Never at a loss for love or words 

The only thing she ever trusted was love. It was the one thing that never let her down. Nothing compared to the feeling of desirability in something or someone, that this emotion managed to bring.
Shivangi Tewari
Shivangi Tewari

The only thing she ever trusted was love. It was the one thing that never let her down. Nothing compared to the feeling of desirability in something or someone, that this emotion managed to bring. It set her in a euphoric tizzy every time she was in its grips. At that very moment, when poetess Shivangi Tewari began to explore ways to express the yearnings of her craving heart, she was greeted by the universe of words that acted as vehicles of communication. It made it clear to her that love had her wrapped around its little fingers and to understand its mysticism better, she dived into this transcendental experience to find wholeness for herself. Sharing a little essence in it is she, with a Hindustani poetry and storytelling evening called Dastaan-e-Maaya. 

Maaya is Tewari’s alter ego, more formally used as her stage name. Through Maaya, the poetess dreams. Understanding where love emerges from and how it plays out in our lives, Maaya traverses through the emotion’s sacrosanct stance. “Maaya is self-love. She epitomises a woman who doesn’t know what love is but eventually finds it within herself. This romantic heart is a big fan of Amrita Pritam. Maaya dances, cries, burns her emotions, and ignites them again only to dig deeper into the ocean of love,” says Tewari.

More than a wanderer, Maaya is a seeker, thirsty for true love, but in the end she realises that someone who can love her best is herself, she shares. 

It was her love for English and dislike for mathematics that made Tiwari write more. She describes the idea of finding freedom through love as Peeli Aazadi, a poem she wrote identifying freedom with the colour yellow with. However, amidst the overpowering influence of technology and subsequent dependency issues as a result of it, it seems people have forgotten to enjoy the smaller joys of life like listening to poetry or ruminating about romance. “My poem allows the audience to see a unique perspective of love. It will help bring back the depth that a topic as subtle as love deserves, as it must be understand through a sense of ultimate emancipation and not remorse,” says Tiwari, who is writing her next show called Sita-The Warrior Princess. 

Dastan-ae-Maaya is a show that started a few months back. It has had a cathartic effect on people with them submitting to love more openly than before. Tewari recalls how, during its staging the first time, people cried because they had rejected love for too long, or worse, hadn’t understood it. She later found that most of those who suppressed their feelings, emerged with the strongest love after  listening to Maaya. “When you walk down the road of love, you are bound to experience both pain and pleasure. But, that’s where we begin to confine it. Love is subjective and free.        

What she is today is largely because of two very special men in her life. They are filmmaker Imtiaz Ali, who she calls her mentor, and Ankit Chadha a celebrated Dastango who lost his life recently. She is indebted to their grace. 

She has kept herself snug with the warmth of Faiz Ahmad Faiz, Firaq Gorakhpuri, Amrita Pritam and poet Mir Taqi Mir’s words. Unfortunately, she feels, people don’t understand their poems because the new generation fears love too much. “They view vulnerability as a weakness. But if you want to love, you must surrender. That’s when you won’t need Tinder to find the right casual one,” she says. November 18: Akshara Theatre, 11B, Baba Kharak Singh Marg, at 6 pm onwards.

Quickly then...
A chore you hate doing? Cooking
If you had the world’s attention for 30 seconds, what would you say? 
Love yourself  
If you lost your words? 
I’ll die
Something we misunderstand about poetry? That it can be learnt 
How do you remain poetic? By listening to music, reading, taking long walks on my favourite roads
What leads to misery? 
Self-depreciation 

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The New Indian Express
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