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Wars Begin in the Minds of Men


A poignant and heart wrenching poem, by Dr. Roopali, about PTSD and sinking into insanity of a wounded soldier, for Different Truths.
 

Rat-a-tat-tat-rat-a-tat-tat the guns go
pain shrapnels through my throbbing head.
The smoke is acrid choking.
 
Somebody is using a rake inside me 
I can taste blood dribbling into my mouth.
 
There are shadows behind the Chinar trees and 
crawling figures everywhere 
my hands hurt, tremble and I am thirsty.
 
Bullet ridden I must drag myself into the ravine.
Who is shouting Shiva-Shiva?
Who is screaming Allah-Allah? 
Oh God, save us we are in hell 
my ear drums will burst.
                    
A sudden cool breeze blows
over the brick terrace
the mosquito net torn where 
the bayonet had pierced it
a shredded fibrous webbed 
netted piece of claustrophobia.
 
A jackal howls across the vast open maidan.
It’s past midnight, the moon is half gone. 
 
Like all nights since they brought him home 
Sepoy Ram Singh wakes up howling 
gun in hand rushing at terrorists 
who just won’t go away.
 
He had traded ripened wheat fields 
for mine fields and mayhem.       
It wasn’t his fault 
It was for the victory of the flag.
                   
Sometimes his leg made of wood 
on which he painfully stood
drew village louts to hear his story
full of brave battle and shining glory.
 
Then slowly other stories spread
about the devils inside his head 
Ram Singh has gone mad 
It is always good they said 
for a soldier to be dead.
A dead soldier is covered in glory
and others will tell his true story.  
 
Broken in limb and living 
with nothing more to gain 
his nightmares of war and pain
are no longer fit for the sane.
 
Only he could hear the bullets rain 
Only he could see his life wane 
Only he could feel his mind go insane. 

Poet’s Note: As a military spouse I have worked closely with military families. I am thus a personal witness to the mental condition called PTSD which is common among soldiers who have served in conflict zones. The recurrent, intrusive reminders of the traumatic event, including distressing thoughts, nightmares, and flashbacks make the person feel the event is happening again. One may experience extreme emotional and physical reactions to reminders of the trauma such as panic attacks, uncontrollable shaking etc. In layman’s language It is also called shell shock. 

Published in Through the Looking Glass: Reflecting on Madness and Chaos Within, by Indie Blu(e) Publishers, 2021 

Visual by Different Truths

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Dr. Roopali Sircar Gaur
Dr. Roopali Sircar Gaur is a poet, travel writer, and social justice activist. A former professor of English Literature at Delhi University, and a creative writing professor at IGNOU, she is a widely published academic and creative writer. Her book Twice Colonised: Women in African Literature, is a seminal text on women’s socio-political empowerment. In 2020-21, she co-edited two poetry anthologies – In All the Spaces: Diverse Voices in Global Women’s Poetry, and Earth Fire Water Wind.
4 Comments Text
  • Unfortunately, PTSD was disregarded for generations. Your poem brings it to light in an eloquent yet truthful way. Thank you for reminding us this still exists in the many homeless veterans of all wars.

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