Soldiers Fighting for Peace

WRITER'S WORKSHOP

I was attending a “Memoir as Healing” workshop at a local community college. We were 6 of us sitting in a circle, three men and three women.

The workshop began with a five minute meditation followed by a formal introduction, where each one of us spoke about our background and experiences. During this interaction, I came to know that all the other 5 people had either directly participated in a war or had interacted closely with people involved in a war.

After that, the coordinator dedicated 10 minutes to write about something that was haunting us.

Next followed the critical moment, when each one of us got a chance to read (aloud) our scribblings.

The first male member read with a heavy voice, “I somehow wished and believed that it was the last war; but unfortunately my wish did not come true…” about his experiences of the Vietnamese war. Through his expressions, I got a glimpse of the deep scar on his heart.

The second male war veteran read, ”I found myself asking two ethical questions. One whether it was correct to have a war in the first place and second to become a part of it, when I knew what a war actually means…” From the unshed tears in his eyes, the shaking pen in his fingers and the engraved lines on his forehead, I heard the second half of the sentence. “For I know what a war destructs other than families and countries; it destroys (for the rest of the life) the peace of mind of those (soldiers) who manage to return (home) with their complete/incomplete physical bodies...”

When the last male got his turn, holding the pen firmly (as if for support) between his two hands with elbows resting on the table; in a choked voice he said, “I feel like crying.” It was the pain in his voice, which continued to ring in my ears, much after he limped away using a stick.

In the second session the coordinator assigned 30 minutes to write about “something” that was longing to come out in that moment.

Without any second thoughts, I found myself writing about those four reverberating words; which I had heard a few minutes ago and had read a few months ago in a text message.

VISITING THE PAST

It was a text message from an old classmate, a soldier (in India); who I had been trying to reach that morning (from US). It read something like this, “Just got back from a 36 hour violent combat. One of my men got killed. I feel like crying...”

When I read the message, I called him up immediately.

“Oh, Did I wake you up?” I apologized on hearing a sleepy voice.

“No, that’s OK. I will not be sleeping tonight…” he told me in a very tired voice.

“Why?” I asked surprisingly.

“There is a lot of chaos going on here, and my phone would be ringing all night. The entire unit is shaken up...,” he replied in a very perturbed voice.

“Would you like to share what happened?”

“No”, which sounded like NO.

Breaking the uneasy silence that followed, I inquired about the deceased soldier.

“How old was he?”

“Very young”, he replied, (as if) rubbing fingers on his bent forehead.

“What about his family?”

“Yes, two young kids and wife”, he said softly, (as if) nodding his head and showing me the height of the kids, with his other hand.

“Hun” I said “ Very sad indeed.” Then in an attempt to drift away from that topic I added, “You know how Indira Gandhi’s (one of India’s late Prime minister’s) two young sons left this world. The pilot son got assassinated on the ground and the politician son died while flying. So you see, anybody can leave this world, anytime and anywhere; independent of his profession...”

“Who is scared of death?” he interrupted me almost screaming.

“It is the brutality, the violence with which he got killed that is bothering me...”

He was audibly angry even in that pause.

“You know, you cannot even imagine what goes on here...”, he continued sounding very frustrated.

I thought about that for a few seconds and then said admitting in a low voice “Yes, perhaps, you are right.”

After that, I tried to talk cheerfully; but did not succeed in lifting up his grieving spirit. In the stillness that followed, I could sense he was holding back his tears and was longing to hold somebody.

Just then his other phone started ringing loudly, as if, shattering the silence and our conversation ended abruptly.

That afternoon, I felt very gloomy for the deceased soldier, his incomplete family and for all soldiers struggling with violence; violence, which is a detested yet an integral part of their lives.

I found myself longing to stay quiet that evening.

BACK TO PRESENT

During my drive back home, after the workshop, I felt that familiar lingering sadness and a wish to remain silent.

That night, I could not stop thinking about those three war veterans, the vibration in their voices, their discomfort suggesting body gestures and the grief in that phone conversation. I registered how helpless they felt in conducting and witnessing the violence, they did not wish to be a part of. I heard their desperation in trying to shut that noise of exploding bombs, still echoing in their ears. I felt how much they need to permeate a loving body with wailing tears, during those heart-breaking-mourning moments; instead of carrying on their duties.

The next morning, I realized that irrespective of the country/border which a soldier is protecting, deep inside each soldier is the same human being and is dealing with similar-difficult issues. Also what I heard in, "I feel like crying" was a roaring storm of pent up emotions, desperately searching for a vent; but unable to find one. That day, when I prayed for world peace and their peace of mind, I felt that my own problems (what so ever) seemed insignificant.

In the next few days, I continued to experience a certain heaviness on my mind.

One day, I saw tears sliding out of my eyes on realizing that as I was typing on my laptop sitting in a lush-green campus (next to the water fountain); an anonymous soldier(s), somewhere (in the world) was struggling with his own life or peace of mind in a destroyed-red field. I felt remorseful on registering the cost of my taken-for-granted protection and my (so far) lack of gratitude towards those unknown providers. With those tears (for the very first time in my life), I saluted each soldier; physically dead or not.

RIPPLE EFFECTS

Both during and after completing this writing, two questions kept on haunting me from within. The questions, for which I would seek an answer from all readers in the "Post A comment" section at the bottom of this writing.

So, here are the questions followed by my answer.

Q-If you were in those soldier's shoes, how would you find peace?

A- I would try to meditate and write (about whatever evolves during meditation) until I would feel peaceful.

Q-What is it that you can do to help them find peace?

A-Circumstances are what they are, cannot be changed; but the only choice that can be made (if at all) is in the reaction. Therefore, I pray that they learn to handle those difficult circumstances by seeking guidance from within and to discreetly visualize that guidance on paper, till they find peace.

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To listen to heart felt peace wish (in English and Hindi) click on the green triangle below:




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