How is it like to lose a devil but not lose love

~Neha Lekhak

you were nothing but the rude voices 
the clashing of swords and staves

you broke me so hard 
i had to vent it out 
played with my heart 
for you to curse me 
with every nook and corner
your will
would ever have to offer to me 

oh love
you should have believed me
when i had said,
"i am your little girl 
and you are
my favorite bonhomie"

i would forever hate to let you go 
i had tried with all my might 
but couldn't leave you alone 

as time savored my broken parts
my character had to take off
her unrelenting costume 
and unyielding face mask
the way you killed and shattered 
each of my nerves apart 

until i couldn't consume myself within 

the fierce and lawless that you were 
the fierce and lawless that you turned
(me into)

i created chances
for you to blow me out and leave me 
the only golden moments to go fleeting 

a compassion beyond pain
and only 
if i had an umbrella 
for my difficult moments 

the way you let me stand out in the cold 
darling, i would tell you,
"you are deficient in reading me
and oh so adequately!
you failed me yet again, and miserably so."

The Complete Man!

‘Are you straight?’ I asked bluntly after a couple of minutes of formal talk, as his way of speaking sounded a bit different to me.

‘You mean?’

‘I mean, I don’t know how to ask this in the right way. But are you a full-man?’ I asked like an uneducated moron. I thought of him as a Hijra, at first.

To which, he laughed a little. Thank God, I thought, that I had not offended him.

‘Yes, yes. I’m a full-man who likes full-men. Which means I’m a gay,’ he said like being a gay is perfectly normal and he’s not ashamed of it.

‘Haha, alright.’ I said. ‘If you don’t mind, may I extend this topic a bit more?’


‘What’s like being gay in India. I mean, start with your family, if you don’t mind. Do they know about you? And do they support you on that?’

‘They know, yes. They know who I am. And do they support me? Partially. They’ve not thrown me out of their house despite knowing I’m a gay. So they support me on that. But that’s only one part of the story.’

‘They won’t let me be with a boy for the rest of my life. They say—’ he said, stuttering, yet trying to sound perfectly okay, ‘They say— after you’ll get married to a girl, your interests will shift.’

‘And what about the way you walk and the way you speak? What about that?’

‘They say it will change, too.’

‘Oh!’ I said. Refraining from saying anything against his parents. ‘And do you have any boyfriend? I mean, only if you’re comfortable talking about this one, too.’

‘Oh, that’s completely okay to me. People seldom take any interest in my life. Maybe you’re the first one with such hell of a curiosity. So feel free to ask me anything you want. And about my relationship status: Yes, I do have a boyfriend.’

‘You’re kind, I really appreciate you for saying that. And now I suppose I ought to resume my bombarding questions at you, right?’ I chuckled.

‘Why not!’ he said cheerfully.

‘Okay. So what about your boyfriend? He supports you and all?’

‘He loves me. That’s for sure. No doubt in that. But he says he can’t accept me in a male’s body for the rest of his life.’ my gay-friend said matter-of-factly, and continued, ‘My boyfriend says if I want to spend my future with him, I need to have a woman’s body, going through whatever surgery possible.’

What the hell? I said to myself.

I gulped down the air to mull over what I’ve just heard, again. Bloody sexist, I thought of his boyfriend. And just when I was all set to curse his boyfriend, no matter how wrong I might seem to him, the phone was cut down.

By the company.

The time limit to the call was over.

~ Sahil Lakhmani

Meant To Be Together…

~ Writix

You asked me the possibilities of us parting ways. I looked into your eyes, put my hand on your cheeks, and told you that the possibilities were many, since life is unpredictable but somethings are just meant to be together, like us and that it is not necessary that things always have to go different ways, because somethings last forever, if you make them to.

Falling for you, Once Again

~ Sahil Lakhmani

He never gave up on her.

She never gave up on him.

It’d be better if it was a story of two people instead of three.

He gathered courage, they met finally. He carried a ring, and she, her wedding card.

Turmeric on her hands, and a slit on his wrist. Every morning he promised himself to let her go. Every night it was his pen, paper and her, again.

Finally he rested his pen, took one last look at her wedding photo and jumped out of the window. “Falling for you, once again.”, the suicide note read.