This editorial is part of Ananke's 10th anniversary special edition celebrating the platform's work. You can view the eZine here.
a haze of red
blind
A Libretto for a wisp like single ? being presence shadow thought gesture able to float on toes made movement made dance made light made blur made absence.
Or an ode to a grieving angel
caught
in the glare of spotlights
a blind moon
steps on to the stage
something
resembling the ghost of Hamlet’s father
shuffles past
faint
footsteps whisper
walk red candle
let sleep echo an anxious door
midnight spills a glass
of purple wine
a grieving angel drags her wings
behind her
the light changes
from crimson to steel blue
speechless eyes
locked
in battle
with eyes
overhead shower of red
snakes slither
the bolder amongst them
sucks his lip
the slumped figure
already a memory against the darkening blue
blackout
the trees
lose their colour
burnt stumps
as if
something
errant smoke
above a barren stage
wait
listen remember
enter Macbeth
lying upon a stone slab
naked
in the cold blind
riveted by his own nightmare
shaft of cold
light
bursts
through doors furious
as it climbs up the wall
raging with anger
trapdoors rise from the stage floor
plunge world
into fog
backlit
utter
darkness
the woman
stares
into a twilight with empty sockets
drain the colour
from the text
no longer flutter flags
of defeat
swiftly as it all began
it ends
bleeding white
a past that continues to haunt
defeated
the figure trembles
heavy with memory
whispers
from an exhausted throat
enter Lear
silhouetted against a darkening horizon
multiple mourners
mourn their own deaths
shadow puppets
relentless keening
crisscross crevices
swallow everything in their wake
the mountain
hesitates before the earthquake
before
it tears its heart out
an actor prepares
feet anchored against the furies
eyes
balled up into fists
against the wind
the rain the snow the ice
head neck shoulders and
back taut
the actor prepares
steady flame
a hint of flicker
like a murmur suppressed
the golden light
lingers
listening to the footfall of leaves
pause
among the words
strewn across the stage
the stirrings of revolt
an entire alphabet rising
these fists
gently opening fingers
each thought
in the act of erasing itself
the moon
charred wood
caught in the light of a candle’s flame
her throat so white
from the edge of the stage
stretched
the vast and empty heath
a palpable emptiness
broken
by memory
her gaze
as barren as the land
lit
by a chilly bleakness
feet
weighed down by afterthought
the light
reluctantly rises
as if
from the step-well of her anguish
a scream
the hour
when nothing but
desire
moves
a quiver in the air
walking barefoot
over the grave
her breath
a passing shudder
trampling
the light
aluminum thunderclap
beyond
the swaying gauze
the illusion of an entire city
in flames
under the guise of daylight
the retreating shadows
devour
armed with a fishnet
she lay in ambush
waiting to catch the first light
advancing
whiplash
like ice exploding
drowns
an entire winter scene
whittled
spikes
hover overhead
so many guillotines
the sun
drops orange
against a sky
washed
by a bank of blue lights
mimic rain
walks slowly
into a large doorway
smoky white light
engulfed in snow
blends
the salmon pink
with golden amber
sparks
fly in the wind
fires yet to be lit
hold their breath
the dawn
hesitates
there
where
the shadows gather
a night bathing
in a silver mirror
row of red candles
wait
in the wings
to be lit
the dark halts in its tracks
abrupt
beams of light
scorch the earth
the wind transfixed
taken aback at the bend
solitary figure
silenced
Lear
cloud of feathers
the angel
steps out of her wings
in a play about paradise
a slow and imperceptible fall
the light
beginning to lose itself
quivers
and waits
the shadows
bob up and down
drift
seawards
dazzle darkness
step into a forest
of lights
wires cables stands
a sea of thousand-watt lamps
the storm dresses in
orange light
silver flashes
deep rumbling blues
thunder
unceasing cycle
the black encircles
the white
encircles the black encircles white
giddiness
in slow motion
miscued
the morning light
caught in the act
removing
the
hurriedly discarded night
stumps of wax
at the foot of the cross
burnt
offerings
await the miracle
the shadow sits hunched
over embers
shivering
the fire long burnt out
nothing
more devastating
then an empty stage
awaiting footfalls
the stage bathed in red
the bride picks her way
among the dead
collecting burnt candle stumps
surrounded
by blinding light
she shuts her eyes
proceeds
to interrogate herself
light changes
a pond a mirror a mirrored pond
howl howl howl
her death
roots above their heads
three wise women
chalk his course
upside down
omen
blue and purple clouds
separate
the stage floor
from the skies
floating on its back
the yellow cardboard moon
gazes
fading in the dawn
light the air around them
the actors
so that they may drift
in
and drift out
of the dark
the cotton snow
sticks to the driftwood
on hand-painted beaches
as you imagine the ebb and
flow
of the corrugated sea
grieving
she took her grief
to the centre of the stage
then let it slide
on to the floorboards
and here it lay
this overwhelmed grief
and there
where the sun
lay down roots for the night
stood a woman
daring it to set
somewhere
at the bottom or
just below
lay the light
waiting
for the night
to make a mistake
at the edge of the stage
soaked in beams of white
they refused to come
the tears
despite all the instructions
in his book of acting
eyes mist over
smoke so blue
its edges tinged in lilac
soon the lamps will be lit
cold wind
stifles the song of the flute
from a forgotten poem
as the drizzle
turns to frost
shadows hold the ground
under siege
brush the autumn leaves
brush
the world spread open
spilling its insides
over a sharp-edged sword
rivers of blood
a haze of red
blind
spirals downwards
into the earth
one big swirl
wind light
rustling leaves
whispers
the hush gathers
darken the stage for evil to enter
enter evil
gather
murmurs
sleep has been murdered
yet again
speech piles up
words cram into space as tiny
as large as
memory
the sun scatters
its emissaries
soon
the actor will
find utterance
his ability
to separate sound from echo
meaning rising
like the phoenix
from between the lines
words
stretch them taut
let them become voice
stubborn
words
stricken with remorse
fearing
the death of language
unfettered
room flooded with light
from a candle
sinking into its wax
About Naveen Kishore:
Naveen Kishore is a theater lighting designer, photographer, poet, publisher and founder of Seagull Books which was established in1982. Under Kishore’s direction, Seagull has published English translations of more than 500 books by major African, European, Asian, and Latin American writers. In 2005, Kishore launched Seagull Books London to reach a wider international readership. Six years later, in 2011, he expanded the organization further, establishing the Seagull School of Publishing with the aim of training the next generation of publishers, editors, and book designers in India. For his contribution to publishing, Kishore has been made a Chevalier de l’ordre des Arts et des Lettres (2014) by the government of France and received the Goethe Medal from the Federal Republic of Germany (2013). In 2021, he was recognized by Words Without Borders with the Ottaway Award for the Promotion of International Literature. He also became the first recipient of Cesare De Michelis Prize, awarded by independent Venetian publisher Marsilio Editori—in conjunction with the Ca’ Foscari University of Venice for outstanding publishing projects. Kishore’s works of poetry Knotted Grief and Mother Muse Quintet have been published by Speaking Tiger with the former being translated and published in several countries.
