In a society where majority makes the rule, where the language is shaped by patriarchy, where we are too afraid to accept a change, the position of LGBTQ people are as vulnarable as the position of women. Both are victims without any proper cause. Both have their own tales of shadow-fighting. Queer people are there since the first days of civilization. We find their possible instances in Ancient Egypt. Khnumhotep and Niankhkhnum are believed to be the first recorded same-sex couple in history. We read about their tragic fates in Christpher Marlowe’s Edward the Second. Still, even after so many years of journeys, we pretend that we haven’t noticed anything. When we see two homosexual person are showing love for each other or getting married- we react in a very ‘queer’ way. Either we criticize them and avoid them, or we become over-enthusiastic as if something extra-ordinary has happened. This is not what we call ‘acceptance’.
We dream to live in a world where in an image of homosexual marriage, we will just see two loving souls who are taking promises to be with one another for the rest of their life. We will not praise or criticize them because of their sexual identity. We dream of a world where the only extraordinary thing that will exist is love… a world where the Shringara and Shantha will win over the rest of the rasas. Here, we will go through a beautiful rendetion of the nine rasas and poems written by poets from LGBTQ community, curated and expressed by Nikie Bareja.
शान्तं / Calm ‑ Transformation
you take these fingers
bid them soft ‑
a velvet touch
to your loins
you take these arms
bid them pliant
a warm cocoon
to shield you
you take this shell
bid it full
a sensual cup
to lay with you
you take this voice
bid it sing
an uncaged bird
to warble your praise
you take me, love
a sea skeleton
fill me with you
& i become
pregnant with love
give birth
To a revolution
अद्भुतं / Musing ‑ Surprise
I wonder did each flower know
As well as now just how to grow
In that far first early spring
When the world was made.
Or did they make mistakes as I
Make very often when I try
At first, and try again,—perhaps just so,
As you and I, they learned to grow.
बीभत्सं / Disgust
And what if every image
That passes through your thoughts
Was freed from its prison
To roam until it rots?
Would you be disgusted?
Would you look away?
Would you rather be blind
Than see your thoughts at play?
भयानकं / Horror ‑ Terror
For those of us
who were imprinted with fear
like a faint line in the centre of our foreheads
learning to be afraid with our mother’s milk
for by this weapon
this illusion of some safety to be found
the heavy‑footed hoped to silence us
For all of us
this instant and this triumph
We were never meant to survive.
वीरं / Courage
The big rainbow kite nodded: “Ah well, goodbye;
I’m off;” and xe rose toward the tranquil sky.
Then the little orange kite’s paper stirred at the sight,
And trembling he shook himself free for flight.
First whirling and frightened, then braver grown,
Up, up he rose through the air alone,
Till the big rainbow kite looking down could see
The little orange one rising steadily
रौद्रं / Fury
Dear Straight People,
You’re the reason we stay in the closet.
You’re the reason we even have a closet.
I don’t like closets, but you made the living room an unshared space
and now I’m feeling like a guest in my own house.
कारुण्यं / Heartache ‑ Melancholy
The year you turned eleven
Was the first time you said out loud that you didn’t want to live anymore
In therapy you said you wouldn’t make it to 21
On my 21st birthday I thought about you
You were right
At 19 you started to fade
I tried to cross you out like a line in my memoir
I wished I could erase completely
And maybe I’m misunderstanding the definition of death
But even though parts of you still exist
You are not here
Most of my friends have never heard your name until now
I’ve been trying to write this letter for 6 months
I still can’t decide if it should be an apology or not
हास्यं / Joy
Nourish beginnings, let us nourish beginnings.
Not all things are blest, but the
seeds of all things are blest.
The blessing is in the seed.
शृङ्गार / Beauty Simpering Self Ardor
I have learned not to worry about love;
but to honor it’s coming
with all my heart.
To examine the dark mysteries of the blood
with headless heed and swirl,
to know the rush of feelings
swift and flowing
as water.
The source appears to be
some inexhaustible spring
within our twin and triple selves;
The new face i turn up to you
no one else on earth
has ever
