Author Archives: victoranish

About victoranish

A theatre worker living in Bangalore.

soldiers, women, trees

They yell and shriek And tell – how I must love A soldier, a woman, a tree Their eyes spew flames Their mouths explode A million lies A million miles Without a smile They yell and shriek And tell – … Continue reading

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The art of grieving

Have I forgotten, I wonder… how to cry, how to miss my lover in the dead of night. I wonder if I have grown wise and forgotten the whys of that sinking feeling, that dull aching, that growing warmth at … Continue reading

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Shifts

Psychedelic lights pierce the darkness with throbbing regularity. Bodies, like worms agitated by the smell of deodorants succumbing to sweat. Smoke hangs in the sour and pungent air like a viscous fluid. Stubbornly resisting the flailing bodies. A memory streaks … Continue reading

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in the wind

it rains the grass bends helping tears flow the earth moist fragrance flutters like a feather in the wind  

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The quiet

The little voice whispered again, “Why are you so quiet?” He lay silently, wrapped in her arms. Two plaited bodies. “So…?” the voice again. “So?” he sighed. “What are you waiting for?” asked the voice. She shifted, and he with … Continue reading

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A world mistaken

Some times, it feels like I live in a world mistaken… a world where silence is mistaken for cowardice, and talking mistaken for knowledge; belligerence mistaken for uprightness, the honest mistaken to be naive; a few mistaken to represent a … Continue reading

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You and I

You say that I forget And I say you remember When we meet We sit You trying to forget Me trying to remember

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waiting

I sat amidst the wailing cicadas, the green overpowering my senses. There was no other sound, the only shift in the view was the occasional cloud rolling down the hill. I did not know how long I had been there… … Continue reading

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C.lock

In order to sense this story a bit differently I suggest you read out aloud the bits in italics. The rest, you can read in your mind. There was a little boy who lived on a narrow, crowded street. His … Continue reading

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That’s that

And? That’s that… Just like that? Yes… Nothing else? Nothing. I don’t like silence. I hate noise. But speaking isn’t noise. Most times, it is exactly that. Noise? Yes. And you think silence… is silent? Most times, it is not… … Continue reading

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