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Susnatha Gupta Poem
I think I hear whispers floating through my mind,
It's the voice of someone I held dear-
I remember the days when games were the only stress there.
Opposite balconies facing each other,
Extending hands to see if we could hold together ,
We bonded over shared toys, origami papers and roaring laughter.
We played during every holiday as we grew,
Sometimes we stumbled over skates, sometimes over balls,
Sometimes trying to bat, sometimes gliding over the feather.
A shared childhood and a shared neighbourhood,
We grew up together,
He was the closest thing I had to a brother.
And then adolescence swooped in and we grew apart,
I wish! Oh how I wish! It hadn't been the death of our bond,
Life went on over forgotten graces.
When last Tuesday I heard his mother's screams,
There he was, his once bright face, now a canvas bleached by fear,
A shadow over his features as he hung from the ceiling fan.
His legs floating in the air,
His mother's screeches shook the whole definition of my fear,
I looked around as I welcomed the onslaught of tears.
The next day he was brought after having performed post mortem care,
Packed in a black bag his feet peeked through-
As I watched the last of my brother.
His voice echoed in the mind, body and soul-
He asked me, his sister, to avenge him and his mother,
He wished we hadn't fallen apart , we fell back together.
When I close my eyes, I still see his smile,
Haunting my inner sphere-
With a plea so loud it was a whisper mere.
~ heeya
Copyright © Susnatha Gupta | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Susnatha Gupta Poem
An orphaned child in a home locked away,
A misfit yearning for a place to stay.
A single bulb in the basement glowed—
Where she played chess with the janitor, silent and slow.
She might have been taught the specifics of the game,
Little did anyone know she was queen of the same-
Losing herself in the black and white squares of the game,
With herself as the bested opponent .
A prodigy she was, but so much more,
A predator lurking behind closed doors-
Seldom she found herself mixing chemicals with her brain-
Hoping for a respite, hoping for hope.
She strived to be identified as more than her gender,
She wanted her circumstances to be recognised to not be tender.
Feeling like she never could rely on anyone;
Found some mates in the most unexpected mirrors.
She saw through people's heads, saw through the stakes,
Indulged their games and drew them in with fakes -
She bested herself when she became world champion,
A russian semblance only to belong to chess corners.
She became a force to be reckoned with-
A Queen in her name, a queen among men,
From Moscow’s cold to global acclaim,
She became the queen—not just of the game.
A force in focus, fierce and deft,
Not just a woman—she is Beth.
Copyright © Susnatha Gupta | Year Posted 2025
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