Rudyard Kipling"
āWhen you're left wounded on Afganistan's plains and
the women come out to cut up what remains, Just roll to your rifle
and blow out your brains,
And go to your God like a soldierā
General Douglas MacArthur"
āWe are not retreating. We are advancing in another direction.ā
āIt is fatal to enter any war without the will to win it.ā āOld soldiers never die; they just fade away.
āThe soldier, above all other people, prays for peace, for he must suffer and be the deepest wounds and scars of war.ā
āMay God have mercy upon my enemies, because I won't .ā āThe object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his.
āNobody ever defended, there is only attack and attack and attack some more.
āIt is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived.
The Soldier stood and faced God
Which must always come to pass
He hoped his shoes were shining
Just as bright as his brass
"Step forward you Soldier,
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To My Church have you been true?"
"No, Lord, I guess I ain't
Because those of us who carry guns
Can't always be a saint."
I've had to work on Sundays
And at times my talk was tough,
And sometimes I've been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.
But, I never took a penny
That wasn't mine to keep.
Though I worked a lot of overtime
When the bills got just too steep,
The Soldier squared his shoulders and said
And I never passed a cry for help
Though at times I shook with fear,
And sometimes, God forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.
I know I don't deserve a place
Among the people here.
They never wanted me around
Except to calm their fears.
If you've a place for me here,
Lord, It needn't be so grand,
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand."
There was silence all around the throne
Where the saints had often trod
As the Soldier waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.
"Step forward now, you Soldier,
You've borne your burden well.
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell."
As Islamists run riots and take pride in violence against Hindus, elite Indian Muslims in India play the victim
Tuesday, April 19, 2022
The omnipresence of Muslim victimhood in the calamity of hate against Hindus
Sensationalism drives the economy of the Indian Left, whereas
intellectualisation of the Jihadi mindset thrives under it.
Under the
veil of secularism, a section of entitled Muslim commentators has gone
from being hardcore enablers of Islamists to rabid footsoldiers of
Islamism.
āHow can Hindus play a victim in a country where they are in a
majority?ā the ignorant comeback often paints a sordid picture of the
tragedies the Hindus go through if at all they gather the courage to
talk about it. The Hindus, devoid of the ānationalā consciousness of
existing as a civilization over millennia have been left as āglobalā
victims of hate, Islamic terrorism, liberal fundamentalism and leftist
radicalisation today.
The Hindu exercises in self-assertion are vilified ā be it the
ācommunalā saffron shawls against Burqas, which can be in turn be
normalised as essential religious practices. But when the society opens
itself for a greater discussion on the allowance of the Hijab, it is the
Hindutva activist Harsha who is hacked to death in Shimmogga.
While the Hindus have been robbed of their right to self-identity, it
turns out, they do not have the agency to be victims as well. At a time
when Hindu festivals are terrorised with instances of stone-pelting,
targeting and gun firing across the country, The Wire journalist Arfa
Khanum Sherwani was apparently not able to āBreatheā. Was Arfa
Suffocated inside the echo chamber of lies and propaganda aimed at the
vilification of Hindus? Turns out, No! She found an opportunity to shove
her victim card as a āMuslimā when it was the Hindu community who was
being crushed in the communal cauldron for celebrating its festivals.
In Jahangirpuri of Delhi, stones were pelted
at a Hanuman Jayanti Shobhayatra on Saturday night after the procession
supposedly passed through a āMuslim areaā. Just the sight of the
āKafirā Hindus evoking salutations to their ādemi-godā was so atrocious,
that the severe neurological instinct to pick up the closest stone and
throw it onto the lesser civilized heathens was charged in some. But it
was now time for Sherwani to sit inside her āThe Wireā office at Gole
Market in central Delhi to do her part.