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That night amidst cries, clamours, din, 
When coffin scandal headlines claimed, 
We shuddered— such was stench of sin, 
Those in snow felt ash grey, ashamed, 

In sullied caskets feeling ill, 
But lay still, stunned, shocked by surprise 
Their valour frost, vain felt their will, 
Frost bitten, battered, somewhat wise, 

Those done to death but not wood-bound, 
Peered out from their snow-covered face, 
Shocked, surprised, by news snow-drowned, 
Would they ever regain lost grace?

Pondering on greed of a man, 
Of those on a decision-making chair,  
To what lowly depth fall they can,  
The stink was felt in frozen air.   

Yet, such things go on from times old,  
Let us not lose our well-earned rest, 
Why worry on what we’ve no hold, 
We’ve duly done our honest best. 

Let’s lose not our well-deserved sleep, 
None can one’s dark taints sanguine paint, 
Let Judgment Day come, said a saint, 
They’ll a deserved karmic crop reap. 

But we still wondered deep within: 
If those wanton souls saner be, 
Wrapped in a life of utter sin, 
If their sordid deeds ever see. 

There still lingered a nagging doubt, 
Our sacrifice would go in vain, 
The truth if ever would come out,   
That, culprits might innocence feign. 

Whilst we wondered as never ere, 
Whilst the clamours carried on still, 
As frozen hearts could no more bear, 
Still colder felt the nightly chill.  
_____________________________________
Happenings | 06.08.2008, revised July 2022| 

Poet’s note: A disgrace called ‘Coffin Scandal' in the purchase of coffins for dead soldiers, it claimed headlines in newspapers for a long time. This poem takes off from it and depicts an imaginary dialogue between the departed souls of dead soldiers (it was the war with Pakistan in snowy wilderness of Ladakh) and the sentinels of life after death: Was after all their sacrifice in vain?
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