Laksh Maheshwari's storytelling casts a spell at Shillong's inaugural Spoken Fest

The air was crisp, almost biting, as Ward's Lake in Shillong prepared for its inaugural Spoken Fest. Amidst the gloomy afternoon, a lone figure stood out - Laksh Maheshwari, draped in a long black overcoat, a white kurta with intricate black prints, and a muffler that seemed to dance with the cold breeze. But what truly stood out was his smile - a pleasant, infectious smile that seemed to light up not just his face, but the entire surrounding landscape. His signature beauty spot on the left side of his chin added a touch of character to his already magnetic presence.

“Kahani sunna chaoge?” (Do you want to listen to stories?) The question hung in the air, brimming with possibility.

The Accidental Storyteller

“Most things in life happen by accident,” Laksh shared with India Today NE, his eyes twinkling with a mix of humility and excitement. His storytelling journey wasn't a meticulously planned career but a beautiful happenstance. A writer by profession, he initially started sharing stories on social media because someone suggested he needed an online presence.

“I just put a couple of stories up, and people really loved it,” he recalled. What started as a casual experiment transformed into a full-fledged storytelling career within just one and a half years. Shows across the world captivated audiences, and a growing fan base followed.

Decoding Stories Beyond the Surface

Laksh's unique talent lies in his ability to peel back layers - whether it's in songs, historical narratives, or folk tales. Take music, for instance. For him, songs are not just melodies but intricate narratives waiting to be understood.

He spoke passionately about the song "Agar Tum Saath Ho" from the movie Tamasha, a perfect example of his storytelling magic. “Recently I had the pleasure of interviewing Imtiaz Ali ji and even he confirmed that Ved's character is wearing beige to represent the brain, and Tara is in red to symbolise the heart,” he explained.

“The song, sung by Alka Yagnik and Arijit Singh, became more than just a musical piece - it became a conversation between heart and brain, between logic and emotion,” he added.

The Descendants: A Literary Adventure

Laksh’s literary journey is equally fascinating. During the COVID-19 pandemic, he co-authored "The Descendants," a book that traces the lineage of Arjun from Mahabharata. But this wasn't just another historical fiction.

"I actually met the descendants," he revealed. A small family of Somavanshis in Uttar Pradesh, farmers who claim direct lineage from Arjun. Laksh spent seven days with them, absorbing their stories, and their history.

The book weaves a fictional narrative around the idea that just as the Pandavas once ruled the world, their descendants might rise again to prominence. It’s a blend of mythology, speculation, and imaginative storytelling that has become Laksh's trademark.

Amplifying Unsung Heroes

One of Laksh’s most admirable qualities is his commitment to bringing lesser-known talents into the spotlight. From music directors like Sandesh Shandilya to original singers often overshadowed by actors, he believes in celebrating the creative minds behind the scenes.

“When a movie is made, over 200 people contribute,” he explained. “It’s not just about the director or the actors. There are so many creative minds whose stories need to be told.”

Spoken for the Unspoken

The performance area looked nothing like a traditional stage. Just a simple spread of colourful mats and tiny wooden stools, muras scattered across Ward's Lake. Kids in woollen caps sat next to elderly Khasi women, university students squeezed between local families - everyone waiting, expectant.

Laksh didn't stay on the raised platform. He moved.

He walked down, stepped between the mats, stood cross-legged sometimes, and stood close to people other times. His voice raw and direct.

When he started the story of Satya and Kahani, something shifted in the atmosphere. People stopped fidgeting. Children stopped whispering. Even the December wind seemed to pause and listen.

Two sisters. A metaphor that would soon unfold with such raw emotion that the audience would forget they were listening to a performance.

His hand moved. Not dramatically but precisely; each gesture telling part of the story. He'd lean forward, voice dropping to a whisper for a secret moment. Then suddenly expands, filling the space with emotion. “Do behnein thi aur dono thi bala ki khoobsurat.”

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Everybody’s attention was completely transfixed.

Then came the tale of ka Ngot and ka Iam - a Khasi folk story of Umngnot and Umiam that danced between myth and reality.

“These are not just stories,” Laksh said midway. “These are lessons and conversations we've forgotten we know.” He wasn't performing. He was connecting. Every person there felt like he was speaking directly to them. No distance. No barrier.

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When he finished, there was a moment of complete silence. Then applause. But not polite applause. The kind that comes from being genuinely moved. One story melted into another. The narratives brought wave after wave of emotion. People were no longer just listeners. They were participants in something magical.

Kids who couldn't have been more than seven were sitting absolutely still. Teenagers had put their phones away. Older folks were leaning forward, catching every word.

When it finally ended, nobody wanted to move. The spell took time to break. “More?” someone whispered. And others nodded.

Laksh just smiled. That smile seemed to hold entire universes of stories.

When asked how he would describe Shillong through a song, Laksh laughed. "Suraj Hua Maddham," he said. Why? Because in his two-day stay, he hadn't seen the sun once. The song of a muted sun, much like the misty landscape of Shillong itself.

So, it was just another day. Just another performance. But anyone there would tell you - it was anything but ordinary.

Two stories. Twenty minutes. A lifetime of memories created.

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