A platoon of Pakistan army shouldering the coffins of martyrs, wrapped in green flag, was marching ahead. The hissing of the cold winds blowing apace was mystifying the atmosphere. When a gust of air touched the coffins, the spell casting aroma took everyone’s fancy. Everyone started extolling the sacrifice of martyrs. Their feats had filled the people with a whole new wave of patriotism. The martyrs had watered the tree of freedom with their blood, and every single corner of the homeland was turned green.
The platoon halted upon reaching the middle of the ground. They placed the coffins down with the same affection and care as a mother would place her infant in a cradle. They adorned the coffins with their medals and uniforms and took positions beside the coffins.
The rays of sun, which had been enshrouded by the itinerant cloud chunks, took their opportunity and gleamed onto the medals of Major Sahab in a way that the shine literally blinded the eyes of everyone out there.
The funeral rituals were performed. An agile platoon of Pakistan Army gave them the tribute they deserved and the bodies were sent to their natal areas.
I will protect my land with the edge of the sword So my people will know that I am the man The homes of the martyrs were also lightened. A subtle fragrance was wafting through the entire village. Has anyone tried to show empathy towards a mother who awaits the corpse of this son? The same mother for whom he used to bring a shawl, today he has brought a green flag.
Upon donning it her joy will know no bounds. Her eyes were about to glisten with tears, but thinking that his proud son might deem it
something else, she stifles her sobs and stop her tears, possibly saving them for some better occasion.
The sister of Captain Sahab is also impatient to see his brother. Captain Sahab always used to bring ‘choriyaan’ for her. Today, her
brother didn’t bring any. He only brought rattling medals and laurels. Did anyone see the daughter of this Lieutenant who is looking
for her shoes in a hurry. She wants to put them on quickly. She remembers that whenever her papa came he always said ‘Guriya tyar
hojao, hamain ghomnay jana hai’ (Princess, get ready. We are going out to revel). Often were her shoes misplaced, and her papa had to
wait. Today she didn’t want to make her Papa wait.
This was the world of this little angel. Had lieutenant sahib wished, no one could have dared to stop him from mellowing out in his own
beautiful world, but he was the son of this nation. He sacrificed his own world, but saved the worlds of many little angels.
Who can forget about our soldiers who embraced martyrdom in Siachen. Every single one of those lions has set a paradigm for this world. Yes, they are our martyrs; our proud martyrs! Alive nations never forget their martyrs. It is time to pay them tribute. Pakistan Army is lucky to have such audacious and brave souls. A soldier, upon wearing the uniform, pledges to merge his individual interests in the national interests. These sons are aware of the conspiracies against our homeland. They have never disappointed us in the past and will never do so in the future. They are battling it out against all odds to ensure our survival. IN SHAA ALLAH, their blood will bear fruit and Pakistan will be liberated from the iniquities of terrorism, extremism and prejudice. Pakistan Zindabaad, Pakistan Army Paindbaad!