DAWN OF THE WHITE SLEEP
(autobiography of a dying soldier)
-by Anshul Gandhi
I lie here, uncared
while the rain beats down on my wound.
The wilderness all around me,
warns me that Iíll die marooned.
I thought I should help my country,
and do my duty towards the land;
I left everything and everyone behind me,
thinking that they would understand.
I thought that in my uneventful life,
this would be my moment of glory;
Unknown to me and others,
I was scripting the end of my story.
I am no hero or icon,
there wonít be many flowers at my grave.
Only a young widow shedding her tears,
others, I know, will be brave.
Thrice I killed the enemy,
the first for my own defence.
My friends patted me on my back,
while I lay shocked and tense.
The second one died alongwith my sanity,
as my compassion fell apart.
The third lies beside me now,
the bullet from his gun, in my heart.
I feel the rain drenching me all over,
or is it my blood trying to wash my sins.
I can see the smiling memories of the dead ones,
or is it they themselves, welcoming me with their grins.
They told me I had done the right thing,
they told me I should be proud.
They told me that even if death came,
my heroics would live outside my shroud.
I learnt to ignore my heart,
I learnt to suppress my emotion,
I gave up on all things Heavenly,
War was my only devotion.
Who was it that I walked with,
Who was it that shared my name.
Who was it that lived inside me,
I donít know what I became.
I want to grieve for the innocence
and the compassion that just died.
I want to mourn for my dreams,
and the life that got denied.
I want it all to fade,
I want it all to cease.
I just want my share of calmness,
I just want to rest in peace.
What can I do now,
when thereís nothing that lies within.
What can I do now,
but to wait for It to begin.
I think I see It already,
the light from beyond this place.
I can feel myself go lighter,
I think I feel His embrace.
I can see the world fade out,
and the light keeps going deep.
So this is how it all ends. .
with the dawn of the White Sleep.