War Mongering is NOT Patriotism...

 I am exhausted.

Not just by grief, or fear, or sleepless nights filled with the echo of gunfire in places that once sang with the breeze—but by the deafening roar of war cries from people who have never held a bullet in their palm, or stitched a nameplate onto a coffin-draped uniform.

There’s a kind of madness in the air these days—this hungry need to retaliate, to show strength, to draw blood for blood, often from the mouths of those who’ve never had to wipe the sweat off a soldier’s brow or stand at the rail station, waving goodbye and praying that the next hug won't come in silence, encased in wood.

War-mongering has become a form of sport for some. A trending hashtag. A righteous stand. A hollow call for vengeance from climate-controlled rooms. But let me tell you what they don’t see.

They don’t see the trembling hands of a mother trying to call her son, not knowing if the line will ever connect again.

They don’t see the sisters who cry silently in the washroom because showing worry is “unnecessary drama.”

They don’t see the wives who carry on, cook, raise children, manage homes, and hold fort while their partner stands at the border where peace is just a paused explosion.

They don't see the children who are clueless on what their dads are doing, when they have a sports day or annual day or miss the PTMs or birthdays.

They don't see the racing heart of a friend, who acts poised and strong infront of the parents / wife / children of their loved ones, but deep inside carry the heaviest weight and darkest fear, praying hardly to wait for that one glass of cheers with their buddy!

You speak of war like it’s a switch. As if battle-hardened soldiers are made of stone. Yes, our soldiers are trained for adversity. But they are not numb. They are not machines. Behind that calm exterior is a mind trained to suppress fear, a heart that beats just as fast when bullets fly, and a soul that quietly collects every scream, every fallen comrade, every inch of ground that had to be claimed by blood.

They are hardened not by hate, but by sacrifice.
They are tough not because they crave death, but because they value life so deeply.
They don’t seek war. They prepare for it, so you don’t have to live it.

Every time someone screams for war without knowing what it costs, they forget that wars don’t just claim lives—they claim childhoods, marriages, mental peace, birthdays never celebrated, and anniversaries spent at martyr memorials. They don’t just end stories—they erase futures.

To be proud of your army is noble. To weaponize that pride for war-mongering is a betrayal.

So I plead: if you must shout, shout for peace. If you must fight, fight for dignity, dialogue, and humanity. Because the price of war is never paid by those who demand it—it’s paid by those who walk into it wearing olive green, and those who are left behind lighting lamps every night, praying they won’t get that call.

As a sister.
As a friend.
As someone who loves more than one heart wrapped in uniform…

I beg you—don’t make our soldiers fight battles that don’t need to be fought. Don’t demand war to feel strong.

Because every war you cheer from the comfort of your chair is a wound we carry in silence....

PS: All the opinions here are my own thoughts. And I don't stand against Bharat Maa... But I stand with her children who protects her Chasity by all means... and JaiHind !