Veer Singh, a veteran soldier, was known for his resilience. The quality of resilience he did not inherit as a young recruit but intense training and the cruel lessons of war instilled it in him.
Veer visited his parents yearly. After a brief vacation, Veer was all set to return to duty. While he packed his bags, tears welled up in his parents’ eyes as somewhere deep down, they feared losing him. Their fear was justified as they had already lost their eldest son.
One Year Later
Veer saw Jay, his comrade, rifle slung over his shoulder, walking towards the line of control.
“Stop! Stop! I can sense danger!” Veer shouted, but Jay kept moving.
Then – BOOM.
Jay’s body was thrown into the air and crashed to the ground, lying in a pool of blood.
“Jay, I warned you… but you didn’t listen. Don’t worry. Nothing will happen to you.” Veer whispered and held him tightly.
“Veer, what are you doing with the pillow? Jay is gone forever. You must accept it. It’s only a silhouette that your mind is creating. You’re not on a battlefield. You came home a year ago.” Veer’s sister said gently.
“Call the doctor immediately. There’s blood everywhere.” Veer howled, trembling.
“Oh, Veer, please calm down. Jay would never want to see you like this. You’ve been through such incidents before—you’ve seen bloodshed more often than any of us, yet you never broke down. It wasn’t your fault. You did your best. Didn’t you?” his sister muttered.
Realizing the depth of Veer’s trauma, she called the treating doctor and said, her voice shaking, “Doctor his PTSD is worsening. He doesn’t recognize where he is anymore.”
The doctor heard her calmly and advised her to remind Veer of his hobbies and the things he loved doing before joining the force alongside therapies.
That night, while rummaging through his drawers, she found a folded piece of paper—a poem by Veer himself.
“Veer,” she whispered, kneeling beside him, “look what I found in your drawer. You wrote this, but you forgot your own words.” She began to read aloud.
I am a soldier born to fight,
The only shade I wear is red – bold and bright,
Tomorrow when I die, don’t wonder why,
I am a soldier who will leave without saying bye.
Don’t bother coming to my funeral and get upset,
For if you cry, my soul will never rest,
Remember my courage, not sorrow or fears—
Let your smile remain, shining through the years.
I want to rest in peace when I die,
Till then, I’ll fight without a goodbye.
As she finished reading, a lone tear stained Veer’s cheek—a tear he had been holding back for an entire year. It carried the weight of friendship, memory, grief, and perhaps, the start of healing.
Though Veer never fully healed, and the pain lingered, therapy and support brought him moments of peace.
Sometimes, the bravest fight is not on the battlefield—but within.
Glossary: PTSD – Post-traumatic stress disorder
