What happens when an ancient darkness meets a light that refuses to yield? Not a flicker, but a blaze—a force that demands to be seen. Shubhadip Mishra’s The Day I Felt the Sun delves into this confrontation, a poetic meditation on despair, redemption, and the elusive power of illumination.

Building on the acclaim of his debut, Whispers from Tokyo, Mishra ventures inward, exploring the fragile interplay between shadow and glow. At its core is a solitary ruler of shadows, so consumed by the night that the very notion of light feels intrusive, even hostile. Yet, into this realm of isolation comes a lantern, steady and unyielding, carried by an enigmatic figure.

“It’s about contrast—how we cling to our shadows even when we long for the sun” Mishra reflects.

The Interview: Searching for the Sun

Q: The Day I Felt the Sun is steeped in metaphor. Why choose light and darkness as your primary themes?

Because they’re universal. Darkness is not just the absence of light; it’s an active force—doubt, fear, stagnation. Light, meanwhile, is not always gentle. It’s illuminating, yes, but also confrontational. This interplay fascinates me. We fear the light because it shows us the truth, and yet we need it to move forward.

Q: Your protagonist seems reluctant to face the light. Why?

He’s ruled the night for so long that the light feels like an invasion. But more than that, it’s the vulnerability light demands. To let yourself be seen—to let someone else shine a lantern into your shadows—is terrifying. He has to confront not just the darkness, but the reasons he clings to it.

Q: Who brings the lantern?

Ah, the lantern-bearer. They are the story’s mystery. A mortal, fragile yet fearless, walking into the domain of shadows with nothing but a light. They’re not a savior. They’re more of a catalyst—a presence that makes the protagonist question his own existence.

Q: Why does the lantern-bearer remain unnamed for so much of the story?

Because names bring familiarity, and I didn’t want that. This person isn’t there to be understood right away. Their presence is a question: Who dares to enter the dark with a light? What drives them? The anonymity forces both the protagonist and the reader to grapple with these questions.

Q: Is this figure based on someone in real life?

(He pauses.) Yes. They arrived in my life quietly, without fanfare, but completely altered its trajectory. At first, they seemed unassuming—a steady, calming presence. Over time, I realized their light wasn’t in what they did, but in who they were.

Q: What changed for you when they appeared?

They didn’t try to change me. They simply existed, unapologetically, and that presence became a mirror. It reminded me of things I had forgotten: how to feel, how to hope, how to step forward even when the path seemed lost.

Q: Can you tell us more about this person?

Her name is Pragya. She didn’t just inspire the lantern-bearer; she is the lantern. But what makes her extraordinary isn’t effort—it’s authenticity. She didn’t try to be a hero. She didn’t need to. Her light came from her being, not her doing.

Q: Do you think readers will relate to her?

I hope so. Pragya isn’t just a character; she’s an archetype. She’s the reminder we all need—that even in our darkest moments, there are people who carry light into our lives, whether we see it or not. And perhaps, she’s a call to action—an invitation for us to become lantern-bearers ourselves.

Q: If you could describe the book in one sentence?

It’s about how a single soul carrying a lantern reminded me—and perhaps all of us—that light, however fragile, is always possible.

 The Day I Felt the Sun doesn’t just tell a story; it invites readers into their own. For those who have

wandered in the dark, it is a reminder that light can appear when least expected—and that sometimes, it’s okay to let someone else carry the lantern. For inquiries and interviews, contact @shubhadipmishra on Instagram.