While He Marches

I wear no uniform,

No blues, whites or Army greens,

No ranks upon my shoulders,

No salutes I give,

But this military world

Is where I live.

I’m not in the Chain of Command,

Orders I do not get,

But my husband is a ‘Fauji’—

And that, I don’t forget.

I don’t fire weapons

Or put my life on the line,

But my job is just as hard—

I’m the one left behind.

My husband is the patriot,

A brave and prideful man.

His call to serve his country—

Not all can understand.

Behind the lines, I witness

What freedom truly costs.

In the silence of the hours,

I carry what is lost.

And in the stillness of his absence,

I am the Army Wife.

To every Indian—this is not just a moment in history, it’s a test of our soul. Our soldiers stand at every front, eyes unblinking, hearts unshaken, rifles raised not just in defence, but in defiance. They are the shield between chaos and our freedom. They bleed so we may breathe. They march not for glory, but for the flag that flies above us all. And as they press on through fire and fear, let us rise behind them—in thought, in prayer, in resolve.

“Kadam kadam badhaye ja, khushi ke geet gaaye ja”—their boots carry the rhythm of a nation’s heartbeat. “Yeh zindagi hai qaum ki, tu qaum pe lutaaye ja”—and they do, every hour, every breath. Let us never forget their courage.

Let us be worthy of their sacrifice.

Jai Hind.