Sushri Sangita Mishra

Sushri Sangita Mishra

Poems of Sushri Sangita Mishra

Sushri Sangita Mishra is a well-known poet from Odisha- an Eastern Indian State, writing in Odia and English.

Born in 1975 at Bhubaneswar, Odisha, India, her poetic entity had surfaced from the tender age of nine! By the time she was nineteen, she had her first anthology of poems ‘Nirabatara Sabda’(Words from Silence) published in the year 1994, which astonished readers and critics for its maturity, inventiveness and vision. Her second anthology of poems ‘Nishtabdha Aakasha’ (The Silent Sky) has also been widely reviewed and recognised.

While according to most of the critics and readers, the essence of her poetic voice is philosophy and more specifically metaphysics, many of her poems dissect and deal with social issues like poverty, polarity, prejudice, ignorance, anarchism, and many of her poems flow like a cool breeze celebrating nature as the manifestation of divinity. She has received many awards and accolades in Odisha for her contribution in the field of literature. Her next anthology of poems in English is on its way to arrive. Many of her poems have been translated into different languages including French, Russian, Bengali and Tamil. She has contributed many articles and write-ups on financial services and economic issues in a variety of journals. Last but not the least, she is a singer with a gifted voice.  

She currently lives in Chennai, a southern state in India, along with her family and serves as a corporate professional in the Banking and Financial Services Industry.






Sushri Sangita Mishra

Sushri Sangita Mishra

The Poems:



I have walked very long 

on the rocky bed of time 

In my effort to excavate truth

many times, I have fallen 

into the pit 

where truth sits complacent

refusing to be rescued, 

Since for truth, earth is trivial. 


Many times I have fallen 

Into bottomless depth. 

And defying death 

I have risen on my own. 

Aeons have passed 

I still carry on. 


This is just once more

that I would look for my origin 

Before I get up 

And walk again,  

a few questions 

to be triggered at random.                                              

Sitting on the mouth of cannon 

my words would tremble,

my silence would echo in me for a while.

This is just once again

that a drop of tear 

would be left 

for its fossil to be found  

under the frozen time.   




Road is a moving point. 

On that, once I stood still, thinking 

my first encounter with life, 

the very first dialogue with dreams 

and prattling commitments to toddler words 

comprised Time. 


Later it revealed- 

The point does not belong to me 

nor to you 

nor to our destiny. 

Road is a rolling illusion 

unfurled live beneath the journey. 


Trail has never abetted a voyager 

to reach anywhere. 

It only puts him on track in perpetuity.  

Meanwhile the voyager forgets his dreams 

his identity  

and the waft that runs his demesne.   

And, finally

the boulevard reaches the destination 

prior to the roadster.  


After I know, there is nowhere to reach 

all roads are the same.  

Any of them would take me 

up to that preordained point 

where History misses itself 

Again and again. 




I have stood for long 

on the line of illumination 

being a bridge between day and night 

And have earned my tears 

in bargain with God 

for arbitration between right and wrong. 


My tears often looked unreal 

since they did not speak of 

the pain and miseries, 

those the world knows. 

Many nights I sat in silence 

staring at the starry sky 

wondering if the world was inverted 

Or it was I. 


My solitude has buried in its crypt, countless questions

They outnumber the stars. 

Today the dead questions are reborn.    

They surround me with new ardour. 

Today, once again, 

in the crowd, I’m alone. 

With a sigh I look up and wonder  

who collected my tears and questions! 

Among the innumerable ones twinkling  

was there a lonesome one too,

who lived my mind, 

sharing with me Space and Time!  



Who knows for how long 

these waves have been dragging into ocean 

births, deaths, memories and events, 

leaving behind

the eternal precepts!


How many desperate attempts to arrest time 

have receded with the waves 

How many showers from hearts,

how many stories 

have been soaked by sand! 

Inside the seashell 

Sitting still are the lost youth of dreams, promises 

and awaited moments. 


After collecting the remains of countless scattered accounts 

Could the ocean remain only ocean!  

It is also the solution of 

centuries’ sob and tears of heaven. 


After carving on its chest 

The fading footprints of so many recitals 

Could sand remain only sand! 

Look deep!  

Here lying the preview of time to pass!


Sushri Sangita Mishra  

Share this post
Share on facebook
Share on twitter
Share on linkedin
Share on pinterest
Share on email
Share on whatsapp

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.