Short Graphic Story: Medley – Ajeeb Dastan Hai Yeh
This is a story of a girl who falls in love with an ethereal being who literally tears out her heart.
Archive for authorGuest Author
We are always on the lookout for passionate writers. If you want to share your story or want to contribute to Gaysi on any other way, do get in touch.
Short Graphic Fiction: Butterflies
This question took me back all those years ago and I vividly saw her pushing some kid out of the way to crouch down in front of the place he was about to step on.
Experiencing Homophobia In Gender Studies Classroom
When I joined the course, I was excited to share my experiences with the class. But with time I realised not everyone was interested. Most of them didn't interact with me, asked questions, or exchange their experiences.
Hindi Poem: Pillow
Hindi Poem by Shubhshree Mathur.
All Poets Have A Sad Story
If I wasn’t feeling like shit because I was turned on by girls (one girl in particular), I’m sure I would have found something else to hate myself for. I was young, female, loud, and had a body. Society does this to you. It moulds you till you are all soft woundable spots, and then it makes you kick yourself.
The Booth
I tried to remember if the booth on screen is the same booth that I and my partner usually go and get a security check from. I couldn’t recognise it. I stopped thinking and concentrated on the film.
Poem: The Only One
I want to tell him how I feel,
How I struggle to sleep,
That fear of the two letter word,
Makes me weep,
He is The Only One.
Poem: How Do You Know?
how do you know it's girls?
i wonder as my friend comes out to me
how do you know the limit of your love?
and somehow, weird quizzes dragged me all over the internet
Graphic Short Story: My Imaginary Friend
Meera made a friend in the glass case she suffocated in for 25 years.
acatalepsy
The universe tells you nothing.
But when I first laid my eyes upon her left shoulder,
and saw a tiny, black mole
all this logic was gone.
My Closeted Lover
Loving someone who is in the closet taught me how to manage my feelings and changed the way our everyday lives unfolded. I realised that being with someone who is in the closet means respecting them and their privacy, and being supportive.
Poem: Don’t Tell Me To Cut My Hair
An intellectual phenomenon, almost
Ready for you to stare at but never touch
And debate what these clothes mean, this hair, this skin, this nail hanging limply at the end of my
finger
Gay Lib: A Voyeur’s POV
An armchair critic up to the age of 30. I finally decided to take the plunge and come out publicly in 2004. I had been out to close friends and family for a decade. The catalyst for my activism was the Islamist movement and its growing influence within communities like mine in Luton.
Poem: Pink
The luminous room was welcoming,
A place where he was transformed,
Like a phoenix rising from the ashes,
This is where his life reformed.
Being A Muslim Lesbian Of Pakistani Descent
Being the only child was hard for me. Throughout the years, I kept to myself and accepted myself and still felt like I was the only South Asian Muslim in this world.
Pride Ki Kahaani, Do Pyaar Karne Valon Ki Zubaani: A Couple’s Experience Of Pune’s 9th Indradhanu Pride
People putting up the pride flag outside Sambhaji Park where we were to assemble for the pride, community friends hugging each other, I just felt like I was among my people.
Poem: Path To Acceptance
An abnormality he thought,
And then with himself he fought.
He thought of himself as foul,
So god's help he sought.
Short Story: Ghosts Of Ulaua
In some places it rains a bit during the rainy seasons. In some places it rains more, and one cannot see a long way ahead. On some days in Ulaua it rains so hard that one can barely see a few feet ahead - in these seasons, the Ulaua river is always in spate.
Poem: A Naïve Sin
I stand still looking down at your hand holding the knife,
My body is trembling with fear but you want me to pay you with my life.
The spectators want me to plead for forgiveness in this time,
So forgive me, for I didn't know love was a crime.
Poem: From Bindi With Love
A piece of adhesive
Of the colour red.
The scream of a woman -
“Chakka hai ki ladki?”
Her spectacled eyes
Upon my bindi.
