Let Us Rouse Our Vegetating Psyche Poem by Madathil Rajendran Nair

Let Us Rouse Our Vegetating Psyche

Rating: 5.0


(The sad news of Aruna Shabaugh’s death headlined newspapers across India this morning. She was a nurse at King Edward Memorial Hospital, Parel, Mumbai. She went into a vegetating coma after a ward-boy sexually assaulted her in 1973 and remained in that state at the same hospital for the last forty-two years under the care of her colleagues/staff. The hospital was just across the street from Haffkine Institute where I was working at the time of the incident. Although I am happy her ordeal has ended, the news of her passing away broke me down. A tsunami of empathy engulfs me and I wish the whole nation is washed by it.)
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Aruna Shanbaugh has left
Forty-two years of vegetating has ended
On a King Edward Memorial Hospital bed
When uncaring time morphed a dreamy damsel
Into a wrinkled mass of grey sixty-eight without her knowledge

They said she had been conscious
But perhaps not aware
Of what was going on around her
Well, all that is a matter of conjecture
Now for fruitless debaters.
Who can understand a caged bird’s frantic flaps
Behind the jail-bars of blocked senses?

I had worked just across the street
From where she was trespassed
Our ways might have crossed on the roads
Without our knowledge, we were strangers
As she then hadn’t the tragic identity
Which calamity imposed on her with horrendous cruelty

As she lay looking blankly at the ceiling
In the care of her untiring colleagues
The law spent a lot of heartless time
Deciding the nature of the crime
Society debated if euthanasia was the need of the time

Forty-two dead years of national vegetating
During which millions of mothers and sisters
Across our land were brutally disrobed and shamed
An orgy that continues even now unabated
Despite our loud and empty claims

Aruna, how sad your tragedy hasn’t taught the men
The lessons they should have learnt
Long, long ago, that a woman too is a friend
Not a piece of meat, and should be treated like an equal confidant!

Why have we failed in drilling this theme
Into the head of every male child of our land
Right from birth, so it pauses
Later in life to salute in respect
Whenever a woman crosses its route?

The granite stones of King Edward
Are tearful this morn of humid May
A bird that had housed in it
For a long while has just flapped away

Men of the nation, ask yourselves
If her plight has welled your eyes
And torn your hearts, if yes
Get to your feet, rouse this nation’s psyche
From the vegetating coma it is in

May dear Aruna rest in peace
May her story never repeat

Let Us Rouse Our Vegetating Psyche
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
My note at the beginning of the poem explains.
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Kelly Kurt 19 May 2015

I hope this gets put as poem of the day! People need to read this. Thank you Madathil

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Immense thanks Mr. Kurt for your kind words. I still have a long way to go before my writings can hit the home page! Thanks to Uma-ji and Geetha-ji too for their thoughtful appreciation of the poem.

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Abhilash Nair 19 May 2015

Nicely written Acha.

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Abdulrazak Aralimatti 20 May 2015

A narration that is the need of the hour to enlighten Indians who pass their life in lustful moments on the pretext of some cultures

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Geetha Jayakumar 19 May 2015

A Lovely tribute to Aruna Shanbaugh. A tragic end of one's life in Vegetative state, unknowing of whats happening around. Beautiful presentation. Loved reading it. I also wrote a poem on her, yet to post it.

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Mark Heathcote 27 May 2015

A heart rendering story put into words, a very difficult subject to handle tactfully, which you have done.

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Kumarmani Mahakul 24 May 2015

It is a sad story regarding tribute to Aruna presented in most heart touching way. This poem should be the poem of the day.Thanks for sharing.

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Rajesh Thankappan 23 May 2015

It is sad- very, very sad the way Aruna had lived and died. As you have very rightly said the nation's psyche has to be awaken and the human psyche too. The poem is indeed very touching.

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Kee Thampi 22 May 2015

morn emotionally to speak Our ways might have crossed on the roads Without our knowledge, we were strangers As she then hadn’t the tragic identity Which calamity imposed on her with horrendous cruelty

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Forty two years of living without life is symbolic of standing against injustice and human brutality. You brought out the tragedy in detail. Hope those living will learn from all this.

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