Fully dressed, I lay on my bed, putting off the inevitable for a few more moments. Wishing that I could stay here all day, with nothing to look forward to, except sipping a drink and reading the morning paper. Wishing, that I didn’t have to fight again. Wishing I could live in peace. But fate sometimes has a habit of making your life go around in loops, repeating the same pattern. I had always known that this day would come. That the time for battle would come again, someday. But I wish it was another day, how I wish that. I reluctantly got up and left the room. My family waited downstairs anxiously. I forced a smile. My mother’s tense face cracked for a second, then resumed its previous morose expression. ‘You’ll be all right son’, my dad clapped my back and said. I stood still for the customary prayer before I left. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on the prayer my parents were chanting. But my heart beat was too loud to let me hear the whispered words. I don’t want to go, I thought. I’m not going. Another voice in my head sighed ‘but of course you will’. I crossed myself with a sad smile.
I thought of my friends, my brothers in arms, at this moment all of them would be saying tense good byes at their respective homes, preparing for the greatest battle yet. Some still can’t believe it. Some had even crossed the seas, thinking that they had left it all behind. Yet, a few knew it was just a matter of time, that we would have to go back. How many will make it today? I wondered. How many will fall? I closed my eyes emotionally, then re-opened them angrily, hardened by renewed conviction to the cause.
The enemy has thrown the challenge at us. The time and place had been fixed. We will not tremble. We will meet them in battle, no matter what. The war isn’t over yet. I felt the familiar smirk coming back to my lips. I felt defiance course through every fibre of my body. The war aint over yet.
I left the house without looking back, with my chest thrown out and my head held high. I held the tricolour proudly up to my chest. This is what I’m fighting for ….. Green- for 3rd semester, Yellow- for 4th, Magenta- for 5th. We will do whatever it takes. We’ll reload our calculators; draw our pens, some of us-drafters. We will sip bitter black coffee late into the night. Whatever it costs, we will claim what should be ours by right- our B.tech degrees.
Go tell the patrons of Mambalathu, that it is time to stock up again. Send messengers to the good people of maliyekadave, tell them it is time to relive the days of glory. As the eleventh month dawns on Saint Gits College of Engineering, look to the eastern gates. Listen, for the cacophony of bike horns and the rising boom’s of car woofers. When the winter sun shines through the morning mist, on the 6th day….the Kings shall return….
Hasta la Victoria Siempre! – Ever Onward to Victory!
I thought of my friends, my brothers in arms, at this moment all of them would be saying tense good byes at their respective homes, preparing for the greatest battle yet. Some still can’t believe it. Some had even crossed the seas, thinking that they had left it all behind. Yet, a few knew it was just a matter of time, that we would have to go back. How many will make it today? I wondered. How many will fall? I closed my eyes emotionally, then re-opened them angrily, hardened by renewed conviction to the cause.
The enemy has thrown the challenge at us. The time and place had been fixed. We will not tremble. We will meet them in battle, no matter what. The war isn’t over yet. I felt the familiar smirk coming back to my lips. I felt defiance course through every fibre of my body. The war aint over yet.
I left the house without looking back, with my chest thrown out and my head held high. I held the tricolour proudly up to my chest. This is what I’m fighting for ….. Green- for 3rd semester, Yellow- for 4th, Magenta- for 5th. We will do whatever it takes. We’ll reload our calculators; draw our pens, some of us-drafters. We will sip bitter black coffee late into the night. Whatever it costs, we will claim what should be ours by right- our B.tech degrees.
Go tell the patrons of Mambalathu, that it is time to stock up again. Send messengers to the good people of maliyekadave, tell them it is time to relive the days of glory. As the eleventh month dawns on Saint Gits College of Engineering, look to the eastern gates. Listen, for the cacophony of bike horns and the rising boom’s of car woofers. When the winter sun shines through the morning mist, on the 6th day….the Kings shall return….
Hasta la Victoria Siempre! – Ever Onward to Victory!
