WOUNDS OF HONOUR

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WOUNDS OF HONOUR



Rejected by his own mother,
Away from his home
Floating he went away
To the lands, unknown.
Was luckily picked by the charioteer
And sheltered as his own
Bullied by his own brothers
Shunned by master Dron
But his passion and spree
Couldn't hide his fame
He was trained by the lord of lords
Parshuram was his name.
Taught the spirits of archery
Taught the language of bows
More accurate than his brother he was
His nerves were his arrows.
He served, he cared 
Never feared bearing pain
But every time he was insulted
His compassion went in vain.
But never did he step back 
Even in the worst times
Silently he battled along
Against the odds and the crimes.
Luckily he got a friend
A person to honor his skills
But the friend he made was of the dark side
Darker were his deeds.
He was used by his friend
To fuel his friend's profits
But securing his friend's safety 
Was his only habit.
Thus years rolled out
Scenarios changed,
But the warrior was still at war
To make his friend the most powerful
He went battling so far
He was a good counsel but mistrusted by his friend
His advice had no score
All his ideas of ethics and love
Were simply laughed at and ignored.
And thus arrived the day of the final war
A war between evil and good
His esteemed friend and his uncouth group
Were planning under the hood
But their opponents had a lord, the one who could end all games
The chess board and the chess,
Tried to convince him to join their side
And fight for truth and grace.
But promises were his heart and soul
A promise that he made to his friend
Restricted him to leave
And play from the fair side of the game
Life indeed is cruel at times
So cruel that lives don't matter
The sufferance starts with the occurrence of battle
All that was decorated got scattered
And that too in such a battle, 
Where the same blood fight against each other
Nobody else gets as hurt as
Their common old mother.
But the war was inevitable
And to fight it like a brave
He stepped on his charriot
In his glory and rage.
The war lasted so long
With heroes and legends dying
Leaving behind their trail of deeds
And several faces crying
And at last comes his turn
To receive his freedom.
From the world of darkness
Into the abode of wisdom.
But his power and his karma
Were so true and great, 
That even death once felt
From him, it is in debt
A debt that perhaps many were
From the demons to the Gods
That none could find a spot so black
In his purest heart so broad.
And his skills at war overpowered all
That impossible was to kill
Such a brave warrior from the front
And hence his enemies did,
A cheating so harsh, so harsh on him
That half his life was gone
When Indra came and asked his shield
The holy shield with which he was born
The invincible thing was now departed from him
And so willingly he gave up his bliss
That perhaps anyone in the world before and after
Could do with all their deed.
But with his half life and a powerful bow
He tried his last to gain,
But was shot a shower of arrows by his brother
While he was trying in vain
To free his chariot's wheel that got stuck in mud
And to revive back to war
But perhaps this was his last lost attempt
And then he was adorned with scars.
Wounded the hero fell on the ground
And with that fell his flag
But truth was revealed to the people in war
Shocking and taking aback
His brothers recognized him and also his worth
The greatest warrior is no more
Just breathing away his few last breaths
Before he leaves the shore
One by one he was visited by legends,
His teachers, his mother and kingsmen
And at last the Lord came himself 
To talk to the departing fame
He asked, "Why did you bear such pains,
When you had options to be free?"
Smiling the warrior replied to him
"This was but my spree.
To put and end to baneful walk
To return to my father, the Sun.
I just served my duties Oh lord
And nothing higher did I want.
The wounds that you see are the keys of the locks
The locks that bound me in chains
And snatched my life, my respect and my love
All the tortures now come to an end.
And off I go leaving my corpse
And flying high the Dharma's banner.
What Karna bears are not mere wounds
These are my WOUNDS OF HONOUR."


--- Lucifer Khusrao











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