A Doctor's Journal Entry for August 6, 1945

About the Poet & Context

The poem is authored by Vikram Seth, a highly acclaimed poet born in Calcutta in 1952, known for winning multiple prestigious awards such as the Padma Shri and the Sahitya Academy Award.
Published in 1990, the text is a powerful, anti-war poem detailing the horrific aftermath of the atomic bomb dropped by the United States on Hiroshima, Japan, on August 6, 1945.

The morning of August 6 begins as calm, warm, and beautiful.
The narrator is peacefully gazing out at shimmering leaves and shadows when the tranquility is abruptly broken by a series of startling, strong flashes of light.

The narrator initially mistakes the bright lights for magnesium flares, but the reality sets in as the roof, walls, and the world around him collapse into swirling dust, timber, and debris.
The force of the blast mysteriously blows his clothes away. He suffers sudden and severe injuries: a splinter juts from his mangled thigh, his right side bleeds, his cheek is torn, and dislodged glass embeds itself in his body.

Panic-stricken, with an artery bleeding in his neck, the doctor calls out for his wife, Yecko-san.
She emerges pale, frightened, and bloodstained, holding her elbow. Urging each other that they will be fine, they decide they must get out quickly.
As they stumble out to the street, they horrifyingly trip over the crushed head of a dead man lying under a fallen gate.

They are surrounded by tilting, swaying, and toppling houses, with wind fanning fires through the dust. They resolve to head to the hospital for medical aid and to assist the staff.
The doctor's legs give way from exhaustion. He experiences severe thirst but cannot find any water to drink, eventually regaining just enough strength to stand.
He realizes he is entirely naked but feels an odd lack of shame. This numbness is slightly disturbed until a passing soldier silently gives him a towel to cover himself.

With his legs stiff and rebelling due to dried blood, the doctor realizes he cannot keep pace and forces his distressed wife to go on ahead without him.
As she leaves, a dreadful loneliness washes over him; his mind is racing, but his injured body refuses to cooperate.
He observes other survivors walking around like shadowy, wordless ghosts or scarecrows, completely silent in their shock.
He notices they are all walking with their arms stretched rigidly straight out. It takes him time to understand that they are doing this to prevent the friction of their own limbs from rubbing against their severe burns and causing agonizing pain.

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