THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER.

Do you see him riding his cycle,
Sometimes through the rain?
Or sitting on his tin- luggage,
Waiting patiently for a train?

Do you see his picture in the papers,
In sepia or black and white?
Or lost behind paparazzi haze,
On TV news late night?

Do you care to share a greeting,
When he goes marching past?
Don’t lose that chance today,
Lest tomorrow be his last.

For you will never see him,
Clad in camouflage olive green,
Crawling grim and stealthily,
Through enemy lines unseen.

Nor see him through rain or shine,
In desert, jungle or valley.
Risking his life to keep borders safe,
So those inside live free.

His is the hand that picks you up,
From flood, quake or disease.
Always by his peoples side,
Be it in war or peace.

He is the backbone of our freedom,
Both weapon and human shield.
Ready to die for flag and faith,
Never betray, never yield.

His obedience is supreme,
His valour the stuff of legend.
His creed follow their officers,
Even unto their end.

Never questioning the outcome,
Always striving to excel.
This is the spirit of our troops,
That has served our nation well.

So when again you pass him by,
On cycle, station or street,
Go up to him and shake his hand,
Or at least nod, smile or greet.

For everyday of freedom spent,
We owe it to this man.
Forever should we all salute,
Our brave Indian jawan.