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In my ordeal of being the Army wife,
In my Agony about his being safe,
In my battles fought alone everyday ,
In my regrets of years, months, days, festivals, passing by with time alone,
In my silent nights spend crying into my pillow,
In my annouance of having to share him with all on his return,
In my moments of glory gathering the applauds for being the Brave Army Wife,
I forgot the absoultely quiet, mature, silent, pain of the Brave Daughter of my Soldier.
From when she was born ,
She without having been tought ,
Without any experience,
Without having been mentored,
Started expecting the presence ,
Of the most imporyant Man in her life,
As a rarity.
As she grew,
She went out into the world,
At school she met friends,
Who had endless stories about their dads,
Holidays with dad,
Sunday lunches with dads,
Midnight cuddles of those strong arms.
She saw fathers at the PTM,
She learnt when the school circular says parents ,
It is mom and Dad,
When report cards and other documents want signatures,
They read Father and mother seperately ,
But in all her documents,
There was only one signature,
All her PTM it was only the mother,
Her friends had questions,
She had no answers.
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She wanted to ask her mother,
But when she saw the mothers battles,
She refrained,
She went silent.
She saw the wet pillow of her mother each morning,
And hid her wet pillow.
She also,
At times,
Wanted to shout,
Wanted to yell,
Wanted to scream,
At the father and the mother,
So many complaints,
So many comparisons from the stories of her friends,
So many dreams ,
She too wanted to hold the strong hand,
And walk with the pride,
Of being a loved and pampered daughter,
Into parks and movies and restaurants,
She too wanted to show off the man in her life,
But she did not say a word,
As she realized ,
At a tender age,
That she was not just a daughter,
She was the Soldiers Brave daughter
All these years,
I did not see this silent acceptance,
I assumed ,
As long as her needs are met,
Why would she complaint .
A few days back,
I heard her,
Tell her friend,
Her Man was not away a little beyond 24 hours and 365 days,
For money,
It was for the honour of the tricolour.
She knew it all since she was born,
But I was too busy,
Reading out my agony,
My sacrifices,
I was too busy,
Wetting my pillow.
Today as I watched her silently,
Still tender,
At 12 years,
I realised,
Pain doesnt always speak,
Agony doesnt always moisen the eyes,
Fear doesnt always wet the pillow,
And my brave girl ,
gave up all this,
Not for herself,
But for me,
She let me steal the thunder,
Of being the Army Wife,
And all this ever since she was born
She is our daughter,
She is the real pride of the soldier,
She is his real strength,
She is the reason ,
I survived my agony.
And I realised all this today,
As she heard me ,
Yet again ,
Weep my agony,
And she walked up to me,
Wiped my tears,
Embraced me,
And said
" My father is a Soldier,
The Nation may not care for his sacrifices,
But that doesnt matter,
Because he also doesnt care about himself.
The tricolour flies high,
And sways safely,
And, Mom,
I Understand,
He is my pride,
And I carry my pride on my shoulder"
She left me numb,
She left me speechless,
She left me feeling so small,
But, She left me feeling so proud.
She,
My Daughter,
A Soldiers Brave Daughter
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