A Soldier’s Lament

Once, in the army, respect was the creed,  

Where hierarchy stood, and all would heed.  

From jawan to leader, a path so clear,  

Each rank held honor, each title dear.

In early days, when I donned my gear,  

The senior’s command was sharp, sincere.  

With dreams in my heart, I marched with pride,  

Knowing my rise would be dignified.

But now, I stand with stripes on sleeve,  

And the respect I earned begins to leave.  

The power once spread, now tightly bound,  

A single voice in every sound.

The zero error, they chant and preach,  

Yet the wisdom of years, they do not reach.  

No room for failure, no space for grace,  

A rigid order in every place.

But look around, and what do I see?  

The ones who bow down, who lack the spree,  

Who practice subversion with a subtle smile,  

They rise up the ranks, mile after mile.

The strong of will, with spine and mind,  

Are left behind or met unkind.  

For having a voice is now seen as a threat,  

And with stern action, their fate is set.

Personality’s now anarchy’s brand,  

And those who dare to take a stand,  

Are silenced, shunned, or cast aside,  

In a system where conformity’s the guide.

The pride that burned in a soldier’s chest,  

Now feels like a burden, no time to rest.  

For the years I gave, and the trust I earned,  

Have been reduced to a page that’s turned.

The juniors look, but not with awe,  

For the senior’s respect has met its flaw.  

No longer the guide, the mentor, the sage,  

Just a rank on a file, trapped in a cage.

So here I stand, with a heavy heart,  

As the values we cherished drift apart.  

I yearn for the days when a soldier’s rise,  

Was met with respect, not hollowed eyes.

Yet still I serve, for the love runs deep,  

Though the times have changed, my oath I keep.  

For in my soul, the old fire burns,  

A soldier’s pride, for respect returns.