Love stories don’t always have to be about finding someone. They can be about finding a version of yourself you thought you’d lost. In Ishq Hai, poet and spoken-word artiste Priya Malik chases that feeling — of handwritten letters, lingering silences and conversations uninterrupted by notifications. As the acclaimed show arrives in Hyderabad for its final chapter, Priya reflects on why she’s choosing to end it while it still feels truthful, the difference between performing from a scar instead of an open wound, and why poetry isn’t about remembering every line but every feeling it leaves behind.
Excerpts:
You describe Ishq Hai as a search for “1999 in 2026.” Are people longing for slower love, or simply romanticising a time they never lived through?
I think we’re longing for how that time felt. We miss eye contact, anticipation and waiting for replies instead of watching someone type. I’m not looking for the past — I’m looking for presence, and I think all of us, in some way, are.
Why was it important to give Ishq Hai an ending?
I don’t want to outgrow something while still holding on to it. I created this show in a very different phase of my life. Since then, I’ve travelled the world with it, become a mother and evolved as a writer. I’d rather leave while every performance still feels honest than perform from memory instead of truth. Endings are beautiful — they make us grateful.
Your poems are deeply personal. When does a private memory become something you’re ready to share?
Writing has always been therapy before art. I never perform from an open wound; I perform from a scar. Whether it’s heartbreak, miscarriage or divorce, I’m not asking the audience to heal me. I’m inviting them to heal with me.
When building a show like this, what comes first — the poem, the story or the emotion?
Always the emotion. I’m not interested in just writing a good poem; I’m interested in creating a feeling. Sometimes that needs poetry, sometimes silence and sometimes Tanmay Maheshwari’s (the show’s live musician) music says more than I ever could.
What can spoken word offer that a 30-second reel can’t?
A reel can entertain you, but a live poem accompanies you.People may not remember every line, just as we don’t remember every conversation. We remember how someone made us feel. Poetry works the same way.
Does performing in Hyderabad feel different?
Absolutely. Hyderabad has listened to poetry long before I arrived. People here understand tehzeeb, pauses and even silence. You don’t have to rush — you can trust the audience, and that’s a gift.
What feeling do you hope Hyderabad takes home from Ishq Hai?
Softness. We spend so much of our lives trying to become stronger, but softness isn’t the opposite of strength. Sometimes it’s the highest form of it.
Your language feels simple yet profound. Is that intentional?
I edit a lot. Most of my writing process is deleting words. I ask myself, “Would my mother understand this?” If the answer is no, I haven’t finished writing. I don’t want my poems to sound intelligent — I want them to sound familiar.
What do you hope first-time audiences leave with?
I hope they don’t leave talking about me. I hope they leave talking about themselves. If my words become a bridge to someone else’s memories, then I’ve done my job. I don’t think people come to Ishq Hai just to hear my story. I think they come to remember their own.
Tickets start at ₹499. July 11, 7 pm. At Bhaskara Auditorium, Khairtabad.
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