Reading Time: 2 minutes
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
Very nice.
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.
Well said.
Poignant. Impactful.