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janaknandini-singh999 · 2 years ago

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Day 25: Saptiya? (Did you eat?)

@desi-lgbt-fest

Vilasini came running and opened the door to the terrace sighing, a plate filled with food in her hand, thinking she'd finally get a little respite, leaving behind the humdrum of the wedding downstairs for a while at least and be able to eat out in the open. She was tired of pretending to be the perfect girl as desi atmosphere usually pressurizes one to be.

"Your name means cheerful and brilliant, so act like it, beta" some distant relative had told her smiling at her house when she was very small and introverted. Even though her parents had just laughed and agreed with her then, they had later told her not to take it to the heart but still subtly reaffirm what the relative had said every now and then through their actions even though mostly they were very supportive and flexible even for brown parents.

"I should be grateful" she thought, but that incident and similar ones engraved themselves on her and she became The Vibrant Vilasini - smiling and laughing along even when she didn't want to and eventually it naturally birthed into the role to overshadow all her other flaws that came out when she was just Villu (the nickname only her close friends and family called her).

Even right now, she was just being The Vibrant Vilasini with everyone in the wedding, joking around and asking everyone if they wanted anything. Honestly, she started kinda enjoying it. Being lively wasn't so bad at all and it had gave her a lot of nice experiences when she was with people she actually enjoyed being around with. But after a while, she always felt like she needed an escape.

Like she had needed right now.

Run.

It was moments like these she'd run and find peace under the moonlight or something.

But right now, she suddenly froze upon seeing the back of someone leaning on the handrail, quietly watching the baarat from above. "Ugh I wasn't expecting anyone to be here at this time. God, WHY me?"

Run.

That was the first thought even right now so she turned to leave when she heard a notification from the person's phone and then a thud on the railing. She looked back again as she saw the person had hit the railing or something and put their hands on their head in frustration. Vilasini closed the distance between them and saw it was a beautiful girl in a yellow sari with soft eyes turned slightly red in anger and long, lustrous hair like that of a goddess. Vilasini couldn't hold herself back from clearing her throat and whistling,

"Oo someone is really angry."

There. The Vibrant Vilasini was back. Vilasini could kick herself in the stomach right now but something wanted her to stay here with this girl and talk to her for a bit.

"Who the heck are you? And what do you want?" She looked around at her and snapped.

Oof, not the best start. But damn? She looked lovely even while furious, Vilasini stared for a second and then peeped a glance at the girl's phone at whose notification had seemed to trigger her earlier. She clicked her tongue.

"Ah, your friend didn't show up. I'm so sorry.. but I can keep you company in their place." Vilasini winked and braced herself for another blow. But it never came.

Instead, tears silently rolled down the girl's cheeks. Vilasini then noticed that her eyes had shifted to the procession below, which was now at its peak extravaganza. The groom was dancing heartily on the horseback.

"I loved him.. so much" the girl finally whispered.

Vilasini took a step back and started singing "Accha chalta hoon-" but the girl wasn't even looking at her anymore, not even acknowledging her presence as if she was invisible. That attacked right into the careful armour of her vibrant persona, which cracked open and now she felt more sad and connected to this girl than ever, it reminded her of herself when she was her true self. Maybe the energy reached the girl too so she looked at Vilasini now and asked quietly, "Did I love him too much, or too less.. that this happened?"

Vilasini had never wanted to hug someone so much her entire life but she withheld herself because she wasn't sure of this girl's comfort space. So, she just smiled. A genuine warm smile and whispered,

"You loved him enough to let him go."

That made the girl finally smile back. And God. If Vilasini thought she was gorgeous in anger, she was heavenly when smiling.

"You're red in the face, are you fine.. umm"

"Vilasini is the name. But Villu or Villaa or Villy or whatever you like, gorgeous." she said in a sing song voice. "And well, I'm red coz I'm ANGRY. THAT dude was your one true love?! Are you kidding me?? Coz well, he's my jiju now so ya know I stole his jooti but how much I got in RETURN? 2 RUPEES?!! WHO DOES THAT-" Vilasini handed the coin aggressively to her.

The girl burst out laughing, wiping away her tears and said, nodding and laughing in between again, "He's always been a miser."

Vilasini grinned back, and refused when she gave it back to her, "You can keep it. Consider it the last sign of his from the universe that Thank God You Didn't End Up With Him. My sister may have been an idiot in love to marry him, and I couldn't save her, so now I have a jijjaji that won't even give me TREATS. UGH. But don't worry coz I bet you're gonna find someone a million times better than him now."

The girl raised her eyebrows in amusement and tilted her head, saying "Thank you. I wish the same to you."

Suddenly, her stomach started rumbling.

"Oh, RIGHT I TOTALLY FORGOT." Vilasini exclaimed and brought out her plate. "Did you eat?"

"I haven't since yesterday." She replied and looked over the pheras taking place now, a numb sort of sorrow quietly settling itself on her eyes and smile.

"Not again." Vilasini whispered

"I really don't feel like having anything, and this is yours so-"

"Oh, please. There's more than enough food for both of us, and for some reason I've felt oddly full since the morning so even I have not eaten anything all day. But if you're not having, I won't either now."

"You-"

"AHA!" Vilasini quickly placed a morsel of a piece of roti and dal in her mouth as she had just opened it, and smiled. "There's no turning back now, you're trapped into indulging into this delicious shaadi ka khaana."

On the rooftop of a small makaan nearby, and elsewhere all over the city, there were brides breaking the fast by their spouses feeding while seeing the moon together.

It was Karva Chauth 🌙

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

Later that night,

"Shlokaa bro, I'm SOO sorry. This bloody fever and cold last minute so I couldn't come to the wedding. I'm a terrible best friend." a voice apologized tensely on call.

"Don't be silly, Aditi. It's alright. I would've been more mad if you had come and fallen more ill because of me. How are you feeling now?" Shlokaa put her phone on speaker and absentmindedly fidgeted with her pen.

"Much better now after the kaadha and stuff mummy made me." Aditi paused, "You know you didn't have to go through all of that all on your own by going to the wedding and seeing him, right?"

Shlokaa put the pen down and thought for a moment, somehow being able to smile at last and say "Nah, I had to. One sided shit barely ever benefited anyone. It was my thing and I needed my heart and eyes to see that it was actually over for good. And besides.. I loved him enough to let him go."

"Proud of you, girlie. Accha listen, you'll have to excuse and forgive your bestie one last time because I've gotta sleep now. Villu leaves from the first train tomorrow early morning so I have to see her off."

"Vi- who?" Shlokaa's heart skipped a beat.

"Arey, Villu.. Vilasini!! She's my cousin. You must have met her at the shaadi yesterday. She is impossible to miss because she's the life of every party. I absolutely have NO clue how she does it but she interacts and brightens literally everyone up in the room. Funny how mummy says Vilasini wasn't always like this but now compares me to her all the damn time, yaaaar. She says if Vilasini can learn then why can't I? Like bro what??Anyway, you'd meet her and think she's the most obedient and charming one you've ever met but trust me, I've known that girl since childhood and in the end, she wouldn't listen to anyone but herself and still manage to do what's best for everyone, and I respect her so much for that. Hello? Shlo bro, are you even listening?"

Shlokaa wasn't. Her mind had been stuck on one name ever since her friend had mentioned it: Vilasini. In no time, she whirled back into yesterday night on the terrace where she first saw her. Adorned in a pink lehenga wearing golden jhumke, she had looked more dazzling than the stars above. Dark eyes, and a faint smile on her cherry lips made her face even resemble the moon amidst the night of her messy hair. Shlokaa remembered feeling even a pang of jealousy on seeing her for the first time because she was also fair skinned, and no matter how hard Shlokaa would try, she believed that effortlessly pretty girls like these would always have an unfair advantage in society over her. But that wasn't the only reason she had first snapped at her. Vilasini had reminded her of the mean, popular girls that had been at her school in the beginning because of her seemingly insensitive and jesting attitude, and she just couldn't stand them. Nor could she stand just being helpess and not doing anything about it. She was a no nonsense girl who revolted against such injustice and people were a little intimidated of her because of that. They would say bad things behind her back to convince themselves that they weren't scared of her, it was she who was weird instead. But Shlokaa couldn't care less. One thing her mother had taught her was to be grounded. Shlokaa may not be a lot of things but she was strong. Her mother lovingly used to tell her how she was so dedicated to reading Bhagavad Gita when she was pregnant with Shlokaa so she had absorbed all the wisdom and values like Abhimanyu had about the chakravyun when his mother had him in the womb.

Coming back - Shlokaa was wrong about Vilasini. She had helped her that night and made her feel something no one ever had, even though she didn't even know her. She could feel her easy yet striking gaze on her even now as she imagined Vilasini in her head, and without thinking what she was saying, she snapped back into reality and suddenly blurted out to Aditi,

"Can you take me along with you tomorrow?"

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desisapphicx · 2 months ago

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Midnight Ruin

Chapter 2

Prithvi sat quietly, nursing her drink, when the silence was interrupted by the unmistakable scuffle of boots—loud and exaggerated. She had a rough idea of who it was but paid no mind. Moments later, Akasha settled down beside her.

Their parents had a funny way of naming them. Just like their namesakes, they were always parallel, always distant, yet somehow connected. Despite their differences, they always had each other’s backs. Weeks had passed since they last saw each other, and now, of all times, they met again.

“So… I heard about the invite,” Akasha said.

Prithvi merely snorted, downing another gulp of whiskey sour, the smooth, smoky elixir easing her further into relaxation. “Yeah? And?”

“Never thought I’d live to see the day when Kamats and Reddys would get so chummy,” Akasha let out an ironic laugh. “What’s next, the apocalypse? Honestly, that feels more likely than this godawful affair.” She reached for her own drink.

“Never say never,” Prithvi muttered. “The ones who made this deal are either ruthless bastards plotting like diabolical masterminds or complete fools who think they can turn generations of simmering animosity into… what? A group hug?”

They both cracked up. Prithvi raised her glass. “Anyway, cheers to new beginnings, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Akasha smirked, clinking her glass against Prithvi’s. “You know, I never understood why this grudge was drilled into our heads. We’ve been carrying it since we were kids, for fuck’s sake.”

“I agree,” Prithvi nodded. “It’s not like I despise all of them. In fact, one of them personally invited me yesterday.”

Akasha pulled a face. “Don’t tell me it was the stuck-up princess.”

Prithvi laughed, shaking her head. “No, her cousin Sashi.”

Akasha raised a brow. “And let me guess—she wasn’t too happy about it?”

Prithvi smirked, swirling the last of her drink. “Oh, she was livid. Absolutely seething that Sashi invited me without her approval. She’s so tightly wound, I swear, I feel bad for whoever ends up as her life partner. Whoever they are, they’ll be in my prayers.”

Akasha let out a low chuckle, knocking back the rest of her drink. “They’ll need more than prayers. Maybe an exorcist.”

Laughter echoed between them, mingling with the low hum of the bar and the clinking of glasses. The night stretched on, their conversation drifting from grudges and politics to the utterly meaningless—old college gossip, the latest campus scandals.

For a while, it was just them, the drinks, and the comfort of knowing that no matter how much the world around them changed, some things—like their conversations, their laughter—remained the same.

***

The library was a marvel of its own—a soaring monument of sandstone, weathered by centuries yet softened by the embrace of creeping ivy and wild yellow flowers that sprouted in the cracks, thriving where no hand had planted them. Its spires rose toward the sky, adorned with intricate carvings of lotuses and celestial motifs, their silent stories etched in stone. Beneath them, the grand arched entrance stood proud, its frame inscribed with a Sanskrit inscription, glowing faintly in the evening light—" विद्यां ददाति विनयम्" ("Knowledge grants humility") as if whispering its wisdom to those who passed through.

Situated to the west of the university, the library overlooked vast stretches of emerald-green lawns, where students sat in scattered groups, lost in books or quiet conversations beneath the shade of ancient banyan trees. The scent of damp earth and old parchment drifted through the air, mingling with the occasional rustle of turning pages. Some scholars lingered outside, savoring the crisp afternoon breeze, while others disappeared into the library’s vast depths, drawn into its silent, sacred world.

Inside, the library seemed endless, its towering bookshelves stretching far beyond sight, vanishing into the dim glow of candlelit corridors. Shafts of light streamed through tall glass windows, their edges framed in finely carved teakwood, casting shifting patterns on the polished stone floor. The flickering flames of brass lanterns reflected off of many volumes.

Prithvi sat on the wide stone ledge of a window, bathed in the soft golden hue of the setting sun filtering through the stained glass. Before her, The Mahabharata lay open, its verses demanding attention, the weight of its words pressing into her like something ancient and unshakable. Her leather-bound notebook was already filled with scribbled notes—dialogue fragments, scene directions, and thoughts she couldn’t afford to lose. She wasn’t just reading; she was building.

Her play—the university’s grand production—needed depth, needed fire. And no character, to her, burned brighter than Bheema.

“He was never just the brute,” she scrawled in the margins, underlining it twice. People always spoke of Arjuna—the divine archer, the disciplined warrior, the one touched by destiny. But Prithvi had always thought that if anyone truly felt, if anyone truly carried the weight of those endless wars, it was Bheema.

Bheema, who fought in the trenches.

Bheema, who swore vengeance when Draupadi was humiliated.

Bheema, who never knew restraint when it came to the people he loved.

She flipped back to an earlier passage—the game of dice. Her fingers tightened around the pen as she reread the moment of Draupadi’s disgrace, the moment Bheema vowed to break Dushasana’s chest open and drink his blood. Excessive? Maybe. But wasn’t grief always excessive?

And wasn’t love?

She let out a slow breath, tapping her pen against the page. Of all the Pandavas, it was Bheema who, she thought, loved Draupadi most fiercely—not in poetry, nor in silence, but in action. While others hesitated, while others reasoned, Bheema had no patience for dharma that asked a woman to suffer. He burned with her shame as if it were his own, carried her anger like an oath, an unshakable promise.

Prithvi rested her chin on her hand, eyes tracing her own notes. She wasn’t sure why this part always struck her the hardest. Perhaps because it was the kind of love she understood best—the kind that wasn’t adorned with words but proven in battle. The kind that had no place for silence.

Something about that felt right.

Prithvi tapped her pen against the page, lost in thought.

She understood Bheema in a way that unsettled her. The way anger and love intertwined in him, how he carried both tenderness and destruction in equal measure. He was never just muscle; he was instinct, he was rage honed into purpose, he was the one who swore revenge not for power, but for justice.

It was him she wanted to bring to life on stage—the protector, the avenger, the brother who never forgave nor forgot.

She jotted down another line for the script: "A warrior does not seek vengeance—he delivers it.”

The words felt right. Heavy. Just like Bheema himself.

She was deep in thought when she caught movement in the periphery—Akanksha, striding toward her with purpose.

Prithvi snorted to herself, marking her page before shutting the book with a soft thud. She didn’t bother standing. Akanksha, now at a halt before her, took in Prithvi’s unbothered demeanor with thinly veiled disdain. The silence between them stretched, a quiet battle of presence and patience. Neither spoke.

Prithvi, unimpressed, flicked her gaze back to the text, but the deliberate sound of a cleared throat forced her attention back. With a slow arch of her brow, she regarded Akanksha, wordlessly questioning her presence.

“I wanted to officially invite you to the ball,” Akanksha said, her tone flat, detached—an obligation rather than a courtesy.

Prithvi smirked. “Thanks, but I already received the invite.”

Akanksha scoffed, her expression flickering between disbelief and irritation. The audacity.

“Well,” she said coolly, “you’re invited, but feel free to skip it. No one would miss you.”

Prithvi leaned back against the window ledge, unimpressed. “Then why invite me at all?” she mused. “Ah—let me guess. Is this part of the Reddys’ grand new strategy? Call in your rivals, let them waltz in, and humiliate them for sport?”

“You can think whatever you want,” Akanksha replied, her voice clipped. “I’ve done my part. And honestly? The ball would be even more successful if you didn’t show up.”

She stepped closer, and only then did she realize how near she had gotten. The space between them had vanished in the heat of the exchange. Akanksha had a habit of pacing when irritated, and somehow, her frustration had carried her too close. Too close.

Prithvi’s expression didn’t shift, but there was something about the way she looked at her now, gaze unwavering, expectant. It made Akanksha’s pulse stutter for just a second—a ridiculous, fleeting second.

But she had more important things to think about.

A voice called out—her friends. She turned, nodded toward them, and then, without a second glance, flashed Prithvi a sharp, knowing smirk. “See you at the ball. Or not.”

And with that, she was gone, her stride confident as ever.

Prithvi exhaled, pressing her palm against the pages of her book. The argument should’ve been unremarkable—just another day of verbal sparring. And yet, the irritation still buzzed beneath her skin. She’s insufferable.

She snapped her book shut, rubbing her temples. It wasn’t the argument itself that unsettled her. It was the way Akanksha had looked at her—like she was picking her apart, like she was waiting for something.

Outside, the last of the students trickled from the lawns as twilight crept in. The air was cooling, but Prithvi still felt too warm. She shook her head, inhaled deeply, and tried—really tried—to let it go.

Akanksha barely registered her friends’ chatter. Their words felt distant, muffled, as though she had stepped out of sync with the present.

She hadn’t meant to get that close. Not that it matters. Prithvi was as insufferable as ever. And yet…

She glanced back—just once—at the glowing library windows.

Not that it matters.

***

The grand hall was alive with movement and sound, a space transformed into a world of contrasts and harmony. This place pulsed with energy; its ceilings adorned with soft golden lamps casting a glow over polished teakwood floors. Intricately carved pillars lined the vast space, their details catching the flickering candlelight, while silk-draped arches gave glimpses of the night beyond, where a cool breeze carried the scent of jasmine and spices.

The air was thick with melody. At one end of the hall, the deep, resonant notes of a mridangam set the rhythm, the strains of a veena weaving soulful raagas through the air. At the other, a jazz ensemble played—the moody hum of a saxophone, the easy swing of a double bass, the soft but insistent tap of cymbals.

At first, the two worlds stood apart, each clinging to its own rhythm. But then, a violinist took centre stage, her bow coaxing out notes that bridged the divide. The veena answered, a dialogue forming between strings, and soon the mridangam and jazz drums found each other, their beats entwining in a growing pulse. The duel had become a dance—a playful, electric fusion that set the hall alight.

Dancers stepped into the fray. Classical performers, their anklets chiming in sharp, deliberate beats, took the floor first, their movements controlled, precise, storytelling with every flick of their wrists. From the other side, the easy, fluid swing of Western dancers countered with an effortless charm. What began as two separate performances turned into something exhilarating—a playful challenge. One dancer mirrored the other, their footwork shifting, adapting, learning. The once-divided floor turned into a shared canvas, where tradition and rebellion, discipline and improvisation, merged in a breathtaking display.

The guests reflected this blend, clad in a mix of rich silks and tailored suits, embroidered saris and sleek gowns. Some clung to classical elegance, while others embraced the new, a fusion of culture draped in fabric and form. Laughter rippled through the space, glasses clinked, and for a moment, the room belonged to neither past nor future, but to the brilliance of the present.

And then, Prithvi arrived.

Stepping through the grand archway, she let her gaze sweep over the spectacle before her—expression unreadable, yet eyes sharp, unwilling to concede just how captivating the scene was. She tugged at the cuff of her velvety black embroidered blazer, the ornate patterns catching the candlelight, a stark contrast to the deep maroon silk of her daringly cut V-neck shirt. A black-and-gold silk scarf, knotted with effortless precision, draped against the fabric, while wide grey corduroy pants framed her stance with quiet defiance. The subtle lift of heeled boots only heightened the edge in her posture. She had arrived, but she did not belong—nor did she care to.

She scanned the room, surprised to find her family mingling easily with Akanksha’s. Their sudden camaraderie felt unnatural, too smooth to be real. She exchanged brief pleasantries with Akasha, but her amusement quickly curdled into quiet disdain at the orchestrated performance around her. She chuckled under her breath—only to falter when she caught her father’s pointed stare from across the room, his silent warning to behave. He excused himself from the group and approached her, lowering his voice to a measured tone.

“We’re merely securing a necessary partnership,” he said, his words clipped, rehearsed. “A strategic alliance, if you will.”

Prithvi arched a brow. “Strategic? Since when we became so… friendly?”

“Keep your friends close,” he said smoothly, then smiled—one of those polite, calculated smiles that meant nothing. “And your enemies closer.”

Understanding clicked into place. The two families were playing a game, pretending to be adversaries in negotiations while secretly joining forces to outmanoeuvre a third party. A contract was at stake, and this entire performance—every laugh, every raised glass—was just another move in a carefully constructed charade.

Before she could respond, a voice cut through the din.

"You’re late," came a voice from the side, sharp but laced with something almost teasing.

Prithvi turned, already knowing who it was. Akanksha stood there, poised as ever, draped in lilac organza adorned with delicate silver embroidery, her sleeveless blouse matching the soft hues of her attire. An antique necklace rested against her collarbone, glinting subtly in the candlelight. Her hair, loosely cascading down her back, was braided only at the front on the left side—a small, deliberate touch of elegance. The haughty tilt of her chin was unmistakable, as was the silent challenge in her gaze.

"Fashionably," Prithvi corrected, stepping closer. "You, on the other hand, look like you’ve been waiting for me. Should I be flattered?"

Akanksha scoffed, crossing her arms. "Don’t flatter yourself. Some of us actually have responsibilities."

"And yet, here you are, monitoring my arrival instead of attending to them." Prithvi smirked, letting her words linger between them. "Interesting." Before Akansha could argue she was called for something that she had to attend, Prithvi looked at her disappearance amused to herself regarding what just happened.

***

The ball had served its purpose. It had bolstered the Reddys' pride, sealed the alliance, and left Latha satisfied. Everything was moving according to plan—except for one thing. Her daughter’s constant skirmishes with that Kamat girl. Latha understood the history, the resentment woven between their families, but Akanksha’s inability to keep control of herself frustrated her. If it didn’t threaten their carefully laid plans, she would let it pass.

***

Akanksha had been watching all night, her suspicions growing with every passing moment. Now, as she followed the shadowy figure through the dim corridors, her heartbeat quickened. She pressed herself against a wide pillar, concealed in the darkness, watching as the figure slipped into the office.

Carefully, she crept closer. The sound of drawers rattling met her ears—whoever it was, they were searching for something. Then came footsteps. A voice.

Her uncle.

The air in the room tensed, his confusion evident as he questioned the intruder. Words sharpened, turning into accusations. Then—an argument. Heated. Furious.

And then—a scream.

Akanksha barely had time to react before the figure bolted from the room, vanishing into the shadows. Her breath hitched, but she forced herself forward, stepping inside.

The sight made her freeze.

Her uncle lay sprawled on the floor, blood pooling beneath him, glistening dark against the expensive carpet. The wound at his left hip still bled, staining his clothes. His eyes—wide, locked in shock—held the weight of something unfinished, something lost in the final seconds before death claimed him.

She dropped to her knees, pressing trembling fingers to his wrist. Cold. Lifeless.

Before she could process it, a sharp gasp rang through the room.

Akanksha turned just as her cousin stood in the doorway, face pale, horror carved into every feature.

"What did you do?" the words trembled from her lips.

Then—before Akanksha could even respond—her cousin collapsed.

The commotion sent a ripple through the house. Footsteps pounded; voices rose in alarm.

***

Down in the yard, Prithvi was enjoying herself, weaving through conversations, an occasional flirtation laced into her words. Then—suddenly—someone collided into her, a body rushing past in a blur of urgency. They mumbled a hurried apology, barely pausing before disappearing into the night.

Something metallic glinted in the lamplight.

She glanced down. A set of keys lay abandoned at her feet, she picked them up, feeling the weight.

She called after the figure, but they were already gone, swallowed by the dark.

Upstairs, the chaos had reached its peak. People flooded the room, murmurs turning into gasps, into accusations. Prithvi arrived with the others, her gaze sweeping over the scene.

Akanksha stood at the centre of it all, her fingers bloodied.

***

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i-love-sufjan-stevens · 2 years ago

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Vintage Photos of Queer Couples of Color

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laranjafox · 1 year ago

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• New Normal (2022) [in] [22min] #sapphicfox

[no age rating recommended, but I'd say +12 for a better understanding of the story]

[comments; no spoiler]

Oh man, this film is fantastic, the visual part is pretty dynamic, the pace is accelerated, you feel how energetic Appu is, she dances, she hangouts with her men friends a lot, she's a free spirit, then she meets Isha and we can feel her nervousness and how agitated she was, "don't judge me", I was giggling all along, their relationship is so cute and Appu was feeling so good, you could see how important the phrase Isha said "it's normal" truly calmed her down like a mantra.

[spoiler]

It was everything so good, I didn't even think about any problem that could happen, I was taken by all the good emotions, when they were in the highway and the car passed by them with that noise that grows loud in your ear, then dissipates, then the melty feeling stopped and the fear came, I thought they'd get into an accident, seriously, thank goodness they didn't 🙏

But the problematic came.

Appu's mother found out about her romantic relationship with a girl and wasn't comprehensive about it, called it unnatural.

Here I have some thoughts about it: Appu just said that her mother made a problem of it and the rest of her family would know sometime, she neither said she was physically unsafe nor that she was being kicked out from home, so I think Appu was a bit rushed when thinking of moving to another city. But, also, if she could do it and wouldn't have financial problems, then it's a better to move out than staying in a place where don't accept and respect you.

When Appu told about her mother's reaction to Isha, she and Rony laughed, like? I felt hurt about it, I understand Appu's side, it's not something trifling. Okay, each person reacts in their own way, but they could laugh and speak seriously about it afterwards, Appu needed support and her girlfriend that should be the first person doing it, didn't. I don't know, even the part where Appu asks Rony a ride and Isha says no I found insensitive, he could give her a ride and comeback 🥺

From this point they completely fall apart, it's hurtful, but what Appu did isn't okay. And here we have space to talk about different forms of romantic relationship: from what I understood, Appu and Isha had a monogamous open relationship, so they could date and have sex with other people, except for other girls, one rule, one! And Appu did exactly this, I know she was hopeless, but instead of trying to confront and talk, she resort to caring and physical support of another girl. If it happened once, but Appu didn't carry it on, maybe Isha would understand, but that's not what happened and it's sad because Appu called Isha her soulmate, but apparently they don't talk anymore 🙁

I'm happy Appu realizes that she messed up, but the girl states that "if there's conditions in a relationship, it messes it up", for me that's hard to believe, every relationship have conditions, even if they're unspoken, implied. But Appu understands more about herself, that she wants to live non-monogamous open relationships. Maybe her relation with Isha was non-monogamous, they don't say names and we don't have enough details to be sure, but for me, from Isha's perspective it seems like it.

I don't know much about non-monogamy, but one concept of it is having no hierarchy, e.g. Appu-Isha is the main relationship and others that happen are "out of this circle", this doesn't happen, it's all equal and Isha seems to live like that, but when Appu is confronted about cheating, Appu brings up Isha's relationship with Rony, so for her, he was out of their circle, he was less important in such a way that even they having an open relationship and Isha being (I'm supposing) multiromantic, but homosexual, meaning she doesn't feel attracted by men and even she saying that doesn't feel comfortable with having physical contact with men, Appu showed feeling bothered by it. Which makes me wonder if she's ready for living a non-monogamous open relationship without any rules as she wish, since considers it the best, but the idea seems great indeed hehe but utopian

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