Everyday of my life
I thank God for what I am grateful for
With all the challenges thrown at you
Battles become your core.
Let me touch you one last time
Touch you while I can
While my body is still warm
While my love for you still beats in my heart
Margarita With A Straw brings to the world a fresh breath of air to accept and love people, the way they are.
I took my father out for dinner. We ordered some appetizers, I was going to tell him right away.
What I discovered while exploring the gay community at that time was that my gay identity and South Asian identity were mutually exclusive.
Today you fought your last fight against a brutal disease. Given how this country and its justice system have treated you, I personally believe that you are in a better place.
A bunch of us were drinking at the Dhaba near college. It was a girls’ night out.
How I longed to have the guts to ask her for her number. But all I manage to say is, “I’ll see you around sometime”.
I love my intuitions, love impulsions, and also thrive on it. I owe the most beautiful experiences of my life to my emotional self.
I wonder if I will ever wear beautiful dress or suit,
I wonder if my family will ever be there,
I wonder if their eyes would be filled with love or disappointment,
I wonder, if I ever say 'I do' will anyone be there?
Five years of denial. Five years of confusion. Five years of analysing my feelings and myself to death.
Wherever you are, but to say ‘wherever’ would be incorrect, I do know where you are.
They call India a democracy – where the men in power are ‘representatives’ of the society, where people can speak their minds, where people are ‘free’ – to do what they like, when they like it.
My baby boy is 3! It seems like yesterday, when we brought him home from the hospital.
This was my way of finding out what I am. Trust me, no one came to help me!
The more I throw myself out there, the more I end up analysing the "right" and "wrong" of it.
All my life I wrote about boys
But I looked at girls a certain way
Boys, I dated, yes, I did
But only girls managed to take my breath away
I wonder who I am now. Gay? Or did I think I was one. Am I Straight? Or did I learn to think that I am supposed to be someone over these eight years.
I want to kiss your scars till they close,
fold under your impossibly warm skin that turns freezing cold
as soon as the first hit of Delhi winter creeps under my quilt.
‘Slut’ is what I am supposed to feel like when I went for a routine check up to a doctor two days ago and was molested by him.