Letter Of Soldier

 I live in distant land. My mother must have been sad without me. I am fine in the grave free from any kinds of greed, suffering, and tears. I am resting at peace all the times-night and day. My body that was once very handsome and strong has been changing into dust and row I have only the bones, to discuss upon my ruined destiny. I do clearly remember the time of the early morning when the time itself was sad, the atmosphere was sad, all were sad, when I had to bid farewell to all the family people and others. The whole place is impatient and dreadful. Even my dog chintu was sad, crying in pain and waging its tail nervously since he had guessed that this separation was to last forever. He guessed my death and that I would never come back. I remember my mother’s eyes were filled with tears. She pressed her lips against my lips. She had blessed me in the breathing voice-“to be always brave.” I had experienced the firings and taken them easily. I had been a hero all the time at war fronts. Finally, a bullet came and killed me to be lying down in the grave, a world of dream and reality, forever. I can see my birth land where history is filled up with pieces of lies and hypocrisy. With lies and hypocrisy, my birth land sent me to the battlefields. After being killed at the war front, now I am buried in the grave. I am in the grave yard where all friends and enemies those who killed me and other also those who were killed by us. All dead bodies of friends and enemies were lying in the lands, having everything common, living in harmony and with the sense of true brotherhood. These dead people are the lost citizens of the world. After death they do not have the identity of nationality. Dear mother don’t weep for me because my war is over. I don’t have risk of gunshot, shells and do not need to risk my khukuri or advance through the war fronts, shouting frightening words “Ayo Gorkhali”. This was the phrase by which by which me and my warring friends scared our enemies to death. However the same chant killed us, too. Wars kill warriors in both sides. Death does not hold warriors in prison. Soldiers are merely small things and they are easily sacrificed. Army generals, who are slow, officials and fat by corruption, lies and hypocrisy, are responsible for their death. These generals robbed all of the dreams, youth and life of the soldier for the sake of medals that they receive from the seniors though they are not at war fronts, and soldiers are sacrifices for those medals .I really feel regression, very sorry, for being unable during his life to pay back for the milk that I received from my mother. I am sorry that I could not do anything for you, motherland, because I died for others, for other nations, and there is no glory in such war. Forgive me and don’t weep for me anymore. Rather you should think and worry for those living people, living warriors, who are in the wars, at the war fronts, again for those living people, living warriors, who are in the wars, at the war fronts, again for innocent sacrifice. These warriors are to be feared about.