indian-kahani

[indian-kahani]

The Singer and the Motorbike Girl

Chapter 1 - Rati

The room was on fire, and Rati was ablaze.

The teacher standing beside her, holding the audition list in her hand, smiled sympathetically. “Nervous, Rati?”

She smiled back, a little queasily. “I-I guess a little.”

“Don’t worry about it too much. You sing beautifully, anyway. In fact-” she lowered her voice, “-just between the two of us, I’m hoping you get the main part.”

Rati laughed as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks, Sharmila ma’am.” She said appreciatively, “I really hope so too – after all, there’s never been anything like these Diwali celebrations before at our college.”

Sharmila ma’am was about to answer, but just then the door opened and another student walked out, and she paused to wave Rati in.

The fire started again, waves of flame making her cheeks heat up and her stomach lurch with fear. “Hi, Sunita ma’am.”

She nodded respectfully to the teacher overseeing the auditions. “Where should I sit?”

Ms. Sunita was all smiles, her dimples showing prominently. “Ah, Rati!” she waved her to a spot in the middle of the room. “What will you be performing for me today?”

“I sent you a link to the backing track, I think.” She bit her lip, trying to stay calm and ignore the flames licking at the inside of her chest.

“Ah, yes.” Sunita ma’am nodded, directing her attention towards her laptop. “Rati… yes, here we are. You can start whenever you like.”

Rati breathed in and out, listening to the opening beats of the backing track play out, waiting for her cue to begin. She felt as if she were in a haze, in the middle of a lake, trying to control the water in it. Like every note that came from her mouth were draping stillness over the calm waters.

She began to sing, and suddenly, she was calm.

-

Rati stumbled out of the audition as if in a daze, already knowing that she had done well. Better than well, in fact – she had done exceptionally well. A glow spread through her smile, effusive, and she was content for the first time in what felt like days.

She swung her bag over her shoulder, checking the time on her watch. “Oh, come on.” She muttered in annoyance. Five minutes until lectures began, and she was all the way on the other side of campus.

A revving noise brought her back to her senses as she realised she was dangerously close to the edge of the path. Snatching her bag our of the way and shaking her head, she stepped back just as a motorcyclist drew up beside her.

The first thing Rati noticed was that the rider had nice fashion taste. Between an oversized t-shirt and straight, loose jeans, she found herself unable to look away from him.

“Huh… are you all right?”

She was jolted out of her daydream suddenly, blinking at the muffled voice that came from underneath the comically large helmet.

“Wh-what? Sorry, did you say something?” she smiled apologetically, twisting the buckle on her bag strap.

The stranger seemed as if he was about to say something, but stopped. “Fuck, I can’t talk with this helmet on… give me a second.”

He reached up to pull it off, and tousled his hair in an attempt to get it to lay down flat before looking up at her.

Rati’s jaw all but dropped.

"You... you're not a boy."

taglist: @morally-gayy @manujanolavu i thought u guys might like this hehe :) if you wanna be added lmk!

[indian-kahani]

All my life, I have been poison. But for you, my love, I will be an oasis in the middle of a desert.

[indian-kahani]

Understanding is the greatest gift you could give me: so brush my guilt away and see - and love me still after knowing me. That, beloved, is true love.

-Avani

[indian-kahani]

Even after all the love I'm still insecure :P

if you would be so kind as to reblog this if you feel insecure about your writing skills.

[indian-kahani]

Sunrise and sunset; two sides of the same coin.

The same colours (or should I say similar? After all no two are the same) colours painting the sky, streaking colour across the sky’s cheeks in a tenderness unparalleled. the sky blushes pink and then gold; marigold and lilac; magenta lightening to a final calm blue. Sunrise feels like a promise: here is a new day, it whispers, seize it, dear heart. Sunrise breathes in darkness and exhales sunlight. Do something great today, sunrise smiles in pink, and tell me about it at sunset.

Sunset is calm blue darkening to magenta; lilac and marigold; gold and then blushing pink. Sunset is peace and returning home. Sunset is a welcome: did you do something great? Sunset breathes in the light (sometimes light is overwhelming, isn’t it?) and exhales comforting darkness, a blanket of stars. There is always tomorrow, sunset smiles, forgiving, there is always another chance.

[indian-kahani]

We are the earth, and we are eternal. I see rivers in the way your veins are blue under your skin. Rainbows lie in the edges of my smile, and rain in the way your mouth twists when you cry. I see stars in your eyes and you see the sun in mine. Clouds shift across your gaze at night; but I hold your hand, beloved, and the moon sweeps them away. Grass flutters like your hair and sometimes, I find the breeze in the way that you touch the earth so gently. Sand shifts under your skin, and – oh, dear heart – I see the galaxy in our meeting gaze. What lies in our bones is written of in the night sky, destinies intertwined since time began. We are the earth, and we are free. We are the earth – and we are eternal.

[indian-kahani]

ahhhhh thankyou!! i'm super glad you liked it! i've been working through some writer's block lately but i think i can finally beat it now :DDDD

But oh, beloved: your smile is music to me, invisible, unheard: wrapped up in the folds of my heart and smoothed out with meticulous care. Someone once asked me what love was – where it begun, where it ended. I said I didn’t know. But now, I think I am a little wiser. Love is the stars in the night sky and our intertwined hands, shining like twin stars of their own. Love is the ability to hold hands and say us. Love is your smile and my eyes and we are laughing, carefree, unstoppable. Love is us, and we are alive.

@waitingforthesunrise this was inspired by u! thanks for being so awesome and writing cool poetry!

[indian-kahani]

But oh, beloved: your smile is music to me, invisible, unheard: wrapped up in the folds of my heart and smoothed out with meticulous care. Someone once asked me what love was – where it begun, where it ended. I said I didn’t know. But now, I think I am a little wiser. Love is the stars in the night sky and our intertwined hands, shining like twin stars of their own. Love is the ability to hold hands and say us. Love is your smile and my eyes and we are laughing, carefree, unstoppable. Love is us, and we are alive.

@waitingforthesunrise this was inspired by u! thanks for being so awesome and writing cool poetry!

[indian-kahani]

Day 28: Walk of Pride

sorry for not posting in ages guys i was struggling through my writer's block -_- anyway here you go! hope you like it <3 i struggled to write it ngl, idk if I really like it but ah well.

tags: @desi-lgbt-fest, @manujanolavu @morally-gayy @desi-yearning (let me know if you want to be added/removed)

Rati had always been scared to attend a Pride festival.

It felt like admission: yes, I am gay. Yes, I am proud.

Proud of what? What did she have that made her special? She had always been a blank puzzle, with missing pieces that could be scattered anywhere across the globe. How was she supposed to colour herself in rainbow and call it Pride?

Rainbows had always seemed like sad, fickle things to her. Small chinks of happiness that were erased by the sun. That were only possible with the most specific combination of events. Rain, and sunlight slanting exactly the right way.

Then what did that say about herself?

What did that make her?

Delicate? Impossible?

She had always been such a good girl: she sat in the front row. She played two instruments. She handed her work in on time. She didn’t doodle, didn’t gossip, didn’t daydream. Didn’t, didn’t, didn’t. Her entire life had hinged on couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t.

What could she do?

She was named for the Goddess of Love, after all. Then why wasn’t she confident in her own? Did that kind of confidence only come with straight love? Was she really as broken as her mother implied when she talked about lesbians? Every time she felt butterflies in her stomach, she locked them away. The day she called herself gay, she felt something inside her that she hadn’t felt before.

A sense of belonging.

That was the only reason she persevered, if she was being honest. That feeling had lit a flame inside her, a tiny sun of her own.

God knew there was enough rain in her heart. Maybe this little sun would make her own rainbow.

So when she went to college, she kept her head up and a smile on her face. She knocked at the door of the college Pride Club, and when the leader, (‘Padma’, her name tag read) opened it, she plucked up all her courage and asked:

“Excuse me, does this college have a pride event?”

She was half expecting Padma to laugh at her. For her to shoo her away and say that young girls, in their first year at college, didn’t belong at Pride.

Except – that wasn’t what happened at all.

Padma held the door open with a gentle smile and beckoned her in. “Of course! In fact, we have a pride event tomorrow, to mark the end of Pride Month. Do you want to meet the rest of the team?”

Rati hesitated. If she stepped over that line that marked the boundary between corridor and classroom, she would be safe. She could go back to reading in the library and not stirring up a fuss and presenting as ordinary. She could be good little Rati that never stepped out of line, just like she had been for the last seventeen years.

But something inside her was tired of being good. A little voice (her namesake, perhaps?) whispered to her that perhaps it was time to try being bad for a change.

And so, she offered a radiant smile for what she hoped to find in that room.

“I would love to.”

Pride Club was not like what she had expected at all. In fairness, though, she didn’t know what she’d expected. Whatever it was, it wasn’t this.

Ten to fifteen students lounged around the classroom, eating their lunch and chattering playfully with each other. Padma, perhaps sensing that she was getting a little shyer, put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Guys!” she called to make herself heard over the chatter. “Oi! Guys!”

Everyone turned to look at her, and Rati dropped her gaze to the ground at their subtle scrutiny. “This is our new member, Rati,” Padma gestured to her. “Be nice, all right?”

“Hi, Rati!” A short girl with choppy bangs grinned at her. “I’m Anshika, Padma’s favourite-” she lowered her voice, winking as if divulging a secret, “-and only – girlfriend!”

Padma blushed. “Shut up.”

“H-Hi, Anshika-ji.” Rati managed to smile shyly at her.

“I’m Khushi!”

“Anshuman.”

“Hey! Ravi here.”

As they made their introductions, something settled in Rati’s heart that had been fluttering around inside of her. She allowed the smile on her face to settle. This… this felt nice.

The next day, it took far less courage to show up to the Pride event.

This is it. She thought. I’m finally admitting it.

She held her flag tightly, and when the moment came, waved it high in the air. For once, the rainbow seemed strong, invincible. More than a trick of the light.

This felt like belonging.

This was her family.

This was her place.

And this was her pride.

hope you guys like it! feel free to tell me what you think in reblogs/comments etc :]

@desi-lgbt-fest

[indian-kahani]

There are nights that I feel so calm because look, there are two stars in the night sky. look, they are so close. look, they are you and me. we live among stars and dance on this spinning earth. don't just look at them, see them. isn't it wonderful?

[indian-kahani]

Handwritten Love

Dear Mom.

I’m sorry. I know I wasn’t the best child. I was trouble, I was angry, I was scared. I was, I was, I was. I was always so stuck in the past that I forgot to focus on the future, forgot to look around me in the present and see the colours in the sky. I’m sorry, mom. I know I wasn’t easy to raise. I always needed to ask so many questions. What is this sadness inside me? Am I okay, mom? I wish I could see past this into who I am, but where do put all this pain? Your hands were always there to guide me but now they’re gone I feel so alone. Tell me what to do, mom.

I need you.

I wish you were still here.

I know apologies can’t reverse what’s been said and done, and out of all of us I have the most blood on my hands, so to speak. If saying sorry could fix anything then sorry would be the only word I would speak for the rest of my life.  

But alas, apologies only mend what is there to be mended.

And you’ve been gone for years.

So instead of saying sorry I wanna say something different. The words I never said to you when you were still alive, I want to say to you now even though you’re not here to hear them.  

I love you, Mom.

And if you ever need me, I’m here for you. Forever and always.

-by Avani, [16.06.23]

taglist: @manujanolavu @morally-gayy (if you want to be added/removed pls tell me!)

[indian-kahani]

Day 12: The First in my Family to:

Tagging: @desi-lgbt-fest, @desi-yearning @morally-gayy @manujanolavu - someone suggested me to do a taglist, and these are just the people that have interacted most with my writing so yeah! if you want to be tagged/removed from the taglist then no worries, just dm me :]

You know, Amma, same-sex marriage was legalised yesterday.

(Although, since your daughter is one of those, I’m sure you know that already)

I can imagine your reaction, Amma. I think you set down your teacup with a deep sigh, and left it to get cold on the sidetable. I can imagine your thought that now I am free to shame the family name even more.

I can imagine Appa slamming his hand on the table and muttering that his daughter was ruined by the internet. I can imagine him commenting on a hate-spreading news story, The Immorals are Free to Marry. I can imagine him storming about the house, tight-lipped, hating what his daughter has always been.

I am the first person to become a doctor in this family, Amma. I am the first person to walk across a stage a student, and walk off of it a doctor.

But, you know what?

I am the first person to be lesbian and out, proud to show the world who I love. I am the first person to hold my lovers hand and walk up the two hundred steps of Jejuri with her, equals through this as through everything else. I am the first person in this family to marry a girl, and sit together on our wedding day, trying to find each others’ names in our mehendi. I am the first person in this family to wear a matching sari to my wife on our engagement day.

Isn’t love more important than money? Isn’t that what you’ve always told me? Does that only apply to me when there is a boy leading me around the wedding fire?

I know you don’t hate me, Amma. Hate the sin, but love the sinner, right?

Well, guess what, Amma?

I am the first person in my family who is ready to stand at the top of Mount Kailash itself, and scream to the world that yes, I am gay. Yes, I am a woman. Yes, I have a wife.

I am the first person in my family to be a woman, and yet kiss one on the lips with passion, unafraid of who we are as long as we are together.

I am the first person in my family to look her parents in the eye and choose my wife over them.

And I am not a sin.

I wanted to write something really badly, but nothing was really flowing so this is quite similar to one of my earlier prompts (day 9, I think it was?) hope you enjoy anyway <3

[indian-kahani]

Being this sweet should be illegal 😭💕

@desi-yearning being too goddamn awesome and sweet again and making me wanna cry: girl you're like 40% of my motivation ily 😭

[indian-kahani]

@desi-yearning being too goddamn awesome and sweet again and making me wanna cry: girl you're like 40% of my motivation ily 😭

[indian-kahani]

Desi LGBT Fest: Day 9 - Perseverance

tagging: @desi-lgbt-fest - I also actually wanted to say a big big big thankyou for making me feel so loved! I was super nervous to get involved but you have reblogged every single one of my posts with the sweetest tags and it really means a lot &lt;3

i've already tagged her at the bottom of the post but also for @tumhari-bhairavi, you've been the sweetest about all my writing &lt;333

Dear Amma,

I’m leaving for college tonight. Yes, me – your sweet little Padma…! I’m scared, Amma. I’m really, really scared. I know you love me no matter what. I know you will always be there by my side, calling me your bangara. I know that I have you and Papa, and Anshu, by my side.

Amma, no matter how grown up I am I will still be your little baby. Can I still be the girl that held your hand in the market? Can I still be the tiny girl you loved so much? This world hates me, Amma. You know I have always been so gentle. How do I survive in this world that hates people like me so much? I can’t love who I want to openly, so how do I hide the sweetest parts of me?

I can’t hold Anshika’s hand in public, or kiss her under the stars after drinking tea and taste the sugar on her lips. I can’t take photos with her in a booth or rest my head on her shoulder. I can’t stand in front of a crowd with a priest and lead her around the fire with a knot tied in our dresses, showing the Lord himself how we love each other. I can’t hide my name in her wedding mehendi. I might never be able to put a ring on her finger…!

I’m scared to go to college, Amma. What if they hate me too? I know the world is getting bigger but there will always be people determined to hate me for something I can’t control. Will you still love me even after people ask you where you went wrong as a parent? Will you still call me your vajra after people tell you to marry me off to some fine, upstanding boy to fix me? Will I still have a home with you, at least, even if everyone else despises me?

If you promise me that much, Amma, I will try my best. I will be a daughter you can be proud of. I will do whatever it takes if you just give me this one thing more. You have already sacrificed so much for my ambitions: please give me your blessings along with it.

One day, Amma, I will carry Anshika up the two hundred steps of Jejuri and stand before God who made us so beautiful. One day, I will make you so proud that you will ask me to carry you till the top of Kedarnath so you can thank Shiva for giving you such a fine daughter. I will do anything, everything I can, Amma.

I promise.

bangara - gold [language - kannada]

vajra - diamond [language - kannada]

This honestly hit really close to home for me. I relate to Padma a lot, always wanting my parents to be proud of me, and writing this was super emotional. I may or may not have cried but yk-

This was inspired by @tumhari-bhairavi's piece for desi-lgbt-fest-2022 day 3, fear.

[indian-kahani]

Desi LGBT Fest: Day 8 Prompt

The acceptance you hoped for vs the acceptance you got

Tagging: @desi-lgbt-fest

Anshika loved her parents. She loved them more than anything in the world, more than buttercups and more than summer days. She loved them as much as her girlfriend Padma, which was really saying something.

One of the biggest reasons that she loved her parents was their acceptance, their open-mindedness. Their willingness to shrug and accept that life was just like that sometimes, messy and chaotic and throwing everyone up into the air with no regard for how soft their landing might be.

“The universe can do whatever it wants, Anshu.” Her father had told her once. “It’s up to us what we make of it.”

She had been nervous coming out to her parents: accepting or not, open-minded or not, there was no denying the fact that for most people like her, acceptance with a loving family was a pipe dream. The most that people like her could hope for was not to get thrown out onto the streets.

It scared her sometimes – how three words could change her life so radically.

“Ma… I’m bisexual.”

“Bisexual? Kya bisexual? What is this, Anshu?” her mother was tight-lipped, unsmiling. Anshika’s heart had began to race, her hands balling up into fists.

“I- I like girls. And boys. Romantically.” She had blurted out, willing herself to not cry.

Her mother had considered her for a long second, and then turned around, the fabric of her kurti swaying gently.

“Are you serious, Anshika?” she had asked. Anshika had just nodded.

Later that night, she heard them talking between themselves in hushed, urgent whispers. At one point, she heard her mother begin to sob. Something deep inside her broke at the sound of her muffled tears. She hated that something that she held so dear, something that was a part of her, would make one of the people she loved most in the world cry.

“Bisexual? Where is she even hearing this? I didn’t even know what it meant, Manish!” her mother had said, and Anshika imagined her holding her head in her hands.

“It’s okay, Ashwini. It’s okay. She’s young, right? Maybe she is bisexual, maybe she isn’t. All we can do is wait and see. We want her to be happy, right? That’s all we can ask for.” Her father’s voice was heavy.

“You’re right, but I just can’t- why her?” Ashwini sounded defeated, asking God for the answers she didn’t know herself. “Why my baby? I just wanted her to be happy!”

Anshika covered her ears after that, feeling nauseated.

Ma… can I not be happy just the way I am?

But still, she was happy. She was content. Because the day after, her parents held her hand determined, and hugged her with their heads held high, telling her that they loved her and would do anything to see her happy with the boy, or the girl of her choice.

So yes, her parents accepted her. Yes, they wanted to see her be happy.

But still-

Her father always reminded her to be faithful.

Because bi girls are more likely to cheat.

Her mother always told her that she might find the right boy one day.

Because if she found a boy, it means she’s straight, right?

Her father suggested that she buy more lehengas and another gaghra.

The last thing they want is for her to look like a lesbian.

And sometimes when they told her they loved her, their smiles seemed a little worried.

Anshika loved her parents, and she knew they would always love her back no matter what.

She just wished that they would love her knowing and accepting that her sexuality was always going to be a part of her, that it wasn’t something that she could change.

Still, they were trying. They were doing their best with the little they knew. Her father bought a book called How to make your daughter feel loved, and read it every day.

Her mother hugged her more often, and made it a point to tell her that she was beautiful and confident and smart. They didn’t invite Padma to dinner, but they met her at the school gates and talked to her with smiles on their faces, knowing that this was the girl their daughter was dating.

They weren’t perfect, no. But they were trying.

And to be honest? That was all she wanted.

I actually quite like this one, but it was pretty rushed and i didn't want to edit so :DD

[indian-kahani]

Sometimes I'm scared to grow older. What is there, out there, once I'm not a child anymore? I can't stop this time moving forwards and pulling me along with it. Why is Time so excited? Can't it wait? I just want to savour this moment while it lasts. Every second could be the end of something beautiful and we would never know until it's gone.

-me????