Code Number Clocked !

The title of this post is not meant to confuse anyone. When I joined the Saud Bahwan Group in December 2008 I was allotted an employee 'Code No.' My Code No. is 21217 which means that I was the 21217th individual to join this company ( the oldest serving employee as on date is Code No. 4 - employed in 1973 and currently part of the TOP management !!).

Recently, on my way back to Muscat from a branch visit I happened to notice that the odometer on my car was about to show my Code No. as kilometers clocked till date. Not bad - clocking 21217 kms in just a little over one year ! I shot the following pics on this occasion. (click on the pic to enlarge):

Code No. Clocked !
A view of the scenic surroundings
Speed Thrills are Cheap Thrills - Dont try this !

Death of a Soldier

I came across the following poem in one the mail forwards someone had sent me. I found it worth sharing - so here goes !!

He was getting old and paunchy
And his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around the family,
Telling stories of the past.

Of a war that he once fought in
And the deeds that he had done,
In his exploits with his buddies;
They were heroes, every one.

And 'tho sometimes to his neighbors
His tales became a joke,
All his buddies listened quietly
For they knew where of he spoke.

But we'll hear his tales no longer,
For ol' Natha Singh has passed away,
And the world's a little poorer
For a Soldier died today.

He won't be mourned by many,
Just his children and his wife.
For he lived an ordinary,
Very quiet sort of life.

He held a job and raised a family,
Going quietly on his way;
And the world won't note his passing,
'Tho a Soldier died today.

When politicians leave this earth,
Their bodies lie in state,
While thousands note their passing,
And proclaim that they were great.

Papers tell of their life stories
From the time that they were young
But the passing of a Soldier
Goes unnoticed, and unsung.

Is the greatest contribution
To the welfare of our land,
Some jerk who breaks his promise
And cons his fellow man?

Or the ordinary fellow
Who in times of war and strife,
Goes off to serve his country
And offers up his life?

The politician's stipend
And the style in which he lives,
Are often disproportionate,
To the service that he gives.

While the ordinary Soldier,
Who offered up his all,
Is paid off with a medal
And a pension, meagre & small.

It is not the politicians
With their compromise and ploys,
Who won for us the freedom
That our country now enjoys.

Should you find yourself in danger,
With your enemies at hand,
Would you really want some Neta,
With his ever waffling stand?

Or would you want a Soldier--
His home, his country, his kin,
Just a common Soldier,
Who would fight to the skin.

He was just a common Soldier,
And his ranks are growing thin,
But his presence should remind us
We may need his like again.

For when countries are in conflict,
We find the Soldier's part
Is to clean up all the troubles
That the politicians start.

If we cannot do him honor
While he's here to hear the praise,
Then at least let's give him homage
At the ending of his days.

Perhaps just a simple headline
In the paper that might say:
"OUR COUNTRY IS IN MOURNING,
A SOLDIER DIED YESTERDAY.."