[A poem by Mr. T. S. S. Murty.]
[dropcap]W[/dropcap]ho is a soldier? Can anyone guess?
He is a common man like any one of us;
He has parents, siblings and a family,
Who wait for his calls and messages, fondly!
Yet, all his endeavours are for all,
Known or unknown, ready on call;
Marches forward with a single point agenda,
To protect us by standing in the country’s veranda!
Who is a monk? Can anyone guess?
He is an uncommon man unlike us;
He has left his parents, siblings and family,
Who don’t wait for his calls or messages, simply!
And, all his endeavours are mooted spiritually,
Unknown and unintelligible to us, even virtually;
Marches forward with a single point agenda,
To protect us by standing behind the country’s veranda!
But, when a soldier gets into his attire,
All his relationships will invariably retire;
Then, can we call a soldier a monk?
Yes. Why not? Call a soldier, also a monk?
