Wet – I

I am pushed to the bed. I notice that there are new bedspreads on and they are white. I’ve always been fond of white bedspreads.

I am waiting. I’ve waited too long for this. We’ve been apart for far too long.

I am still sedentary and he leans forward. His face is inches away from mine.

His palm cups my head and he pulls my hair back. He looks into my eyes, deep and straight, poring into them. I feel naked, utterly naked, body, heart and soul. I am shaking with desire and anticipation.

He spreads my legs with his knees. A sigh escapes me. His finger is on my lip, hushing me. I bite the urge to take it in my mouth and feel it with my tongue. But it moves, it’s trailing down my torso, down my navel. His eyes are still on mine, his gaze is carnal.

His fingers trail lower still, until it’s finally exactly where I ache for it to be, the core of my desires. I am consumed with lust, blinded with longing.

I am dripping wet.


Excerpts from the book I will most probably never complete – I

I lost my virginity at seventeen to a tall boy with light brown eyes who I thought I would always be with and eventually marry. Ishaan. I remember the day like it was yesterday. We had only been together for a month and it had been nothing like I had imagined; not slow, not gentle, no soft whispers of sweet nothings and declarations of his undying love for me. Fifteen minutes was all it took, the pain blinded me and I had to bite my own arm to keep myself from screaming. He lay beside me after that, put my head on his chest and asked me how it had felt. I fought back my tears, thought about all the dreams and plans I had of our perfect future together and lied through my teeth, Perfect.



And what was clear unblemished skin, below the fading scars of the past, now holds three fresh cuts. But the wrist is thin and soft, and this time, the second cut’s a millimetre too deep. So she bleeds, she drops to the floor and she bleeds. She bleeds until the tears are dry, the blood’s dark and spread out all over the porcelain white tile underneath her palm, turning into one hard blot with the passing of each minute. Her head’s heavy and breaths are ragged. The sting from each time the shiny metal met her young skin is long gone. Her body’s numb. And then one final breath, her eyes close with her lips still parted. There will be no more pain, no more hate, no more nights spent crying till her eyes hurt. It’s over.

Worry not, sweet thing

You are but just 19. Your life awaits to be lived, memories await to be made, and many, many moments of happiness await to come alive.

Worry not, sweet thing.

Someday you’ll meet a beautiful man and he’ll treat you exactly how you wish to be treated. He’ll give you kisses on the cheek when you least expect it, tight hugs when you need it the most, tight hugs when you do those little things you’ll always do to bring a smile on his face, and flowers, just because you like them. He’ll appreciate you. With him, you’ll understand for the first time, what making love feels like. He’ll tell you that you’re beautiful. Your rituals won’t be silly anymore and he’ll understand how you value small joys and gestures.  The only pain you’ll feel with him would be your tummy aching from laughing too hard and the only tears you’ll shed will be ones of sheer joy. He’ll respect you and treat you with the kindness you deserve. He’ll understand you and your ways, You’ll never go to bed upset and feeling lonely, there will not be nights spent crying and mornings waking up with swollen eyes, you’ll never feel like you’re not a priority, you’ll never feel like a second choice again. You’d be the only choice. And he’ll choose you every day.

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She was two years younger than I am and yet, never have I ever so strongly lusted for someone as I did for her. Our encounter was brief, that night in the train is one that is forever etched in my memories.
During one of those long tunnel phases one goes through while coming from the north, she climbed onto my upper berth from her own and pushed me to lie flat. She kept asking me, ‘you want this too, don’t you’ and I knew my insides were screaming yes, yes, yes, but I said no and gently pushed her away. She may have been younger, but she was strong. She held me down and brought her face close. I couldn’t see her; it was too dark for that, but I could feel her warm breathe on my skin. She rubbed her nose on my cheek and touched her lips to it softly. I knew that second, I wanted her to kiss me on my lips, I craved it, but by then we had reached the end of the tunnel and the lights were coming back on. The moment was broken, it was gone. We separated instantly. My face was flushed. She smiled that flirtatious smile of hers and climbed back onto her berth. But that was the end of it. We never did anything after that. I remember saying goodbye, the fire that had been ignited at the very pits of my stomach with her touch, dying, as we reached her station and we parted. For the longest time, I wondered about what had transpired between the two of us. It felt wrong and I felt contrite, but nothing had so intensely excited me in a long while.
That night as I lay down to sleep, I questioned my sexuality for the very first in my life. I was ashamed and yet I was intrigued. It had felt forbidden and yet so utterly normal.


Unusual. That’s what I’d call what we have. I do not know if this is love, for the movies, the books and the music tell me love is forever and always, and this isn’t so. I never worry about the future, I never wonder if we’d grow old together. I sure hope she’ll stick around, anyone who’s ever had her in their lives probably would. She’s like those first rays of the sun after what seems like forever of dark, cloudy skies following the rains; ever instilling hope in your heart. Her happiness is infectious. I know I hold a special place in her heart, we’ve been together long enough for me to understand that.
She does these little things, you see, that make my heart melt. Things to make my bad days better and good days even brighter. She believes in small joys and finding happiness in the little things. If only you could see how her face lights up when I give her one of those long kisses on the forehead; her blush, when I put my arms around her, give her a squeeze and hold her tight; the sheer happiness in her voice, how it goes all soft, when I call her in the morning as I wake up, she loves my sleepy voice, she says.


His fingers clutched her hair and he held her as close as he could, as a single tear escaped his cheek and fell on hers. It broke her to see him sad, broke her even more when she thought about what was to follow. This was it, it was time to say goodbye. Goodbye to all the memories. Goodbye to this bond. Her arms around him tightened, she never wanted to let go of him, her breath ragged and her tears unending. They stood like this for what seemed like ages, until it was time to break away.

He makes small talk and she fakes bright smiles, and they try and make things seem lighter for the other. Efforts, in the worst of times. The rickshaw’s here and she gets on, her heart begs her to not leave, to not let go but it knows she cannot stay. They wave and say goodbye and as the rickshaw pulls away, her heart is in pieces and tears start again.

Every memory plays back, how they met, how perfectly annoying he was in the very beginning only to turn into her favourite person; the only one she cared about, how breathtakingly close they got and how things changed.

She’d miss everything.

She’d miss the long phone conversations in the summer, ones that seemed never-ending, ones she never wanted to see end. How easy it felt, opening up to him and trusting him.

She’d miss the one time she cooked for him and how despite its turning out terribly, he still ate all of it anyway.

She’d miss how she’d spent what felt like almost all of summer with him, meeting up almost every single day and spending the few hours they had limbs entwined, and in each other’s arms. How utterly, perfectly comfortable she felt, how she wished the summer wouldn’t end.

She’d miss her little surprises, how happy and excited her plans made her, how her only priority became helping him find happiness in the toughest and best of times.

She’d miss giving herself the cheesiest of names on his phone, changing his wallpaper to match hers and her futile attempts to make him adore cats as she did, forcing one cat video after the other.

She’d miss his hugs, oh so much, all she needed to make a bad day brighter, a good day even better.

She’d miss how she always had to look up to talk to him, how it would always strike her at the oddest of moments how tall he was, how perfect, and how he’d envelope her completely in his hold and make her feel perfectly tiny, perfectly safe, perfectly complete.

She’d miss how easily she could talk to him about things that were buried deep in her heart, only to be followed by insuppressible tears that he’d kiss away and end with comforting whispers.

She’d miss Modern Family marathons, Malayalam comedy to which they’d laugh till their stomachs hurt and chick-flicks he always seemed to hate.

She’d miss tagging him in all her favourite memes and flooding his notifications.

She’d miss how proud she felt of him, when he’d tell her all about Nazi Germany in the middle of the night when she’d ask, her favourite foreign relations and contemporary history teacher, the smartest man of his age that she knew.

She’d miss waking up in his strong arms, her slightest movements that would subconsciously cause him to tighten his hold around her and bury her head on his chest and she’d almost cry at how perfectly happy she felt, the kind of happiness she hadn’t felt in the longest time.

That one time, one of many afternoon naps, when she’d dreamt of horrible things having happened to him and she woke up terrified and relieved it was a dream and how she couldn’t stop sobbing uncontrollably while he held her and rocked her to calm.

She’d miss most of all, how it made her giggle when he’d rub his stubble against her cheek when she’d sit on his lap, her head resting on his shoulder. How she’d wrap herself around him and how it was her favourite place to be. Home.

She’d miss how utterly happy he could make her.

She’d miss all of it. She’d miss everything.

She’d miss her best friend, and she’s terrified of how she’ll get through.