― Kahlil Gibran
A short poem from depths of soul written in the wee hours of the night by a special man who’s a pioneer of Woking, Surrey. A retired Nepalese psychiatric nurse who leaves home each morning with one thought on mind, serving the local community without a reward. His credentials are many and his achievements are plentiful. I can never list them all. His understanding of mental illness is deep and compassionate, something people can spend lifetime learning. His poems encompasses the range of human emotions on the path to self growth from pain to healing, they comfort the soul and inspire many in need.
Thank you Raj Chhetri for this work from depths of your soul on Syrian Orphans in Istanbul. It captures agony and the pain of mind. I don’t know how these people will ever be excavate their mind, with all the horror of war and being displaced. We can’t erase our painful experiences but what we can all do is to extend a helping and help someone to heal and understand it will be years before the cold of pain in hearts and mind will be healed.
Hurting Souls of Syrian War
Very moving, sad, scary, glimmer of hopes.–one smiling in spite of all the ordeals to survive.
One so traumatized keeping swaying back and forth,
one lost both legs yet smiling–needing only company;
mother unable to fathom her child’s emotional needs because her trauma has made her sense less–no emotion;
little girl traumatised–unable to smile because her heart is still in Syria where her loved ones were /had perished.
Such is the impact of a civil war now internationalised; family dispersed, some killed some maimed for life either physically or mentally–the mind–powerful enough to turn a person or persons to mute/dumbness psychologically or unable to feel pain anymore because the experiences have flooded out threshold to feel/sustain such psychological pain–as such it is unseen–invisible to our naked eyes.
On a mental wound it is difficult to put a plaster or a bandage; nothing to cover the festering mental wound. Physical wound is visible so necessary action/intervention can be instigated unlike the mental wound.
As winter moves in warmth of sun or warmth through warm clothing can relieve the effect of low temperature.
But the psychological winter remains uncovered cold in the heart and the mind.
Warm meal, soup and shelter are beneficial for the physical body but the trauma —stuck in the recesses of memory banks in the brain/mind remains in many cases invisible.
Painful emotional experience remains as unhealed wound , a rough scar.
Any painful experience rubbing on this scar sends sensory perception or the receptors–the synapses amongst brain cells completely hey-wye–thus emotional pain reverberates.
In a nut shell such refugees of war–just like fighting soldiers of 1st world war in trenches–suffer from Shell-shock. Their body cell has taken the hammering and the mind a considerable degree of battering.
Maha your photos and descriptions of children in these photographs themselves paint pictures of sorrows–undeniable and indelible. You captured beautifully and yet sadly, the casualties–innocent–and realistically speaking, the Victims. Such is the state of a Civil war–horrific sights and cries; blood and tears; hunger and thirst, rapes and abuse; graphically cold murders(ISIS) in the name of God Almighty or in the name(Assad of Syria) of a ruler/despot; a megalomania, immune to human suffering, only driven by ego and self preservation–of power.
Thank you Raj for this. We are forever grateful for your compassionate understanding of Human Needs. You are gifted with compassion and understanding: essential ingredients to understanding mental health. You see these people as people who have a condition not of their choosing.
A Tribute to Raj written by Yormi from USA. She’s never met Raj in her life, in fact I’ve never met Yormi in my life either, but we all are connected through compassion and love for each other.
“The whole world is my family”.
Late Dr Douglas Holdstock
Hands that make the heart merry;
Hands that quickens the dying hope,
Kindness that makes the soul leap,
The Open hands that cuddle the child;
Words that blows the mind like the rustling of the trees and the
Words with tones that sing the solonious duet
A samaritan’s spree that makes/places the orphan on lofty hopes
From the shirts of the limbless to the countenance of the broken hearted;
From the lips of the crying free born to the gates of the vagabond in ‘calm’ places.
The tossing right to left and the pivot of the homeless in the cold could only leave a resonance to the father of care.
You were right when you wrote; ‘winter moves in the warmth of the sun or warmth through warm clothing can relieve the effect of low temperature’.
Winter cannot snap at them, thanks to your generousity.
As slaves and strangers to their own soil, they collect their breathe for survival
How often would they have imagined when they lie to sleep,
Wishing for parity and retrieving all that has been lost for a gain?
Ay, the horses trample now as someone once said. But the lads couldn’t play heart and soul
If everyone would be like you, wouldn’t the world would a better place than this?
If the world could clean its mess, wouldn’t there be healing in the Land?
Shouldn’t the blood be replaced with water?
Should messages send us sorrow, toil, or woe?
Shouldn’t the vagabonds read further and see the peace that Islam preaches?
Shouldn’t trenches of war and crises be a thing of the museum?
…And they deny bangles’ clang for joy
These people are our dedication and our devotion is to them
Like someone also said, “volunteers have hearts of gold, helping people”
You are always generous, helping people, Oh heart of Gold,
Always giving and sharing;
You have never been hesitant in sharing. Without you, I wouldn’t be here today.
You believed in me and you have done me a great deal;
Helping these bleeding hearts, the downtrodden.
Truly, you have a heart of Gold.
With your kindness, you get my attention; everyday, you are planting a seed
Of curiousity and motivation
Everything you lay your hands on shall be green.
You shall not lack
And I look forward to getting more of your support, Inshallah.
Inshallah, Inshallah, Inshallah!
Even if my words aren’t doing the bleeding thanks;
I am grateful for all that you are doing.
Thanks you. Oh heart of Gold.