I wore my frilly frock,embellished with stones bright
Tying my hair into a pigtail
I came out of my room like a strong gale


'Father!' I called out loud,
Again and again with a merry voice
I lacked patience and many other virtues
But all of it was unseen
For that day was my birthday

Mother came rushing to me
Held me against her *****
In a creaking voice she said to me..
'Ssh,my child.
He is out
He is out to make our country proud'.


I was 11, a child lost in her own dreams
of colors, dolls and things pretty
Never did I understand my mother's message
For I was a child void of the world of war
of blood and death.

The radio played,
My mother cried.

'What is happening?'
I thought.
The surroundings sulked in gloom
I shook my mother's arm
Tears gushing down her face,she looked at me

'General Smith , died a martyr..'
The radio played
'..served his country till his last breath'
it went on playing.

My world of pretty things bright
was no more bright
For the pall of darkness battled and won over all things nice.

Everything echoed in my ears
My father's name was being played over and over again.
They were singing praises of my father
'He was out to make our country proud' they said.

He finally came
Draped in a white sheet
He was there,sleeping.
Many faces unknown crowded my home
Cried they on the occasion of my birthday.

I went up to him and cried
'Wake up Father, its my Birthday.'
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
For he lay there silent,eyes closed.

'Oh' I muttered
and ran down the hallway
Shutting the doors behind me
I buried myself on the pillow
Praying to God for everything to be a nightmare
I wished for nothing but to fall asleep forever.

My world of pretty things bright
was no more bright
For the pall of darkness battled and won over all things nice.

I was 11 and innocent.
A stranger to the world of war,blood and death.