In The Calm, Sacred, Divine Peace

In The Calm, Sacred, Divine Peace Of The
Himalayan Valleys, Suddenly A Bullet
Round Coomes From The Other Wise Round
Comes Into Flash, Thrilling And Chilling
Thunders Of Bullets. Where No Blade Of
Grass Has The Courage To Take Birth,
The Enemy Of The Other Side Yields
The Crops Of Bullets, Guns And Cartriges.
No Icy Hands Of Death To Lay On’
The Brave Indian Chest,
No No Conwardly Stabbing Of The
Knife In The Back Of Indian Trust
No Back Attack To Dampen The Spirit
Of Indian Crops.
No Flowers But “Bouquest” Of Friendship
Go Across The Border
Hands Of Humanity, Brotherhood Of
Peace Go Across, But…..
But Are The Bullets Striking The White
Snow-Clad Peaks, Burning Then
Red With The Patriotic Blood Of The
Indian Braves
The Flowers Return Back And Turn
To Be The Flowers On The Indian Graves,
The Friendship Hands Return With
The Inhuman Disesection Of The Capture
Indian Security Soldiers.
They, The Cruels Putting On Their
(Dis)honest Words On Altar
No Inhumanities, Crucities, Evils To Alter,
The Paradise Of Beautiful Lakes,
Meadows
Colourful Flora And Fauna And The
Innocents Turn To Ashes.
These Barbaric Blood Baths Must Be Stopped
No Fires To “Cease” No Bridges Of
Friendship To Build
Both The Bridges And Teh Friendship
Are Bomed Down In Turn
Turn Those Ashes Into Explosives,
Flowers Into Miseries
Now No Innocents To Die, No Infants
Turning Orphans, No Brace-Chests To Strike On….

Let’s All Knock The Doors Of God
For The Peaceful India With Its Paradise Gaining Back
All Its Old Beauty And Sanctity Of The “Lord”

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