The word 'Choice' has many meanings. The dictionary defines Choice as the right, power or opportunity to choose.
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.
I would like to begin this post by saying that the argument I put forth is after having watched the entire documentary made by Leslie Udwin.
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”.
My deepest thoughts and strongest desires
My heartfelt wishes and passionate fires
Come in and sit down, feel welcome and stay
I’m not complaining of a heartache today.
A single’s guide to Valentines Day It’s that time of the year again where roses, red hearts and squishy stuff toys take over everything.
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.
We’ve all experienced it. Irrespective of our orientation, whether Straight, bi, gay or queer. It hurts every time.
My baby boy is 3! It seems like yesterday, when we brought him home from the hospital.
the politics of fucking, understandably –
I soon found out my "girlish" friend was gay. I was cool with it. It explained what was wrong with him. Little did I know how “wrong” I was.
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.
Is he a boy or a girl.
A half woman, not man enough.
She is faking it, he is not for real
They is not themselves.
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
Being an openly gay film maker, he has ensured visibility of queers in his stories and done so in the most authentic manner possible.
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.