At the end of the poor village of Palampur, lived an old disabled veteran named Ranjit Singh, alone in his old, tiled-roof house. No wife, no children, yet for over 10 years, people saw him successively adopting only orphan girls from orphanages or those abandoned at the end of alleys, or in bustling marketplaces.

Each girl who came into his home was educated, lived a decent life, and upon reaching adulthood, either started their own business or was respectably married off by him.

No one understood why he only adopted girls, never taking in a single boy.

The villagers pitied and respected him, but also whispered:

“Perhaps he caused something in his youth, and now he’s adopting to atone…” “Or perhaps he’s haunted by the loss of a daughter?”

But he said nothing, only offered a gentle smile.

It wasn’t until a day in mid-July that he died suddenly, leaving behind an empty house and… a securely locked wooden box, accompanied by a handwritten letter placed on the altar.

When his adopted daughters gathered to arrange his funeral, the entire village was stunned when the box was opened.

Inside were:

A stack of old, black and white photographs – pictures of young women from the border regions forcibly taken during the conflict.

A long list of dozens of names with birth years – clearly stating: “Daughters left behind by my comrades…”

A tear-stained diary: “…We were once stationed in the border area. Many of my comrades died, leaving behind children they never even got to meet… I promised to protect those budding lives for them. But most were girls… because back then, the boys were often conscripted or abandoned because they looked too much like the ones who caused their mothers pain…” “I chose to raise girls because they are weaker, more vulnerable… and because I once saw a little girl sold across the border when she was just 9 years old. I couldn’t save her. So the others… I had to save at all costs.”

All the children he adopted for 10 years… were children of martyrs, war victims, or abandoned by their mothers after being forcibly impregnated.

Ranjit Singh – the old soldier without wife or children – chose to bear the pain of an entire generation, silently, until his last breath.

At his funeral that day, there were no cries of sorrow, but rather the lullabies sung by young mothers – the very girls he had saved years ago.

A small child – the grandchild of his “first adopted daughter” – stood by his portrait, softly calling:

“Great-Grandpa… please don’t go.”

And everyone turned away, no one daring to wipe their tears in the scorching mid-July sun…