Poem: Seven Minutes After Death
After the gunshot is fired,
I’ll hear their screams slice through the smoke.
Perhaps I’ll hear my mother too if she finds me in time.
Blood will gush down my forehead,
Warming me in the bitter cold.
They will surge around me to take the food I had collected.
I hope my brother is among them.
He hasn’t eaten in two days.
In the first minute after death,
I’ll be eight again—
Flying kites with my friends
While my little brother watches in awe.
“We will fly them together when you grow up,” I would say.
In the second minute, I’ll go to the flea market with my mother.
I’ll beg for the superhero figurine, but she’ll refuse.
I’ll cry all the way home, then fall asleep.
When I wake, the figurine will be waiting on my desk.
I will run to her and hug her.
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In the third minute, I’ll be at school.
My friend and I will laugh too loud at an unfunny joke
The teacher will hear us, and throw us out.
We will stand in the hallway, ears pinched in punishment,
Still laughing.
In the fourth minute I’ll eat grapes with my father.
As the tart juice lingers on my tongue,
I’ll tell him how much I love grapes.
The next day, he will bring home two bags of grapes.
I’ll eat them until I hate grapes.
In the fifth minute, I’ll write my college essay—
Trying to impress the admission officers
With my pretentious choice of words
And my fair share of underwhelming life experiences.
I’ll attach my resume, test scores, extracurriculars—
proof that I had lived.
In the sixth minute I’ll see my mother
Weeping over my father’s dead body.
I’ll be holding her and my little brother
As they kick us out of our home.
I won’t cry. I must not cry.
In the seventh minute, I’ll be in a montage—
I’ll see my father, mother and little brother in my childhood home.
My little brother will be grown now—
He will be flying kites.
My mother will place the superhero figurine
on the top shelf beside her favourite book,
and cook my favourite meal.
My father will have two bowls of grapes in front of him,
one for him and one for me.I’ll walk by my dream school—
the one I never got to see.
Finally I’ll hear them scream again—
Lunging at each other to take the food I had collected.
I hope my little brother is among them.
He hasn’t eaten in two days.
Cover Image is generated by AI
Anushka Ghosh is a writer at heart, for whom words are a passion and a part of her very being. She loves expressing herself through writing, drawing inspiration from her interests in painting, dancing, and reading. A dedicated student, she secured All India Rank 1 in the ISC 2026 examinations. Through all her pursuits, writing remains her truest form of self.
