THE DURAND LINE

The Durand Line”

April breath on a razor ridge…

Four shadows climb… beyond the edge…

We were kings with dust on our boots,

Chasing echoes, chasing truths,

Pakistan’s bones beneath our feet,

Where earth and heaven dangerously meet.

Sherpas watched with knowing eyes,

Silent judges, ancient and wise,

“Mountains take what men ignore…”

Still we hungered for something more.

Higher… higher… hear the call,

A whispered promise—risk it all—

On the Durand Line we stand,

Defying fate with trembling hands,

Through the ice, through fear and flame—

No two hearts will leave the same!

At four-two-zero the air grew thin,

Two turned back—let life begin,

But we pressed on, the chosen few,

With frozen breath and burning view.

Then the mountain claimed its due—

A step misplaced, the world askew,

Into silence, into white,

A soul extinguished from our sight.

Ahhh—ahhh—

Do you feel it slipping away?

Ahhh—ahhh—

Night devours the day…

But I stood tall with the Sherpas near,

Through the storm, through doubt, through fear,

Each step a hymn, each breath a fight,

We carved our names in endless white.

The summit called—we answered loud,

Above the storms, above the cloud,

A fragile victory, sharp and sweet—

The world lay trembling at our feet.

Ohhhh—

Is this triumph? Is this loss?

Count the souls, and count the cost…

Will they sing of what we’ve done—

Or curse the climb we never won?

On the Durand Line we rise,

Through the tears and shattered skies,

One fell silent, two turned away—

But we touched forever for one bright day!

April fades… the echoes stay…

Some live on… some drift away…