In the Face of Love

On that particular day, I always remember, That nineteen ninety-nine 25th December, Midst my lone celebration there arose, A certain scent like that of a rose, I just fell silent when all of a sudden, Entered a lady, as though for long hidden, With a message of Christmas; she was none, But the District Collector of the time; whose son, Serving in the army; on such a Christmas day died, Fighting against the enemies, who had tired, To encroach on the settlement tents, And kill and loot the men put up in segments, My son got killed - the collector said crying, He had said, it seems when he was painfully dying, That a doctor tried to save his life, And undertook for this purpose great strife, Later, when I enquired, for a long, I found, That it was you who strived for him, duty-bound, This is why I have come over here to meet you tonight, On this great day, when Jesus who did fight, For the sake of humanity who lived in darkness, Lived and died as an ordinary man of starkness… She wished me Merry Christmas and shared my Christmas meal, Though she was not, by religion, a Christian, I could feel, Grace and mercy of Jesus overflowing in her, That, like a revolution, her heart and mind did stir, Thanking me again and again, she slowly moved, As a beam of moon midst, clouds of darkness grooved, I stood silent, thinking of that gentle army man, Who breathed his last on my lap and ended his life span, I could not just block the teardrops that brim-filled, And rolled down as though many duties were fulfilled...!!!