By Title

What is He to Me?

He is elder to me, yet he becomes a child for me,
He is devilishly beautiful yet he says he is blessed to have me.
The dusk begins when he sleeps watching me on the video call,
And Yes the dawn comes after i wish him ‘Good morning’,
even though He gets up few hours before me, Says He..!!
Yes it’s tough on heart when it often becomes tired when
The heart beat touches the sky when he says “Humare woh Himachali hain”
Though it dives steeply when he says “Tum Rulate ho mereko”
When he laughs i see how much he has longed for this moment
I lecture him about the stuff on trust and freedom which he already knows
and He listens with wet eyes who cry out “Tumko khone ka dar hai”
Yes he gets angry and won’t reply but after a no. of apologies
He finally picks up the call,
And the first words are enough for me to realise the fact that indeed
how blessed actually i am to have him.
Is it infatuation or something else i don’t really want to know
Do you know why? because i wish to be selfish
I wish to be selfish for him for when he shows me dreams;
Dreams where we paint the canvas of our life with our own hands
Is so beautiful that even the thought is enough to make
Our present worthy of the moment; but alas that’s the End
Cause it was based on truth rather than false hopes
And why do i feel like saying that fuck the truth when
something so beautiful ended because he said the truth
And the dreaded line was “HE can’t come out to his family Ever”
And now tears fill the gap in the heart and for the last time we cried again
and yet again the dusk came when He slept watching me over the video call..!!

Posted by Himanshu Rai in By Author, By Genre, By Language, By Title, English, Poem / Poetry, 2 comments


बचपन में देखा था पहली बार l
मानो पुरुष ने किया नारी शृंगार ll
पूछा मैंने मां, से यह कौन खड़े हैं द्वारा?
मां बोली, पूर्व जन्म के पापों से l
बेटा, किन्नर है सारे ll
हर जन्म पे जो बधाई बजाते l
क्यों मां, हम उन्हें नहीं अपनाते ll
जब ईश्वर सदा पूर्ण कहलाए l
तो उसकी रचना अधूरी क्यों मानी जाए ll
सुन समाज कहता में डंके की चोट पर l
हा सत्य, सत्य है मेरा हर एक एक अक्षर ll
अगर पूर्ण है तेरा जगदीश्वर l
तो संपूर्ण है उसकी रचना अर्धनारीश्वर ll
– रित्विक

Posted by Ritwik in By Author, By Genre, By Language, By Title, Hindi, Poem / Poetry, 2 comments

A Poem for Pride

I walk, they whisper.
I run, they talk.
I fall, they laugh.
Yet, with Pride I get Up.

Pride! My Pride! Your Pride!
Our Pride! Their Pride!
Everyone’s Pride! To be
Who we’re and say it Freely.

Freely and with no Fear.
To paint the Rainbow
Across our faces and
Say, “Yes, we’re Queer”.

“Queer, we’re and Lesbian too
Yes, and Gay and Bi- and
Trans- too”, say it freely
Here, and there in the Pride too.

Posted by Mohit Rai in By Author, By Genre, By Language, By Title, English, Poem / Poetry, 1 comment

It Still Rains Here

“It still rains here
Though you left me, long ago.
I still relish the drops,
On my fingers, my hands, my face, my neck
And everything, that was once, yours.
The pain you left me in, still exists.
But why should I grieve?
If that was what you desired to give me.

It still rains here.
The windows remain shut.
The roof leaks. The walls keep wet.
But I don’t smell moist.
Your fragrance still persists.
The smell of your sweat on the collar,
The smell of your hanky…

Do you remember the lane behind Sun City?
As the clouds capped the stars and the moon
And there was a catalyst zephyr,
You walked close to me.
The toxic aroma of cigarette that still lingered on your breath…
It was killing me. But I gave in.

I held you by your collar.

And that stroke of your stubbled cheeks on my neck…
I was young. And my skin was tender.

And so were, my hands that ran down your navel.

It still rains here.
Now, I have my own five O’clock shadow.
I still feel your tongue rolling in my mouth.
I swallow my saliva as I suck my lips.
My hands are now rugged.

How I wish, I could apologize for that collar that I ripped.
The lips were sealed.
They were wet, wrinkled and red. And so were yours.
And I still hold that button that fell apart.

And one fine day…
You decided to walk away. Just like that. Just.
I stood like a fool and see you lose to the crowds.
That’s all I could do then. Stand like a fool…

I feel sorry for my country and my country men.

It still rains here. Just so you know.”

Posted by Prashant Bhilare in By Author, By Genre, By Language, By Title, English, Poem / Poetry, 3 comments

Unexpected life

It’s 1am and you’re trying to sleep but no sleeps comes since your mind is too occupied with unwanted thoughts

It’s 2am and you’re crying your heart out because everyone who was supposed to stay, they all left you too soon.

It’s 3am and you’re holding a blade in your hand because its the only way you know to ease the pain in your heart.

It’s 4am and the only thing you can see is your scarlet wrists and the only thing you can hear is the sound of crimson liquid falling on the floor.

It’s 5am and you’re in shower, thinking about everything that’s wrong with your life.

It’s 6am and you’re eating your breakfast even though you don’t want to.

It’s 7am and you’re waiting at the bus stop and thinking about those days when your dad used to drop you to school

It’s 8am and you’re surrounded with people you’ve known your whole life and still haven’t really known.

It’s 9am and you’re standing in a ground with your hands folded and praying to someone you’re not sure if exist or not.

It’s 10am and you’re looking at trigonometric identities without really understanding anything.

It’s 11am and you’re laughing with bunch of people who are too ignorant to see the empty look in your eyes.

It’s 12pm and you’re trying to understand principles of inheritance and variation.

It’s 1pm and you’re wishing you were at your home instead of being trapped in this hellhole called school

It’s 2pm and you’re walking on the road alone and thinking about that time when your mom used to pick up from school everyday

It’s 3pm and you’re doing your homework and trying to be a good kid even though you know it’s of no use because no one is going to see how much you’re trying to full fill their expectations.

It’s 4pm and you’re looking at the computer screen waiting for that one message that’ll never come.

It’s 5pm and you are listening to songs that make you want to cry but at the same time give you some strength to keep going.

It’s 6 pm and you’re once again busy with your books, trying to ignore the world.

It’s 7pm and you hear the doorbell.

It’s 8pm and you’re trying to ignore the feeling of running away.

It’s 9pm and you’re sitting in your room, A bit scared of what’ll happen tonight.

It’s 10pm and now you can hear shouts and cries. You hear your parents arguing but you stay quite because you know what’s going to happen next.

It’s 11 pm and there is a loud knock on your bedroom door.

It’s 12am and you’re sitting with belt marks all over your skin. You’re scared and alone. You’ve got no one to protect you, to save you. You’ve got no one to confide in. You’ve got no one who’ll kiss on your scars. You’ve got no one who’ll wipe away your tears. The only thing you’ve got is the bunch of the people who call themselves your friend while they even don’t know your reality. All you’ve got is yourself. All you’ve got is those scars and the feelings of not belonging. All you’ve got is pain in your heart and unwanted thoughts in your mind.

And then it all keeps repeating until you give up one day than everyone is suddenly crying because you’re no longer here. People who bullied you in school are telling other of how much of an amazing you were. Everyone is blaming you for being a coward. But no one is feeling guilty of their ignorance of their cruelty.

After a month, you’re forgotten. You’re just a name engraved on stone and erased from hearts.

But somewhere someone cries. You look at them from up above and feel nothing but pity for them. And then you see another life getting destroyed.

Yes, this is the cycle of life. Yes, this is destiny.

Posted by Samay Singh in By Author, By Genre, By Language, By Title, Comedy / Satire, English, 5 comments