They stood not for medals, nor silken praise,
But for the flag that flew through smoke and blaze.
With thunder in steps and fire in their gaze,
They carved their tales in freedom’s rays.
Beneath the stars, on border lines,
They fought with hearts like ancient shrines.
Each drop of blood, each battle scar,
Lit up the night like a shining star.
No cry of fear, no step behind,
Their courage roared through storm and wind.
With every fall, they rose again—
A silent oath in every vein.
So let us not forget their name,
Nor let their spark be lost to flame.
In every breath, let’s sing along,
Their Veer Gatha—our proudest song.
