Life in a Gap

My mother often hums this tune “zeezee zee zeezee..” which I am sure, she doesn’t even know the origin of. To fill in the gap between her attempted conversation knocking on my distracted minutes and getting back into her own head, unattended. As if compensating for my inattentiveness.

Life at times, under a topographic dissection, seems a lot like her “zeezee zee zeezee..” hum that fills in the gap. In between the person you were until yesterday’s moon cradled amongst the stars and the one you are about to become when today’s sun parks in the porch. The today that still feels like tomorrow, because you cannot yet see the sun.

But you know, it has risen.

Because your windowpane daintily shows the pastel-coloured cover of the book you dog-eared midway last night. And if you squint well enough, you can read the title written in bold, baskerville, right from your pillow.

The gap, where neither the moonlit balcony coaxes you into writing sombre poetry, nor the sun-kissed greens wash away the hungover paint of melancholy from your eyes.

As if you are in a syzygy, with you between your waning and your waxing crescent.

The gap where you have hummed away from yesterday and are still dawning into today. Compensating, sometimes over compensating for the latent swindle, life played you on a fiddle and the distinct elizabethan song you are about to be written into. You can hear the merry and mirthful orchestral ensemble consorting with your manifestations. But you cannot quite read the lyrics taking your shape yet. Not even when you squint.

But you know. You know the sun will ascend to address your eyes, from behind the tree right in front your balcony. Maybe in a few more minutes. Maybe in an hour.

You know the song you are about to be written into, will be dulcet and exquisite. Maybe today. Maybe a few more suns later.

So you hum away, mindlessly in the gap, into the uncertain plot developement in the upcoming paragraph in your dog-eared page.

Certain, that irrespective, the book will climax.

~ u.m

γ€ŠHello guys. I hadn’t posted here for a long, long time. But I’d certainly love to share my random thoughts over here and read all the beautiful ones of yours. So, here’s a restart to the journey again. Hope to come across many of you wonderful writers and bloggers, throughout.》

P.S – I am mostly active on Instagram (sana_mishra1) . Hope to connect with some of you over there as well. But first, hello here. 🌻

Sleeplessness Personified

She sat up straight and rubbed the back of her neck, cracking it, so as to fight the stubborn stiffness that refused to let go of her body. But oh, how stubborn it had become with time, didn’t even flinch anymore. It wasn’t only her soul that reeked of stubbornness.

Aunt Sleep had refused to caress her, yet another night. And she was already done with the tossing and the turning by then. Now, it wasn’t new to her, the sleep-deprived state. Seemed like moody Aunt Sleep was still mad at her for ditching her every now and then. Poor girl! She had now become accustomed to the staring-at-the-ceiling phase.

The thoughts however, all the million numbered ones, decided to accompany her, each of those nights. Yes, uninvited. How she wished she could kill them. But all she could do every night was put up a good fight and struggle to bury them in the back of her head, alive. Only if thoughts were mortals too.

She stretched her arms, indecisive of how to spend another two hours before the warm rays of the glorious sun graced her wintry balcony. Suddenly the clock seemed to have stopped. Wait, the balcony? Oh yes, the balcony! She could go out the door and sit there, staring at the stillness of the stolid branches, soaking in the positivity from her luminous little winking friends up above. She got up and wrapped the cozy blanket around her, ready to gaze at another, in harmony. But first, coffee.

She made herself some, black and strong, poured them into her big wide mug and walked across the hall, towards open air. She opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony. It was freezing cold. She hugged her blanket tighter and wrapped her icy fingers around her hot mug of survival while she sat down on the glacial chair. Still shivery, she looked up. The luminous ones winked at her with joy. After all, she was accompanying them at this hour after ages. They had missed their 3 am friend. Tonight was going to be all chatty it seemed. Their slience and her eyes – it were going be two very long hours. So much catching up to do. So many stories, so many nights, numerous kisses and a thousand fights , the late night walks, the long distance calls, the leaps of faith, the oh-so-hard falls , the unfixable heartbreaks, the unexpressed words – yet to be told, yet to be heard.

The night didn’t seem so tedious anymore. She geared up to make up for all the nights she had missed. Only if the moon hadn’t been so distant. Again, her bad. She had been behind her walls for way too long for the moon to understand. She didn’t know how to explain but gave it a try and two. She saw the moon peeping from behind the grey blob of cloud and going back, all the more sulky. Maybe it’s going to take more than a night to convince the moon. Maybe that’s what it wants and hence acting all resentful. She made a mental note to try again the next night.

Those two hours belonged to the luminaries then.Taking a baby sip, she looked at them, all ready to soak in their sparkle, one wink at a time.

~ Sana Mishra

#sleepless #solitary #lonesome #blogpost

Hey guys! I have been away for so long now that even WordPress went, “Who there?” on me when I logged in. But I am back this time for good, or so I guess. Will be doing a lot of reading and a little of writing as of now. All of your posts, all of the beautiful blogs, I have missed them so much. Will try catching up on as much as I can. Hope you people are doing great. Keep writing, keep inspiring! πŸ™‚


A world to live in..
A dream to catch..
Words to live by..
Characters to snatch..

From cover to cover..
As pages we turn..
Some hopes we imbibe..
Some memories we burn..

We try not to judge
A book by it’s cover..
The thought fails to count..
The profile succeeds to hover..

The surrealism is bliss..
Other worlds sway and drift..
Round the speaker’s muse..
Our minds fairly orbit..

Throughout till The End..
The labyrinthine maze evolves..
From our brain-boxes..
Ourselves, it absolves..

The intricacies engulf us..
We know not what they imply..
Towards it or away –
Where realism applies..

Some words we try to live by..
Some characters we try and snatch..
A Book is a world we live in –
A dream we try to catch..!

                              ~ Upasana Mishra

Probably a very late post, but wish you all a very happy World Book Day!!!

My first eBook

My first ever eBook – The Moon-kissed Hustle (a collection of poems) – has been published. I won’t promise you a solid 200-300 pages long-read, it’s​ a rather small collection. All I hope is it reaches out to people, to you. 

It’s out on Kindle store. I hope you guys read it, and give me feedbacks on how you liked it or didn’t. πŸ™‚

I know I haven’t been into blogging, since long. I was wound up (and a bit lazy :p ) . I promise to try and keep the pieces coming. 

Thank you. 

~ Upasana Mishra


​..and then it struck me – am I past that phase? – of a ‘New-year-New-beginning’ or a ‘New-year-New-me’? 

For the first time in my twenty-something years, there was no sign of exhilaration.

Not that I didn’t do the ‘happpyyy-newww-yeaarrrr’ bout at midnight, just that it didn’t give me the adrenaline rush this time. There was no yearning to ‘do-something’ on the Eve. All there was, was the pinch of accountability that said, “Atleast be a sport for the people around you..”. And that’s what I did – an enactment of exuberance.  

  No, nothing lamentable has touched me over the days. Maybe I’ve become emotionally insensate, or maybe simply numb; and for a change – this numbness feels good. 

Way too many people spend the day doing nothing on the Eve, every year. But when it comes to ‘me’ doing nothing, I know what that means – things are changing. Things are changing way too fast. Should it scare me?


“But it didn’t. Rather I felt nothing, nothing remarkable to explicate or comprehend.” 

There used to be days when “let’s-do-this” used to stir me up. There used to be days when I fancied ‘going-out’ and ‘having-a-Day’ like all the other people out there. There were days when…Well, what happened?

“But you still had it for Christmas..”

“No, I had it for food, the ‘Day’ just fell along..”

“Then maybe you just grew up?” 

“Yeah.. Maybe..”

“And maybe now you luxuriate in peace, rather than in ostentatious displays.”

“I guess..”

” And maybe now you know what exactly you want from life. Maybe you no more want to just ‘fit-in’. Maybe you’ve just stopped shaping yourself according to the vessel. Maybe you’ve just started loving yourself as you are – the ‘real’ You?”

“Well, yeah, I no more feel obligated towards the pompous displays of the world. I sure am up for the relishments of life, but in my own little ways. Maybe I am in rhythm with my soul, finally.”

“I know, right?”

“Oh, what would I do without you…”

And though I can’t say anything about contemplating the whole year ahead, this little ‘Me-to-Me’ conversation pepped me up to start the day afresh. 

                               ~ sana_mishra 

(At this stage of life, I cannot envision what the new ‘Year’ to unfold for me. But I sure can pep myself up every ‘Day’ to start afresh the next day.)

P.S – Happy New Year everyone. πŸ™‚

Oh, those days are long bygone..

​When Republic day meant picnic at the zoo,

and Independence day was patriotism at school,

When Children’s day meant fun and frolic,

Oh, those days are long bygone..!!

When ‘dedicated to our teachers’ had it’s own importance,

And ‘for you, dear students’ was awaited for,

When that ice-cream cup was enough a gift,

Oh, those days are long bygone..!!

When ‘Happy Children’s day’ was still counted upon,

When ‘Mama’s Girl’ was more of a praise,

When hand-written cards were not yet lame,

Oh, those days are long bygone..!!

When sadness meant a worn out teddy,

And happiness was a chocolate from dad,

When mom’s hand was the best pillow,

Oh, those days are long bygone..!! 

When sleeping on the couch and waking up on the bed,

Was all the ‘confusion’ we had,

When ‘tired’ meant a busy play-day,

Oh, those days are long bygone..!!

When ‘stress’ was just a word for dictation,

And sex still meant ‘male’ or ‘female’,

When ‘hurt’ still meant an external injury,

Oh, those are long bygone..!!

When ‘Story time with Grandma’ was our favourite pastime,

And Grandpa was the only Google we had,

When food was measured with love, not calories,

Oh, those days are long bygone..!!

When ‘I love you’ was an honest statement,

And ‘Best Friend’ wasn’t merely a tag,

When good manners were still in trend,

Oh, those days are long bygone..!!

When “I love both” to “Mom or Dad?”,

Was the only diplomacy we ever knew,

When parents asking questions wasn’t considered interference,

Oh, those days are long bygone..!!

When a lie was still a lie,

And black and white were only colours,

When “I’m okay” didn’t have a hidden story,

Oh, those days are long bygone..!!

When our mouths spoke what our hearts felt,

And ‘Pretend’ was just a game we played,

When ‘player’ had no other meaning,

Oh, those days are long bygone..!! 

Oh those days are long bygone,

When ‘complicated’ was a tough word to learn,

When ‘ignorance is bliss’ fitted in perfectly,

Oh, those days are long bygone..!!

                    ~ Sana 

Motivated? Or not?Β 

​“I suppose that is what we lack- the motivation to write”. And that struck the chords on our ratiocination. We lacked motivation. There was exiguousness of something that pushes us forward- to take the next step, to write the next line. We were bereft of that push- that proclamation of our conscience that tells us why we need to do something, why we need to write. ‘Cause that is what motivation is- a push; subdued or mordant, that push is what keeps us going.

 “Motivation to write- to write what’s right..” “..and make it right to write it”. Wow..!! We are lost as writers. After having jotted down hundreds of poems, songs and ballads of broken hearts, now as the beats get fainter, our words are lost in our thoughts. We are as lost as ‘Alice’, in the ‘Wonderland’ of inked and digitalized expressive utterances. 

To understand why we need motivation or even that slight push to our vehemence, it is important for us to sustain and acknowledge it. We have endured and reconciled ourselves to euphoric moments of acclimation, but have found ourselves ‘sans- motivation’ everytime we have needed it in profusion. Every time we have tried to cajole ourselves into reorientation, we have sunken deeper into the twilight of our minds, for betraying our own resolutions. 

Undergoing those moments of self-betrayal is what we need to apprehend the role of the word ‘motivation’ in our lives. We then discern that we cannot count upon ourselves to psych us up. That is when we seek extraneous resources. We count upon sources like friends family, books, internet and what not. Sometimes they work, sometimes nothing at all helps. Then we again wander back to our own profundity, feeling indefensible. That is when we truly comprehend the phrase, ‘God helps those who help themselves’. We are hardly motivated by an external reinforcement ’cause we are unable to grasp the complete sense of it; mostly. Unless we ourselves want to do something, nothing can basically make us budge.

Yes, it is our firm believe that only we can pull ourselves out of the black-hole. It’s our own voices that are capable of escorting us to the effulgence, illuminated by our own hands. Having read all those ‘motivational books’ and ‘self-helf literature’, now we know that it’s all momentary; nothing lasts. All we are looking for is an uninterrupted flow of ‘motivational sap’; but to no avail. Motivation can only be intermittently recharged by these borrowed sources, it is us who needs to keep the flame ablaze. 

But yet again, we fail to persuade ourselves. We fail to synchronize our brains with our hearts. Yes, it’s always a squabble between our hearts and our brains. When it’s our passion to do something, it comes straight from our hearts. Our hearts know why we need to write- how we have always wanted to do it, how we cannot imagine ourselves doing anything else or how it’s the only outlet to our emotions. But nothing seems to help- reason?Our brains always overpower. Yes, brain is a logical organ, it knows how to sort it’s priorities- but according to the immediate need of the hour. So the urgency, of our  ‘knows-no-logic’ hearts, is mostly shut off.  That is how we procrastinate. Logic always finds a way over passion. Had we been bounded to it, had it been something we had to do for a cause, our brains would have freed our hearts to empower. Only if we could find a way to tame both our hearts and brains..!!

 The above piece was written by me and my fellow bogger, Mayank Mishra, on a combined note.

-do follow his site, alluring verses you are sure to find. Happy reading..!! πŸ™‚ 

A random thought..

​It’s both wondrous and nerve-racking when someone actually tries to read you, from cover to cover. It’s prodigiously fascinating to know that there is someone out there who is that much into you. It’s equally unnerving when you come to think, ‘what if he doesn’t like a chapter? Would he care to turn the page then?’