Empty rocked my cradle, O Lord!!!
I cried out to thee for help,
My heart knew no happiness nor my mind any bliss,
You held my hand and bore me a son,
My bosom leapt of joy; my soul had made its peace.
He grew up to be a strapping lad and even when he was three,
He played rough, would tumble and fall,
Cuts and bruises were a common sight, ever so often, a scraped knee.
Yet through his tears he’d smile and say,
“A brave, strong man like dad, I’ll grow up to be.”
Time flew by and he came of age,
He studied hard, always playing harder,
Broke a few hearts, my ever ‘Mr. Popular’,
And when time came to choose a career,
My heart was aflutter; but he without even batting an eye,
Knew an Army man he’d be for all of his life.
D-Day dawned, early and bright,
In his olives, out of those hallowed portals, he marched with pride.
What a glorious moment! Not a dry eye in sight,
Parents, siblings, mates; hugs, kisses, cheers and good-byes,
Pacing through the crowd, frantically looking for me, came my ‘little’-big boy.
Stars on his shoulders; stars in his eyes.
From up in heaven his father watched as many a laurel he did achieve,
Hearty congratulations came our way; medals adorned his broad chest.
Yet every time he went afar, along her borders, defending our motherland,
Not to dread, try as I might, a mother’s heart-mine, knew no rest.
Life for me had more in store, God had played his hand,
Once again, one fateful day, a phone call put my faith to the test.
“He soldiered on to the very end”, they said,
Fought a nasty bunch, killed many, wounded a few.
Like father-like son, just wouldn’t give up, until a bullet found his head.
There he lay, now silent and still, amid the bullets still flying wild,
One among a chosen few, India’s finest and my only child.
Empty rocks my cradle again, O Lord!!!
For joy and pride, yes, that I did gain,
But time, it never seems enough to numb the pain.
Yet if ever, O Lord, the choice was mine,
A hundred sons like him; I’d proudly bear, time and time again.