Once upon a time you carried your heart on a sleeve
And now, the sleeve is shorter.
Above everything, you are a phone number.
Having been brought up in a typical Punjabi household, I was somewhat fearful of coming out to my father.
I wrote this at a time when I could only turn to the internet while I was coming to terms with my sexuality.
I miss her sometimes. It's like a sucker punch in one’s stomach.
How can I live blindly believing that things will actually get better, when I see nothing actually changing?
She's a straight woman, and take it from me, impossible love isn't as romantic as it sounds.
“Don’t cry now. Rage! Rage against the callous insensitivity of the system, my friend.”
I was walking down the street,
When an uncle did I meet,
He said, “O girl!
You are like a sweet pearl!
Almost everyday I hear and see people and friends around me use the terms 'gay', 'fag', 'faggot' in a criminal sense
Should I tell you that the poem was created because I am a girl and sometimes, I fall in love with girls and often, I write about them?
So after my many misadventures with gay women in India, I decided to give men a chance.
I regretted coming to the Gaysi Family's Read Out Loud (ROL) event almost instantly.
Only a week in Bombay was enough to make me really reconsider my parameters of fear.
Life after becoming an adult is what people crave for right? The excitement of turning 18 is what every teen awaits for right?
Last Sunday was hell all over again, rushing my father to the hospital and he was there on a ventilator again.
And much to my surprise, I was informed that I was being set up with the friend of my girl friend’s friend.
When I was a child, one of my favourite activities was re-decorating my room and the little altar I had in celebration of Hindu festivals.
For a gay Indian woman who has lived most of her coming out years abroad, coming back to India can be pretty daunting – I have done that once.
A blue collared worker in the train bullied a hijra while a couple of others were laughing at his "jokes".