Indian Singh

Hiding in the trench in the French sand,
Indian Singh fights like a British soldier.
It seems it is the ending of the universe.
Dark curls of smoke rise up - cradles are
shattered, and buildings collapsed. Roar
 of the war planes gobble all the shrieks
by the mothers and their mothers in a jiff.
Wounds play a sad raga on the strings in
the throats of some fallen military men.
 
Indian Singh seeks his sweet lady among
the golden corns in a Punjabi wheat field
during the horrible silent interval. A red
salwar kameez flutters in the day dream.
A sudden roar makes him raise his rifle.
Though he is Britain’s adopted son, he
fights for his new mother with true love.
 
She opens with a smile the creaking gate
to the ecstasy of reunion- soon this smile
is scattered like a phial in an explosion.
 
She waited for him with the same verve
for years and years in vain, until the earth
worms claimed her wrinkled body one day.
 
Thousands of memorial stones were erupted
here and there after the First World War, but
not a single stone remains to honor his valor.