A year after the Pahalgam terror attack that took the life of her husband, Bharath Bhushan, Bengaluru-based Dr. Sujatha continues to navigate a life divided into “before” and “after.” What remains constant, she says, is an overwhelming sense of loss.
“I’ve lost my emotion… I’ve lost my smile,” she shares quietly.
Her husband, an MBA graduate, had been her emotional anchor. “He understood the world, and I understood my patients. We balanced each other. Now, I don’t have that pillar,” she says.
Their four-and-a-half-year-old son, who witnessed the attack, carries memories no child should. “He saw his father being shot. We were both covered in blood. He kept saying, ‘Papa is hurt, there’s so much blood,’” she recalls.
Today, Bharath’s photograph rests beside her in the clinic—a silent presence she says continues to guide her. But the trauma lingers. “I keep myself busy from morning till night. If I stop, my mind goes back to that moment. It outweighs all the happiness we shared.”
Despite juggling long hours across hospitals and freelance consultations, she has made one promise to herself—Sundays belong to her son. “He needs me,” she says.
In a quiet, almost heartbreaking way, the child has adapted. He hasn’t asked for his father. “He’s very calm, like him. He doesn’t throw tantrums when I’m away. Only when I’m home,” she says, managing a faint smile. “I’m grateful he’s such a gentle child.”
With time, she has helped him understand the loss. Supported by her family, she keeps him engaged through play and learning, trying to build a sense of normalcy amid absence.
April, once a month of celebration, has turned into a painful reminder. Just days before the attack, the family had celebrated Bharath’s birthday and planned a temple visit followed by an outing. “Now, this month is something I can never forget,” she says.
Recalling the day of the attack, she remembers mistaking the gunfire for crackers. “I thought security would handle it—but there was no one there. Not even a single guard. Maybe things would have been different.”
She also reflects on a deeper concern—radicalisation. “These attackers are brainwashed into believing what they’re doing is right. Something has to change. This cannot continue.”
Since that day, fear has become a constant companion. “Even while driving, I’m alert—looking at trees, corners—wondering if someone is watching or targeting us.”
Yet, through grief and fear, she continues to move forward for her son.
If given the chance to relive one moment, she doesn’t hesitate. “My wedding day,” she says. “I was so happy. I kept asking him, ‘How did you choose me?’”
They had been married for six years when tragedy struck. “I’ve pushed myself to keep going,” she says. “But the loss… it never really leaves.”
