"But in the end, the mountain has the last say." That was a phrase Shrinivas Sainis Dattatraya lived by — data analyst, mountaineer, dog rescuer, and the quiet, unwavering anchor in his wife Sushma Soma's life. On May 19, 2023, Shri summited Mount Everest and fulfilled his biggest dream. He never came home.
Sushma is a Carnatic vocalist, singer-songwriter, and environment advocate based in Singapore. Born in India, she spent years in the Big Four accounting world before leaving it all behind to immerse herself in the Gurukula tradition of learning music in Chennai. That leap eventually led to recognition as one of Singapore's "10 women leaders in music" and a recipient of the prestigious Young Artist Award. Her 2022 album HOME, inspired by the 2018 IPCC climate report, channeled ecological grief into ancient musical form — what Songlines called a "powerful statement about what we are doing to our planet."
But it was the loss of Shri that broke her open in ways she never anticipated. In that period, when she tried to confront her emotions through singing, it made things worse -- she discovered she was in physical pain when she sang, later learning it was muscle tension dysphonia. She struggled with the will to continue. Two dogs turned up at her home during that time, and as she puts it, "the fear of them marking all over my house was more than my desire to disappear into my bed."She showed up for their walks and meal times, and they wagged their way into her broken heart.
And then, slowly, music returned -- as cathartic, deeply creative expression. Working with her closest friend and music director Aditya Prakash, Sushma wove domestic sounds — a vacuum cleaner switching on, a tap running, a door locking — into The Mountain Has The Last Say, an EP that is both a sonic portrait of an empty home and a love letter to the man who filled it. She listened to it every day. "If there was one thing that could describe my traumatic grief," she says, "it would be the track 'his time | he's time'. In all the times that I've felt guttural pain, anger and sadness, the piece made me feel heard, and therefore, safe."
The EP was reviewed as a masterpiece and the most profoundly moving work to come out of Singapore. But for Sushma, it was never about acclaim. It was about survival.
Today, Sushma is developing Foreverest, a deeply personal stage work mentored by the internationally acclaimed choreographer Akram Khan. Its collaborators span three continents, bringing together artists from diverse disciplines and cultural perspectives. The result is a deeply human piece that invites audiences to reflect on memory, nature and endurance.
"I don't really know how to navigate grief," writes Sushma. "I fear it because it pushes me into a bottomless pit where I feel handicapped and I struggle to crawl out of. At the same time, I find grief so beautiful because it reveals that my being is present with an abundance of love that I never knew it was capable of holding."
Living in a home that "reminds her of everything," Sushma continues to create, grieve and celebrate through art, and to trust that life, in all its ruthlessness and kindness-- just is. Join Pavi Mehta and Andrew Hinton in conversation with her.
Ah, this is such a hard question to answer. There are many things that make me feel alive. Like, walking my dogs. Or singing in my practice space. Being out in nature without my phone. Cooking in an Airbnb using whatever random spices I find. Watching big cats documentaries. Listening to people talk about their life experiences. I suppose I am most alive when I am able to be in the present, fully immersed in that moment.
My husband Shri summitted Mount Everest on May 19, 2023. He did not return. I've been irrevocably changed.
Again this is so hard to answer. Following Shri's passing, so many gave themselves in ways I never thought I needed. And they continue to give! But maybe I will share how I did not know what I am about to share was an act of kindness at that moment, but I now know to articulate it as kindness. In the days after Shri's passing, I was desperate for the pain to leave me. I felt so burdened with his loss and desperately looked for ways for the pain to reduce or leave. Everyone around me kept telling me that time would heal and that my pain would go. There was just one person, TM Krishna - and when I asked him "Will this pain ever go?", he looked at me point blank and said "No Sushma. This will be very hard for you." And I remember my body and mind sinking even deeper in pain but at the same time, felt more seen and heard than I ever had. As I write about it now, his honesty was actually kindness. I stopped trying to run away from my pain after.
To see Katmai bears in Alaska.
We have one shot at life. Make it count.