#kartik x aman | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rorapostsbl · 2 years ago

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pyaar karte the saajna. -karman-

i am absolutely, a-b-s-o-l-u-t-e-l-y gone for kartik & as a ritual, we fanfic writers make our beloved folks suffer :)

⚊ ⚊ 🌟 ⚊ ⚊

kartik had known, from the very start, aman wasn't the one to flaunt their relationship all-around.

considering the situation, and the homophobia that was very prevalent in the country— he always nudged aman to let lose, to let go, and somewhere, deep down, muffled and repressed was the ever-present need of kartik.

the hope that one day, aman will proudly hold his hand. that one day, his aman will stand up for them, stand up for their love.

despite it all, kartik understood— all of aman's hesitations, his cover-ups, his refusal. it was alright, because the moment they'd enter their home, aman would shed all his paranoia and be himself.

the night where kartik first got to know how shameless the shorter man could really be, ended with him being spooned from behind, limbs aching and lovebites littered all over his body, lips swollen and red.

his heart had thumped loudly that night, next to aman's light snores, when even in sleep, aman tightened his grip around kartik, almost as if scared, that he'd disappear.

the small hope bloomed again, the stupid wish of being able to flaunt his lovebites— to scream at the world, he was aman's, and aman was his.

looking back now, kartik's heart clenches painfully, a sob bubbling up his throat as he wishes to repeatedly smack himself — the tears fall as if does so, repeating to himself, angrily,

"gadha hai tu, gadha. kyu vishwas kiya uspe? kyu umeed ki, ki ek dinn voh teri side lega, sabke samne. kyu?"

that's how he falls asleep that night, muffled sobs by his crumpled up pride flag— kartik's heart aches as he remembers aman hanging them up all around their home during pride month.

he curses himself again, for being so stupid, holding the pride flag tighter under the unrelenting cold and the dim moonlight, limbs hurting to move. tears fall down, as he wishes he'd just forget.

forget aman, his love, his devotion, his affection, his everything — how aman made kartik feel seen, understood and loved.

forget all those nights they spent together in their bedroom beneath the twinkling fairy lights — "accha lagega yaar aman! dekh na, kitna romantic lagta hai!" kartik had said, in hopes of pursuing aman to let him decorate the bedroom — he wanted to forget all of it.

every night, morning, spent under the covers, aman's hand in his, aman's lips pressed sweetly against his, as a 'good morning'

despite all his failed attempts, kartik still hoped, that in the middle of this cursed night, aman would show up — would silence all his worries and his pain — every clack against the metal doors, every hallucination of a footstep, every crackle in the night, he hoped— and for the first time, aman didn't show up.

kartik fell asleep, exhausted, tear stains on his cheeks, angry curses at himself in his mind, and his heart? it longed for aman to come and hold him tight.

⚊ ⚊ 🌟 ⚊ ⚊

aman, who had locked himself in his bedroom, refused to listen, to come out at the request of his mom.

he didn't care, he couldn't care — all he wanted was to go to kartik, say sorry for how miserably he'd failed them, their love, and beg for forgiveness.

aman waited impatiently, feet tapping continuously against the floors as he paced around. his mind was flooded with kartik — his jaan — being beaten up ruthlessly by his father.

aman scoffed at his thought. father? which parent would beat their kid's innocent lover? no matter how baffling it was — how could he even think of that?

aman deflated as he thought of what he'd said, in a flurry of emotions, "ab hilna mat yaha se." maybe kartik would have made a run, like aman so desperately wanted him to, at the time, but he, himself was angry at kartik — but more so at everything that had transpired.

his family would never change, he knew. that's why he denied to ever let kartik come near them, his paranoia came out to be true.

when it finally hit 4am in the morning, aman slowly opened the lock to his door, cautiously stepping out incase chacha or his parents had been waiting outside all night, knowing he'd come out — for kartik.

he was met with silence, a lightening up sky. aman wrapped his arms around himself at the cold air that greeted him, washing away all the tiredness he held. there was still a lingering worry, where was kartik?

the man looked around, cautious of not alerting anyone — as he climbed down the stairs, footsteps light — he felt like a outsider in his own home.

he wasn't sure if it was home anymore — aman sighed. then, he saw kartik — laying dead asleep in the charpai that had been around before he had even been born into the household.

a snippet of life came back to him — his father cradling his head in his arms, as they both lay together under the stars, in the summer that made it impossible to sleep inside the rooms, which would grow unbearably hot.

aman would cry because he couldn't sleep — and then shankar tripathi would take him out to the angaan, point to all the stars and lull him to sleep.

now, years after, he sees the love of his life lay there, tears stained in his cheeks, curled in, nothing but a pride flag covering him in a meek offer to protect him from the harsh cold all night long.

aman feels his heart break, and the urge to run away washes over him, again. just as it had did all his life — the urge to run, to cower, to buy some more time because he'd never been brave enough, never been strong enough.

he fights it this time, each step he takes towards kartik, and not away from him — just as he had done not even a day ago. he should've been there, if nothing, atleast been there and gotten beaten with kartik instead of leaving him alone.

kneeling down, once he is close enough, he sits there — lost on what to do. is he even worth touching the man anymore? would kartik like it, for his coward of a boyfriend to return after everything has been done?

his mind screams at him to not to, but aman does it anyway, helpless infront of the face which had been there, holding his hand and providing him strength every step on the way, whenever his legs wobbled.

raising a slightly trembling hand, aman brushes away the stray locks which had been ruffled — no longer gelled upwards. his hand cups the latter's face, heart in his throat as he grows anxious, fingers tapping against the limp cheeks, which once would've been smiling even in their sleep.

"kartik?" aman calls out, hushed and urgent, as he shakes him more violently. his heart thuds in his chest as he feels himself go numb, urgency washing away his rationality as he grabs just where kartik had been bruised—

resulting in kartik yelping awake, a frown taking over as he pushes away the hand who'd pressured the dark red wound— in the shape of a lathi.

aman deflates, whispering a "sorry" as he waits for kartik to regain his consciousness and understand it's him.

he sees the exact moment kartik looks up, from where he'd been consolingly rubbing his wound to calm the pain down — into his eyes. aman's heart cracks abit more as he sees kartik avert eye contact, the eyes which once wouldn't leave his, now refusing to meet his.

gathering courage, and abit of the lost strictness, he says, "chal uth. mere room chal, waha pe so." and gets up, hands rubbing themselves nervously on his pants.

"nahi jana mujhe. mein ja rha hu delhi, tu apne kusum ke saath karlio happy ending." kartik sounds defeated, disappointed and most scariest of all — void of the fighting spirit he always had. even when aman chided him for his childish ways.

aman begins to feel frustrated tears well up, he says, begs — "nahi karni shaadi. tu chal, tu kahi nhi ja rha."

kartik still hasn't looked at him, he notes with a crushed spirit. he wants to reach out, so badly, grab kartik and shove in the fact that without kartik, aman would be nothing but a lifeless soul.

"kartik," aman pleads, desperation wearing him out as he grabs the taller's face, forcing him to look into aman's eyes. his beard pricks his palms, a rush of nostalgia leave aman breathless.

how many times have they done this?

he lets out a choked out sound when he sees kartik on the verge of tears— they fall down as he closes his eyes, unwilling to make eyecontact still.

"kartik yaar," aman pleads again, more desperate, "mat kar esa mere saath. terko pata hai na—" he's cut off by the other. kartik speaks, his voice a gruff rumble, parched because he hasn't spoken since hours more than usual.

its frustrated, tired and so unlike kartik's usual cheery voice, his blinding smile that would make aman fall in love all over again.

"nhi kar sakta mein yeh sab, aman." he says, defeat evident in his voice as his hands place themselves over aman's, squeezing it tightly. aman's heart soars at the small touch.

"tu hai mera baby strongest. mein nhi ban sakta strong — mein nhi dekh sakta terko uss kiran ke saath—"

"kusum hai uska naam, kartik"

he lets out a groan in protest— "nhi farak padta mujhe kya hai uska naam. mein ja rha hu delhi, happy married life." he says resolutely, hands pulling away from where they were interwined with aman's.

"bolne dega mujhe ki bas khudki bolke bhagna hai?"

kartik stills, eyeing him suspiciously before he sighs, rolling his eyes. "bol. aur agar tune wapas shaadi ki bakwas ki toh mein ja rha, wapas mudd ke dekhunga tak nhi."

he knew that was a lie, aman knew it was a lie. aman pretended as if though it wasn't — and continued, hands snaking around kartik's neck.

the shorter pulls him close— foreheads touching. for a moment, kartik wishes to resist — wishes that he had the strength to walk away and not listen to what the other had to say.

he never had the strength, not today, not yesterday, never.

so he listens, forehead against aman's and feels a weight lift off his shoulders. aman is gentle with his hands, running them down his back, as he impossibly steps in closer, until he's stopped by the charpai and kartik is doused in aman's scent.

"sun ab, meri baat," aman demands, voice soft as he stares into the depths of kartik's soul. kartik hides them away, again, afraid he'd let out the pain he acted obvious to.

aman, staring into the closed eyes of his lover, begins— knowing kartik is listening.

he knows he's risking so much, doing this out in the tripathi angaan, where any moment someone might wake up, or worse, set out searching for him.

but as aman takes in kartik's form, hands settled on his bare back, where lathi marks are still visible — he desperately wishes he could erase them all and mark kartik with his love instead.

wishes. that's all he's done, wished for this, wished for that, wished for a happy ending with kartik. he realises this now— in the most unconventional way possible, you have to act in order to fulfill your wishes.

"pyaar karta hu tujhse mein. pagal sa ho jata hu jab tujhse baat nhi hoti, ya jhagda lag jata hai—"

"toh fir aaya kyu nhi, mujhe tere baap ke lathi se bachane?" kartik quips up, eyes opening and instantly locking with aman's intense ones. he loses his breath seeing aman upclose after so long, eyes immediately falling shut.

"darr gaya tha mein. samaj nhi aaya kya karta — ek taraf mera sperm donor," aman pauses, fighting the urge to kiss the shy smile that takes over kartik's face as he speaks, "aur ek taraf tu, meri jaan."

another sigh.

"nhi kar rha kusum se shaadi. ha, hai galti meri, par kya karta yaar kartik. jo teri safety ke liye sahi laga, voh kiya meine." he prays kartik understands— hears and sees the genuineness in his being.

"humesha se bhaagte hi aaya hu, kabhi himat nhi mili ye sab karne ki. par aaj samaj aaya, mere baap ki maar toh choti kimat hai tere pyaar ke liye."

aman barely speaks over a whisper, words he'd wished to keep inside spilling away in the face of the vulnerability kartik shows as he listens to aman.

"kaha jayega mujhe leke?"

aman grins, eyes crinkling up as he plants a kiss on the latter's lips— for the first time, uncaring of who sees.

he feels as if he can breathe properly again. kartik gave him a chance at redemption. he's not going to miss any of it.

"chal mere saath, mere room mein. baki jo karna hai mein karunga."

━ ━ 🌟 ━ ━

a/n: my usual tags won't be here cuz it's not a rrr fic. worry not people, still as obsessed with rambheem.

but, karman deserve love as well 💓✋🥺 will be posted in my ao3 account soon.

lmk if u wanna be tagged in my karman fics.

#shubh mangal zyada saavdhan #karman #kartikaman #amankartik #kartik x aman #aman x kartik #aman tripathi #kartik singh #smzs

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thekarmancollection · 5 years ago

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Welcome!

Kartik Singh and Aman Tripathi.

When I first watched the trailer for Shubh Mangal Zyaada Saavdhan, I was immensely excited. It was going to be the first mainstream same sex love story to be depicted on the big screen after all. Who wouldn’t be excited for it? What I didn’t count on was to be moved by their story so much.

Living in Canada, I have been exposed to LGBTQ+ stories for so many years. Whether it was in literature, TV shows, films, cartoons, anime - I have seen them all. But it has always been in the Western context. It always happened to people who were drastically different to me in so many ways. I may empathize with them, but I was never able to connect with them.

Until Shubh Mangal Zyaada Saavdhan that is.

Kartik and Aman are two gay men, while I’m a bisexual woman. Yet, I identify more with them because of some fundamental things like being able to understand their language. Being able to know the heavy pressure that comes with not wanting to be a huge disappointment to the family. Of knowing that even though you may not be in constant connection with your chacha/chachi, massar/massi, pua/puphar, mama/mami - on some level, knowing that they’re gossiping about you as if you’re a bad seed, it hurts.

Then there are other elements that make them so familiar. Like the gaaliyan that get thrown around each other (saale), the sarcastic comments (hum kuthe hai kya?), or the pop cultural references (ban paye ga tu Roadies?). There have been so many heterosexual movies that replicated iconic Bollywood moments, like DDLJ’s train scene, as a way of propping up their own romantic couples. I always understood what they were trying to but it still never made me care. They’re the main leads, a man and a woman, of course they will get their happy ending. But to see Kartik and Aman in that same context, it hit me so hard. The only different thing about Kartik and Aman is that they’re both men. Other than that, their love is just the same and just as valid as all the heterosexual pairings the audience has been made to see thus far.

If the film wasn’t enough, the songs captured my whole heart. Ooh La La is the crack song that lifts up my head any time of the day. Pyaar Tenu Karda Hai Gabru makes me want to dance no matter where I am, and I’m super insecure about my dancing. Mere Liye Tum Kaafi Ho makes me want to stare out the window, and wonder where my future partner is so that I can tell them the same one day. Aisi Taisi reminds me of how hypocritical society is and it’s best to just do what you want to, while Kya Karte The Sajna makes me want to wear a bi cape and shout things at people from the rooftop. And finally Raakh owns my soul. If I were to ever name a song that describes me than it will hands down be this one. Death and the LGBTQ+ community share a very long history. Yet, this history never got in the way of keeping hope alive for a better tomorrow. Yesterday may have been bad, but we can’t let it cloud the future. After all, zidd jad mein hai kya karenge.

Seeing Kartik and Aman’s story made me realize just how ignorant I have been of the LGBTQ+ lives, and issues within my own desi community. Because I had felt so culturally removed from seeing all the predominantly non-Brown stories, for some reason I had gotten it in my head that we don’t exist. Our stories don’t exist. As such, I did a huge disservice to my own self, because I am one. I am that face that we don’t get to see on the screens. I have that story that doesn’t get told often. I am that person who others may connect to.

I had accepted my bisexuality a long time ago, but have only recently chosen to connect with others in an active manner. Especially with those who are from the desi community. I’m not here to do anything radical, or be the answer to a lot of questions, or even be a leading voice in a particular cause. There’s still so much that I have to learn myself after all.

What I will be doing is what I do best: write stories. I’m still learning how to craft original stories, and characters, so I will stick to writing pieces on Kartik and Aman for now. It’ll help me greatly to learn how to write out different voices, our cultural context etc. Apart from that, I’ll occasionally write some meta pieces about the movie as well. There’s simply so much going on both on the surface, as well as subtext, and I would like to write out my two cents on it.

Lastly, this blog is an absolute safe space for everyone, regardless of who they are. Like I had mentioned, I am not an expert on everything that pertains to sexuality, so I will always refrain from making generalized comments as I know they’re not applicable to everyone. If I ever make a mistake, do me a kind favor, and politely point out my mistake. Don’t immediately jump down my throat and demonize me for not knowing everything under the sun.

Let’s engage in healthy conversations where we all help educate one another. Let’s pick each other up when we make mistakes, comfort one another for our losses, and celebrate our successes.

Without any further ado, welcome to thekarmancollection. 💜

#shubh mangal zyada saavdhan #smzs #karman #kartik x aman

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