Bum-la stands
— Miranda Pertin(APCS),
Assistant Director, Department of CA, Naharlagun.
Alighting from the car on rocky dusty ground,
set my feet down.
With eager heart and hurried steps,
to peek at the dragon red,
to stroke its tail that around here curved.
With a deep breath took in the view ,
the surroundings n mountains at the pass.
What if the dragon came crawling in?
Where will I go and where would we live?
My fearful thoughts buried momentarily,
when came face to face with SubedarHeera at this last station.
The blue green eyes and tall frame of thisHaryanvi,
now guard Bumla bastion.
He with head held high and voice unwavered,
narrated the tale of a brave sonof soil ,
and of the gruesome battle in 1962 fought.
From mother’s heart, whereSutlej, Ravi and Beas flow,
here in the land of rising sun,
for blessed children who play on mother’s palm,
a lion from Punjab, fought till his breath last,
and his life here laid.
Moved by the narration and the great sacrifice,
I kissed the ground his blood soaked,
my eyes wet, some drops escaped.
When tears ground touched, the place turned red,my eyes dimmed blind,
Voice of the narrator declined and alonestood I.
Then a voice, love and valour filled
Why do you cry ?: enquired.
I cry for the love shown n sacrifice here made: I replied.
Oh! Is that so, then don’t cry : with a loving laughter the voice said.
Sacrifice was mine to make.
My blood I shed without thinking twice.
Protecting mother land my dharm,
fighting trespassers my karm.
When I don’t cry why should you?
I thought you cry because in vain was my sacrifice,
that after I was slain,
Bum-la too fallen, behind enemylines.
Or, that there is no love in the hearts of my countrymen.
That enemy not harms but brothers and sisters,
Deceives and cheats, kills and corrupts.
That my children lead a happy life,
in a country where progress and peace alive,
was the dream this dying man saw.
So, now tell me how my countrymen live?
I kept quite, lost in thoughts, engrossed,
What must I tell, what must I not,
so I told what I too hoped .
Sir your sacrifice not waste,
If from Gujarat to Arunachal, Kashmir to Kanyakumari you walked,
It is a garden vibrant, happy like inparadise, bright , light,
If you meet a man, orchids and sherbet,attar and burfi he’d offer,
In borders you ‘ll see, sons and daughters strong, alert,
Weapons, ammunitions and aircraft most advanced,
light years ahead from tanks and rifles your hands held.
In the heart of the land, you’ll find leaders born ordinary man,
But humility, knowledge and experience enlightened,
Who speak truth with compassion ,
Truth not made a weapon of destruction, isolation,
Who are beings of superior heart, much wise then us mere mortals.
Where old, poor and special people cared,
homeless gathered and nurtured for,
the geniuses encouraged to break gravity barrier,
Where there is enough for all.
When in Arunachal you come,
Abundance every where like God’s blessing on a place special.
Our hearts set on progress and grace,
Walking ahead with light of self belief lit bright,
In similarities we one, our differences we accept and respect.
Sir you are right, I see no reason to cry.
I shall thank you not with the empty words of hypocrites,
but with acts ofbravery and loving kindness,
Not once, not twice but every day of my life.
And then the scarlet around declined and my vision regained,
Then heard SubedarHeera with passion say:this is how Bum-lacame to stand,
And “Jai Hind!”Westanding there togetherpraised.
Rocky mountains too echoed back:
Jai Hind… Jai Hind… Jai Hind…
