#gay India

[shorthairedbrownqueer]

There are a million different personal experiences and circumstances that impact the decisions we make. Safety should always be the number one prior

But there is no queer Indian identity without queer Indians living in India

There is no queer progress in India without queer Indians fighting for it

[janaknandini-singh999]

Chapter 3:

"Oye, Shlokaa! Villu's saying that there are wayy more people here today than there were during the shaadi. I mean, of course the food is better and it just proves that we all attend like besharam to only eat! Anyway, I'll just greet them with Vilasini and apologize for not being present on the wedding. We'll back, k?" Aditi nudged Shlokaa's shoulder with two fingers, an old loving gesture of theirs, and then dragged Vilasini who was laughing with some other aunty.

"Sure." Shlokaa replied, in between chugging her mocktail. Her thoughts were still swirling over the last day's events when she had travelled the whole city like a tourist with Vilasini. For someone who has lived in one place her whole life, Shlokaa had to anxiously google all places of attraction just in case she left anything. But in the end - "screw it", she just visited two to three main places and then went with the flow carrying them wherever the wind went, while Vilasini asked random strangers their experiences and places they'd recommend.

"But.. we have google maps and reviews." Shlokaa said.

"Meri jaan, logo ke dil ki jo memories hoti hain woh internet pe nahi milti. I asked them their favourite places, not a five star hotel." Vilasini chuckled.

Shlokaa had smiled, so they really couldn't help but go with the flow - even though she couldn't quite understand what Vilasini said in the beginning. Now, Shlokaa' hindi was a little weak (the beginning of her childhood years she had spent abroad and now the westernized accent and language wasn't leaving her) and Vilasini's was surprisingly good for a South Indian.

Meri- what?

What had she called her?

She'd ask her someday.

Suddenly, Vilasini had excitedly pointed at something. "Would you LOOK at that beautiful sunset?" Shlokaa had turned her head ahead. It was definitely beautiful. She had spent years in this city, seen countless of these sunsets but it was as if Vilasini's presence just brightened and heightened every part of existence around. Everything was the same old thing yet so different. Like a rebirth.

Vilasini then had grabbed her hand and sprinted to an ice cream stall as they had watched the sunset while eating ice cream together.

"Heyo, cutie Buttercup." Shlokaa was knocked into reality from her reverie, coming back into the reception. She turned around. Only one person called her that.

"Manika." Shlokaa nodded slowly

Manika gestured her champagne glass into a raising a toast position, then advanced towards her friend, so smoothly as if gliding. She was wearing a sparkling black sari, looking as deviously enchanting as ever. Her deep green bangles clanking as she moved, her magnificent chandelier earrings swaying and nath glinting in the dark as mischievously as her, her siren eyes contrasting with her rosy face, her skinny figure contrasting with her wide hips. She was a sea of contradictions but it suited her well, guys would lay down their lives for her.

"What a pleasure to see the local baddie here!" Manika hooked her arms with Shlokaa's. "Thank God, I would've been bored to death here if it weren't for you, honey. After all, I can't mingle with all the oldies and kids and weirdos.. unlike that damn lesbian."

Shlokaa's heart stopped briefly. Her breathing shook. Her gaze toppled. A hot flower bloomed inside and instantly shed its petals on her heart but instead of petals landing softly, it was like mines dropping and exploding. A cold knife plunged right across her gut. She was blinded - all she could see was darkness.

"Who?" It was like Shlokaa wasn't even speaking, someone else in her body was.

"Vilasini. Ew. I don't even wanna take her name."

And Shlokaa ran. Ran forward with all her might in heavy, painful but very fast steps.

"That's right, darling. Show her what happens when anomalies mess up good ambience." Manika scoffed

But as soon as Shlokaa saw Vilasini, she froze. All her running but time was slowed down on seeing her. It was happening again. All over again. Vilasini, surprised but happy at seeing Shlokaa just smiled and waved her to come join. Vilasini, in her warm fire coloured salwar and chaand baaliya, standing next to Aditi in her silver sari.

They were all picture perfect

Until they weren't

Shlokaa dragged Vilasini in a corner, not too much away from the crowd but not too near either. "Kya hua, meri pyaari-" Vilasini started and suddenly Shlokaa slapped her, sharply right across her face. A small echo rung across the entire field for a moment. Some abruptly stopped talking and stared at them, some continued - not caring and mumbling "arey kya kare bacche toh ladte rehte hain." Vilasini almost tripped from the shock. Her automatic expression was to smile but she was finding it hard to do it right now, still she managed. "Shlokaa, is everythi-"

Another slap, a harder one. A punch probably, Vilasini couldn't tell because she blanked and fell down hard this time, tumbling on the grass as it sloped. She softly put a finger on her face, the corner of her mouth twitching as she realized her upper lip bleeding slightly, her salwar torn a little bit at its neck. Her eyes were swelling with tears too now, she had tried to withhold them but the pain was too much.

"Are you.. are you into girls?" She almost slapped the question on Vilasini as well, the heat rushing back into her because of.... God knows WHAT? She had just slapped this girl, thinking it'll kill the heat coz she thought it was caused by shame and anger but-!?

"Is this all--!?? how could you.. I... listen carefully, Shlokaa. I don't care for you in that manner. Better get that inside. your. head." Vilasini hissed.

Shlokaa had seen many angry people in her life, in fact she loved imagining and making up scenarios of situations and people in different emotions. But she found it impossible to picture Vilasini furious. And now that she was, it was.. something else entirely. Nothing objectively aggressive like she had observed of other people. This. It tugged something so much at her and she lost complete control of her senses, freezing again. She didn't know what to say. "So, you only care about girls you're.. into?"

"What. the. HELL is wrong with YOU!? Have you gone MAD??? Do you even know what you're blabbering on about?" Vilasini's voice cracked

And so did Shlokaa's heart, just the littlest bit. "Nice" she thought. She thought her heart must've been long destroyed by now but cracking meant it still existed. But she had been thinking so wrong all this time. Her insides jumped and screamed at her, she wanted to move fast, just do something. Anything. But the last time she did that, which was just now - she had ended up slapping someone.

"Villu-- VILASINI!!! ARE YOU OK?! OH GOD. WHAT HAPPENED??" Aditi came scrambling and helped Vilasini to her feet, who groaned just a bit at being lifted. She had fallen and shifted her weight on her elbow too it seemed because it hurt as she moved it.

"Nothing," Vilasini smiled.

She did it.

She finally managed to smile even in a situation like this one. Even though it was a little painful because of the cut on her lip.

Shlokaa had wanted her to fight back, hit her, get even, then forgive. Not smile like this. Because it hurt more than anything physical ever could.

Vilasini's voice quietly thundered

"Looks like your friend is done with my energy. She's used hers up showing me the city so her duty is done anyway. Maybe she just didn't like my face after all? Why else would you do this to an otherwise pretty one? But guess what, I didn't like her either. Tell her I don't want to see her stupid, smug face. ever. again."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vilasini sighed on the railway station bench late at night and checked her watch. She was leaving. And it was now or never. The reason she had stayed longer in this city was also ironically the reason she was doing this tonight. She hadn't even told Aditi about it. She'd tell as soon as she would reach home, she'd apologize, her cousin would understand. She could feel her eyes moisting again. She was so tired.

A hoot. She got up, dusted herself off and walked away, looking back one last time towards the city lights as she boarded. She couldn't get herself to walk inside right away for some reason so she stepped and lingered at the door. Suddenly, the train started moving so she headed inside.

"VILASINI!"

"Shlokaa?" She couldn't believe her ears

But here she was, running to her, running with the train. In the same outfit she had been wearing in the reception. Night sky deep blue lehenga and anklets twinkling with her sad eyes, kajal smudging everywhere.

"Have you been crying?" Vilasini whispered

"I should ask that to you. You look-"

"Not again. So, you really are a mad girl."

Vilasini couldn't believe any of the last two days that took place, everything happened so fast. But she ached so much, she wasn't even sure if she was paining because of herself or because of her. Why would she bother to for someone who had made a place in her heart so quickly but devastated it just as quickly?

"Please forgive me." Shlokaa pleaded, the city lights flashing in her eyes, running faster as the train did, almost tripping, Vilasini's heart skipped.

But then she did it. She didn't slap her or hit her. But she pushed her. Ever so gently that you couldn't even call it a push. Just a touch with her palm and a soft separation. Shlokaa lost her grip, tripped and went swirling onto the railway platform but regained balance soon.

She didn't even fall or face any injury. She heaved slowly, standing frozen on her spot as she saw the train slowly going out of view now.

[talesofthesecondcity]

Tales of the Second City: Finding the Gems

Finding the Gems

You can find heart-warming stories in the most unexpected of places.

With over thirty years of misadventures on the Birmingham gay scene, socialising and cruising bars, pubs, clubs, saunas and secluded midnight nooks, I have tales to tell of the places, predicaments and people I have been in… but most importantly the humour and humanity I have encountered… on the gay side of the UK’s much maligned second city.

Shining a light on the scene unseen.

I was in a private members men-only club situated at the shadowy end of Lower Essex Street, which confidently describes itself as ‘the Midland’s horniest club’. While anything and everything can and does go on in this salacious bar, it was a particularly quiet mid-week. Only a modest early evening crowd had come in for a post-work drink and the chance of a hook-up.

I was occupying myself by casually exchanging taps and pleasantries with local guys on… well I’ll say a ‘popular gay dating app’… but I mean Grindr, when a friendly ‘Hello’ popped up in my messages from someone 10 meters way.

I looked up to see a petite, South Asian lad beaming a wide grin at me from the other side of the central bar that dominated the core of the club. The lad turned his doe eyes bashfully to the floor. I waited the few self-conscious moments that it required for him to gather the confidence to look back up again, returned his smile, picked up my pint and walked over.

We introduced ourselves. His name was Nishantand it turned out that he was from a small town outside of Calcutta and in the UK on a three-year student visa.

Soon any hint of shyness had disappeared, and this guy showed that he loved to talk, chatting enthusiastically about his studies, future ambitions and friends, both in Birmingham and back home in India. One subject rapidly tumbling into the next in an engaging monologue, all delivered in his lyrical Indian accent. Most endearing, was the head wiggle, often referred to as the ‘Indian Nod’, that punctuated Nishant’s soliloquy, adding emphasis to key moments and marking changes of emotion, pace and tone, like a human metronome.

Sadly, his narrative took a downturn when he started to talk about a secret affair that he had been involved in with a man in his hometown. Things had turned sour after they had split up and the bitter ex-lover had maliciously outed Nishant to his community, bringing shame and resulting in a temporary breakdown in his relationship with his parents. Feeling he had no choice, but to get away, his studies in Birmingham not only presented new opportunities, but also respite from the scandal.

When it came time to leave for the UK, Nishant’s mother and father refused to accompany him to the airport or even say goodbye.

He had one older brother with whom he was understandably nervous of broaching the subject of his sexuality for fear of further rejection.

When he finally mustered the courage to talk to the brother, he asked, "Are you also ashamed of me?"

The brother replied, "I am neither ashamed nor surprised... and have been deleting your browser history since you were twelve years old." He had discovered his sibling’s taste in internet porn sites years before and had been keeping the secret safe ever since.

“I think I love your brother,” I gushed, once the story was over… and I could finally get a word in edgewise, “but hang on… TWELVE?!! Dirty boy!!!”

“What can I say,” Nishant replied, with broad grin and that characteristic wiggle of the head, “I was an early developer.”

Even in a bar notorious for anonymous cruising, casual bunk-ups and no-strings-attached fun, if you take a moment to look beyond the window dressing of slings and bars, rubber and leather you will find something else.

Within the dark corners�� you can find gems in the shadows.

Find over 100 tales from Birmingham's gay scene @talesofthesecondcity.com

[atavist]

Two women promised they would see the Golden Gate Bridge for the first time once they were together. They had no idea how long that would take—bureaucracy, bigotry, and the pandemic stood in their way.

“Love, Interrupted,” Atavist issue no. 154, is now live:

Now 1,100 miles apart, the two women texted and called each other incessantly. Shree wanted more. She knew that Ashwini was on the cusp of an arranged marriage, which had already cost Shree one relationship. “I like you,” she told Ashwini after a few weeks. “But if it’s a no, that’s fine. We should stop talking right now.”

Ashwini wasn’t sure what to do. She knew the risks she faced: Walking away from an arranged marriage would almost certainly require coming out to her parents, and once her orientation was no longer a secret, who knew what kind of condemnation or rejection she might face—personal, professional, or otherwise? Plus, she would have to learn to accept herself for who she was. The alternative, however, was a life without Shree.

A few days after Ashwini’s 30th birthday, she video-called Shree. Looking at Shree’s face, she knew that she was ready to make the leap. Ashwini asked Shree to be her girlfriend.

[longreads]

She wanted to go to the mountains of India, but not in order to mimic the trope she’d seen in movies: Woman retreats into nature and discovers herself. Rather, the trip would be one last chance to escape the weight of having to hide her identity.

How long would you wait for love? For two queer women—one from India, the other from Nepal—the answer was: as long as it takes.

Visit Longreads to read “Love Wins,” an excerpt from the new issue of The Atavist Magazine.

[enigma-the-mysterious]

Diversity wins! The Supreme Court of India, that refuses to legalize same sex marriage, has granted equal marriage rights to heterosexual transgender marriages. They are being homophobic but in a trans friendly way

[timetravellingkitty]

zionist indians going all "they kill gay people in palestine" is so fucking funny you know people here go ballistic if you marry someone of a different CASTE right

[justdavina]

Adorable East Indian Girl!. OMG.... she's so pretty!

[ecstarry]

"Regulus' collection" a microfic for my love, @bellaxisworld

Regulus had been collecting them for a while—his Sylvanian Families collection, that is. It all began with gifts from Sirius. The first one was a little raccoon, and Sirius had carefully wrapped it for him before leaving for school ten years ago. Each time his brother visited for the holidays, he would add another one to Regulus' collection.

He had never felt embarrassed of them, not until now, at twenty-one years old, with a shelf displaying them in an apartment where his brother’s hottest friend would be coming over. They were about to host their first dinner since leaving their parents' home, and Regulus had gladly obliged, anything to make his brother happy. But now, as those little shits looked back at him from the dustless shelf, he couldn't help but feel embarrassed.

Regulus had been crushing on James for as long as he could remember. They had seen each other not more than three times, which meant he had experienced the warmth of the sun in close proximity that same amount of times. And Regulus hated the cold.

When Sirius insisted on them living together, he was also adamant about their home feeling like a place where they both existed. It was actually his idea to have his collection on display. Now, Regulus wonders if his brother's plan had been to humiliate him all along.

He tried discreetly covering them with anything, even willing to shove them all inside a drawer. But as he grabbed the first one, his brother stopped him.

"What are you doing, Reg?" Sirius laughed a little as Regulus blushed.

"Nothing, but I just don't want your friend to think I'm lame," Regulus replied quietly, his gaze stuck on his shoes.

"Remus has seen your collection millions of times, Reg. It's just James who—" his brother stopped talking, and Regulus dared to look back at him, guilt all over his face.

"Reggie, do you care what James thinks?" Sirius' tone was much more gentle than Regulus had expected.

"So what if I do?" and at the response, Sirius' eyes softened.

"No, fuck no. Don't look at me like that. I don't like James or his stupid smile."

"Reg-"

"I know, I know! Of course, I care what James thinks, now help me hide them, but be careful!" Regulus started delicately placing them in a drawer, but Sirius' grip stopped him once more.

"Do you want to know a secret?"

"Sirius, we don't have time-"

"James has a collection of his own."

Regulus smiled but quickly called his brother's bluff, "you're just trying to make me feel better."

"I would never lie about a Sylvanian Families collection! I swear on Moony!" Sirius drew a cross around his heart.

Before Regulus could protest any longer, they heard a knock on the door.

It was James. Handsome and perfect James, who brought flowers and exquisite wine for dinner.

It was James. Adorable and kind James, who complimented Regulus' collection all night and insisted it was much better curated than James'.

It was James. Lovely and breathtaking James who would one day have a shelf next to Regulus' for his own collection.

[shorthairedbrownqueer]

To all the girls I’ve ever loved

Because I want Netflix to make a movie about a lesbian and the 84839 people they fall for 🫡🌈

[queerism1969]

[queerism1969]

[l-e-i-k-o]

[k-wame]

Balli Sehrawat & Sharan Gujral [Christian & Polo in Élitǝ] 2023 • CLA$$ • S1·E05 • Teen Drama • Crime