children. I'm still unmarried, I'll go." Do the Death Charge and You Do the Covering' and without hesitating, he snatched the grenade from me and ran into the death charge.
Bullets fell like rain from the Pakistani H.M.G. Your son dodged them, reached the Pakistani bunker, took the pin out of the grenade and threw it right into the bunker, sending thirteen Pakistanis to their death. Their assault was over and the area came under our control. I lifted your son's body, sir. He had forty-two bullets in him. I lifted his head in my hands and with his last breath he said, "Jai Hind!"
I asked the superior to give the permission to bring his coffin to your village but he refused.
Though I never had the privilege of putting these flowers at his feet, I have the privilege of putting them at your, sir."
The teacher's wife was crying softly into the corner of her pallu but the teacher didn't cry.
he teacher said., "I bought a shirt for my son to wear when he came on leave but he never came home and he never will. So I brought it to put it where he died. Why dont you take it and wear it for him, beta?"
The Kargil hero's is Captain Vikram Batra. His father : Girdhari Lal Batra and his mother: Kamal Kanta.