MY CAP DUCKS

In his well starched khaki camo, he stands head high, with a momentary grin flashing now and then across his fierce face. He lives everyday to protect an oath, which he defiles everyday.
  So an old lorry driver pulls over, and hands him a white note, half a hundred perhaps, and all his sins, both seen and unseen, are forgiven.

But I joy in his resilience, his willingness to “die for his country”,  and the ease with which he corrects a defiant citizen, with a slap from his bamboo­-dry hands. For most, all this disappear at the sound of war cry, for the remaining few, they remain fixed eye, even till the bucket is kicked. For them my cap ducks.

  By Ivy..