⸻ Operation Sindoor – A Nation’s Crimson The earth had cracked, the skies wept, While hills of Pahalgam silently slept. But terror rose in raging blood, And washed away all dreams in mud. A bus of tourist hearts, so pure, Chanting peace, their faith secure. And then—a roar not from the skies, But bullets—hatred in a coward’s disguise. Homes were shattered, the valley was torn, Families cried, the day felt worn. And just when hope began to blur, The nation whispered—Call them, Sir! Boots marched in through all storms and rocks, Against all odds, against the clock. No capes they wore, no wings they bare, Yet angels walked through fearsome roar. It was not war, but it was a fight, Against the dark, to bring back light. To serve, to save, to stand once more, As guardians of this mountain floor. To paint the land not red with gore, With Sindoor—the shade we swore. ⸻ One side—blood, betrayal, pain, Another—sacrifice, love, and gain. One took lives in name of fear, The other gave life, wiped every tear. And in between, This nation stands, With folded hands and weeping sands. For every soul that terror breaks, A hundred sons the Mother wakes. So listen, world—to this silent song, Of a land that bleeds but still stands strong. Where terror strikes, but truth still sings, And when hearts break— India brings wings.