#anshika

tagging: @desi-lgbt-fest - I also actually wanted to say a big big big thankyou for making me feel so loved! I was super nervous to get involved but you have reblogged every single one of my posts with the sweetest tags and it really means a lot <3

i've already tagged her at the bottom of the post but also for @tumhari-bhairavi, you've been the sweetest about all my writing <333

Dear Amma,

I’m leaving for college tonight. Yes, me – your sweet little Padma…! I’m scared, Amma. I’m really, really scared. I know you love me no matter what. I know you will always be there by my side, calling me your bangara. I know that I have you and Papa, and Anshu, by my side.

Amma, no matter how grown up I am I will still be your little baby. Can I still be the girl that held your hand in the market? Can I still be the tiny girl you loved so much? This world hates me, Amma. You know I have always been so gentle. How do I survive in this world that hates people like me so much? I can’t love who I want to openly, so how do I hide the sweetest parts of me?

I can’t hold Anshika’s hand in public, or kiss her under the stars after drinking tea and taste the sugar on her lips. I can’t take photos with her in a booth or rest my head on her shoulder. I can’t stand in front of a crowd with a priest and lead her around the fire with a knot tied in our dresses, showing the Lord himself how we love each other. I can’t hide my name in her wedding mehendi. I might never be able to put a ring on her finger…!

I’m scared to go to college, Amma. What if they hate me too? I know the world is getting bigger but there will always be people determined to hate me for something I can’t control. Will you still love me even after people ask you where you went wrong as a parent? Will you still call me your vajra after people tell you to marry me off to some fine, upstanding boy to fix me? Will I still have a home with you, at least, even if everyone else despises me?

If you promise me that much, Amma, I will try my best. I will be a daughter you can be proud of. I will do whatever it takes if you just give me this one thing more. You have already sacrificed so much for my ambitions: please give me your blessings along with it.

One day, Amma, I will carry Anshika up the two hundred steps of Jejuri and stand before God who made us so beautiful. One day, I will make you so proud that you will ask me to carry you till the top of Kedarnath so you can thank Shiva for giving you such a fine daughter. I will do anything, everything I can, Amma.

I promise.

bangara - gold [language - kannada]

vajra - diamond [language - kannada]

This honestly hit really close to home for me. I relate to Padma a lot, always wanting my parents to be proud of me, and writing this was super emotional. I may or may not have cried but yk-

This was inspired by @tumhari-bhairavi's piece for desi-lgbt-fest-2022 day 3, fear.

I just wanted to write something today so here you go! this idea came to me in the middle of class lol, i was really stumped for what to write for this prompt so luckily i came up with something in the end!

also new ocs!! anshika x padma, i plan to expand more on them (and my oc-verse in general) during more of the other prompts

tagging: @desi-lgbt-fest - hope you like it!

Anshika wondered when the class would end. Her gaze strayed to the teacher’s moustache as it wobbled up and down with each sentence he spoke. She smiled lazily and twirled her pen around again, staring blankly at the many doodles in her book. Again, the teacher’s outrageously thick moustache caught her eye.

Fifteen minutes till the end of class.

She imagined what it might feel like to touch it. Hairy and gross, probably. She shuddered at the thought.

God, I feel sorry for his wife.

She cracked a lopsided grin at the thought, thinking about how terrible it would be to have to be the teacher’s wife and suffer through a kiss with that bear-fur moustache in the way.

Twelve minutes till the end of class.

Just as she thought she might fall asleep where she sat, a piece of paper was flicked onto her desk. In the blink of an eye, her expression brightened as she dropped her pen, looking eagerly at her girlfriend’s back.

Padma turned around, and flashed her a flirty wink. Almost immediately, Anshika blushed, and ducked her head to look at her lap while opening the note.

The note was simple enough: Five reasons you love me?

Anshika picked up her pen, genuinely deep in thought. There were so many things she could write.

1) You’re a smooth talker.

“Hey, Anshu!” Padma leaned against the locker, looking Anshika up and down. It was the school’s annual Own Clothes Day, and Anshika had spent hours picking out the perfect outfit, denying to herself that it was because she wanted Padma to notice her. “Cute outfit. I like the jeans especially.”

Although she’d prepared for that moment for nearly an hour the night before, practising a smooth thanks as she opened her locker, Anshika fumbled and blushed as she had to look away.

“Thanks…” she whispered. “I like your jacket.”

Padma’s smile grew as she twirled around to showcase the outfit better. “Really? Thanks, girl. You have a good eye for fashion so I know I did good.”

The way she’d said it, coupled with her killer smile, still made Anshika want to hide her head in her hands until she was composed enough to look up.

The memory made her smile even as she wrote it down on the paper. To think she’d ended up with Padma still awed her every day. She didn’t know how she’d lucked out, to have a beautiful, kind, loving, amazing….

God, that list could go on forever.

She shook her head, tapping her pen against her chin. Her eyes brightened as an idea came to her.

2) You’re a good dancer

It was a monsoon evening – Indradev was clearly determined to let Bengaluru feel the full might of his power, rain splashing down relentlessly, flooding the streets with cool water. Anshika looked up from her homework as a shrill whistle sounded outside her window.

She gaped, mouth wide open, at the sight in front of her.

“Padma?” she was out of the door in a second, clutching an umbrella and staring at her girlfriend in utter disbelief. “PADMA, you idiot! What are you doing?”

She ran to shield her with the umbrella, unable to take her eyes off of her gorgeous kurta that stuck to her damp skin, chest heaving with the effort of dancing in the rain, slim waist emphasised by-

Woah, woah. Slow down. She thought.

Managing to tear her eyes off of her girlfriend, Anshika looked up to see a mischievous smirk playing on Padma’s face. Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Padma? What are you-”

In one swift movement, Padma knocked the umbrella out of Anshika’s hand and kissed her on the cheek. Rain drenched her in seconds, making her thin t-shirt and skirt cling to her figure.

The spot seemed to burn with a lively fire as Anshika brought her fingers to touch it.

“Come on, baby!” Padma was already raising her arms to the sky, throwing her head back in bliss. “Let’s dance!”

Anshika had been too embarrassed to admit that she couldn’t dance, but the free, flowing way that Padma was moving seemed so liberating.

Soon, they were both spinning in the rain, their homework long forgotten.

Anshika hid a secret smile at how silly they had been – newly dating, getting used to the idea of being close to each other as more than friends. Relishing in the experience that would come to them perhaps once-in-a-lifetime.

Nine minutes left of class.

She had better get a move on if she wanted Padma to read the note before the end. She racked her brains for an idea.

3) You make me feel pretty

“Wow, Anshika. Looks nice, but… have you considered losing some weight? All the modern, fashionable models weigh around…” Tanul looked Anshika up and down as she curled into herself. “…ten, fifteen kilos less than you?”

Anshika’s throat felt dry and parched. Everything she had wanted to say died on her tongue as, not for the first time, she looked down at her body and hated what she saw. All this ugly flab… her stomach wasn’t toned at all and her thighs seemed so fat when she sat down!

Of course, she had felt that way before, but this was the first time someone else had pointed it out.

Just then, a small laugh cut across the silence. “What do you mean, Tanul?” Padma, her saviour, leaned her elbows on the table casually as she offered her signature tilted-head smile. “I think Anshika’s figure is really nice! After all, a bit of definition in terms of body shape suits so many more clothing styles than tall and thin.”

Padma turned to her, looking her up and down just as Tanul had done barely seconds ago. “Hmm… oh yeah, some of my clothes would look so good on you. Plus, you always wear those nice tops with those loose jeans-”

Anshika knew the ones she was talking about, but was flustered that she remembered. They were her favourite pair.

“-and with that one jacket you always wear, it looks so good.” For a second, Padma looked almost envious. “Most of the clothes I buy hang off me as if I was a scarecrow.” She held up her thin wrist laughingly, and suddenly, Anshika felt a lot better.

Nowadays, what with Padma complimenting her nearly every day (and her attempting to do so back despite her shyness), god knows she felt so much more comfortable in her own body, not so pressured to conform to the unrealistic standards all over the place.

4) You call me cute names

“Ay, meri jaan.” Padma swung a hand around her shoulders easily as they walked through the corridors, flashing her a cheesy smile. Anshika had blushed, and then returned the hug. “Good to see you too, Padma.”

“Sweetiepie, I don’t think that’s how you do it.” Leaning over her maths book as she explained a problem to her.

“Of all the things, you call me ‘sweetie pie’?” Anshika had deadpanned, brushing her away teasingly. “You lovesick fool.”

“You’re so smart, babe.” Pouting as Anshika corrected her Hindi homework.

“What’s all this ‘babe’, ‘cutie’, ‘meri jaan’ stuff?” Anshika asked her one day, amused. “If you focused so much on schoolwork as you did on giving me nicknames, you would be top of the class.”

“I want to give you nicknames that are as cute as you!” she had beamed. Winking at her slyly, “what do you think, meri jaan?”

After that, Anshika couldn’t find it in her to refuse the nicknames.

What was the newest one? Oh yeah, bantu or something equally cutesy. She would never admit it to Padma, not in a million years, but she adored the effort she put into finding her new nicknames almost every day. It was a lot more than just liking the names. It was one of the biggest reasons she was falling more and more in love with her every single day.

5) You give nice hugs!

The number of times Padma kept hugging her was uncountable, and although Anshika had never really liked hugs – these hugs were different. Warm and comfortable, and something about them felt just like coming home.

Anshika looked at the sheet again. It didn’t feel like enough. She always wanted to give Padma more love, more and more so she really knew how much she was appreciated and loved.

5 + 1) You send me memes at 3am whenever I can’t sleep

After all, if that wasn’t the indicator of true love, then what was?

With three minutes left until the end of class, Anshika flicked the note back over to Padma. Sure, she felt cringe, but it was all worth it when a smile lit up her face, as bright as a thousand suns.

The acceptance you hoped for vs the acceptance you got

Tagging: @desi-lgbt-fest

Anshika loved her parents. She loved them more than anything in the world, more than buttercups and more than summer days. She loved them as much as her girlfriend Padma, which was really saying something.

One of the biggest reasons that she loved her parents was their acceptance, their open-mindedness. Their willingness to shrug and accept that life was just like that sometimes, messy and chaotic and throwing everyone up into the air with no regard for how soft their landing might be.

“The universe can do whatever it wants, Anshu.” Her father had told her once. “It’s up to us what we make of it.”

She had been nervous coming out to her parents: accepting or not, open-minded or not, there was no denying the fact that for most people like her, acceptance with a loving family was a pipe dream. The most that people like her could hope for was not to get thrown out onto the streets.

It scared her sometimes – how three words could change her life so radically.

“Ma… I’m bisexual.”

“Bisexual? Kya bisexual? What is this, Anshu?” her mother was tight-lipped, unsmiling. Anshika’s heart had began to race, her hands balling up into fists.

“I- I like girls. And boys. Romantically.” She had blurted out, willing herself to not cry.

Her mother had considered her for a long second, and then turned around, the fabric of her kurti swaying gently.

“Are you serious, Anshika?” she had asked. Anshika had just nodded.

Later that night, she heard them talking between themselves in hushed, urgent whispers. At one point, she heard her mother begin to sob. Something deep inside her broke at the sound of her muffled tears. She hated that something that she held so dear, something that was a part of her, would make one of the people she loved most in the world cry.

“Bisexual? Where is she even hearing this? I didn’t even know what it meant, Manish!” her mother had said, and Anshika imagined her holding her head in her hands.

“It’s okay, Ashwini. It’s okay. She’s young, right? Maybe she is bisexual, maybe she isn’t. All we can do is wait and see. We want her to be happy, right? That’s all we can ask for.” Her father’s voice was heavy.

“You’re right, but I just can’t- why her?” Ashwini sounded defeated, asking God for the answers she didn’t know herself. “Why my baby? I just wanted her to be happy!”

Anshika covered her ears after that, feeling nauseated.

Ma… can I not be happy just the way I am?

But still, she was happy. She was content. Because the day after, her parents held her hand determined, and hugged her with their heads held high, telling her that they loved her and would do anything to see her happy with the boy, or the girl of her choice.

So yes, her parents accepted her. Yes, they wanted to see her be happy.

But still-

Her father always reminded her to be faithful.

Because bi girls are more likely to cheat.

Her mother always told her that she might find the right boy one day.

Because if she found a boy, it means she’s straight, right?

Her father suggested that she buy more lehengas and another gaghra.

The last thing they want is for her to look like a lesbian.

And sometimes when they told her they loved her, their smiles seemed a little worried.

Anshika loved her parents, and she knew they would always love her back no matter what.

She just wished that they would love her knowing and accepting that her sexuality was always going to be a part of her, that it wasn’t something that she could change.

Still, they were trying. They were doing their best with the little they knew. Her father bought a book called How to make your daughter feel loved, and read it every day.

Her mother hugged her more often, and made it a point to tell her that she was beautiful and confident and smart. They didn’t invite Padma to dinner, but they met her at the school gates and talked to her with smiles on their faces, knowing that this was the girl their daughter was dating.

They weren’t perfect, no. But they were trying.

And to be honest? That was all she wanted.

रांची के जगन्नाथपुर मंदिर क्षेत्र के मल्लार टोली से लापता भाई-बहन अंश (5) और अंशिका (4) की तलाश में पुलिस ने झारखंड, बिहार और उत्तर प्रदेश में अभियान तेज कर दिया है। दोनों बच्चे 2 जनवरी को बिस्कुट और लॉलीपॉप खरीदने घर से निकले थे, लेकिन वापस नहीं लौटे। मामले की गंभीरता को देखते हुए 4 जनवरी को एसएसपी के निर्देश पर एसआईटी गठित की गई। आठ टीमें बिहार के पटना, छपरा, मनेर और यूपी के बनारस समेत कई…

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Last night, I saw you again in my dream, Ashika. We were exchanging hand-written letters—silent messages passed between us, the kind that say everything without a sound.

Here I convey as I am talking to her:

Ashika, it felt as though you were missing me. Ironically, just yesterday, I was deeply missing you too. I tried to gather the courage to message or reach out, but I couldn't — at least, not yet. There’s a part of me that knows I need to find some stability first… because these dreams, these callings — your energy — they stir something in me that’s overwhelming.

I often wonder: when one of us starts to miss the other, is that when the dreams come? Is this some strange but sacred way the universe keeps us connected? I shared this thought with a friend recently, and he said something that struck me: “When someone shares a piece of themselves, it begins to shape the other.” Maybe this is that.

(There’s more I want to write about that thought — perhaps in another blog. But for now, I want to capture this dream before it fades.)

In my dream, we were together again, you and I — playing PUBG like we used to. But this time, you didn’t turn on your mic. You weren’t speaking, only watching me. You looked upset, distant — hurt that I hadn’t stayed in touch. I could feel your silence louder than any words.

Then something changed. I explained everything — why I’ve been silent, the chaos I’ve been going through, and how I never meant to drift away. When I said I’d reach out soon and reconnect, you softened. You smiled — relieved. And instead of giving me back my letter, you handed me a new one… with numbers written in a VERTICAL line, starting with a 7. It felt like your phone number?