Fiction & Poetry
The governing eyes throughout history have dictated the acceptable forms of the performance of sex.
In my flesh, I must pass
for straight…
But in the digital world,
I can be me.
Why must others judge her appearance and grace
When true beauty is not confined to a face?
In a world obsessed with the outer shell,
She knows in her heart inner beauty dwells.
They lay eyes on him, they see a body out of the gym. A black, thick beard, in a need…
“Life’s too small without freshly cut coriander
Generously sprinkled on kadhai chicken.
Mint leaves blitzing their way with tomatoes
Ripe from the vine to the fingers dripping chutney –
Fragrances of earth between all this concrete.”
I smell the judgement
and the disappointment
of my parents as I enter the hall;
it stinks of their silence on my sexuality.
That’s all the big roles and ethics
All there to fulfil.
Another task,
Another box to tick
Another concrete path to rush
Quick, simple and straight.
Like some perverted Pavlovian desire,
the wafting smell of fresh soap
that fills up the air in the bath
has my pupils dilate when walking out.
Waxing my body for the first time last year to have silky skin like the women on Veet’s box but ended up with rashes instead.
I only ever read your letters
to learn what patterns to avoid
in future relationships.
Khusro to Bullah. Ada to Parveen
यह, वह, वो
He, she, they
Lover or Beloved? Woman or Man?