OF LOVE IN NEW NORMALS
The day he saw his father beat masculinity into his brother,
A favourite lilac shirt soon turned up,
Amidst vegetable peels and cigarette cartons.
Yet, years later he smiled at the Rakhee around his wrist,
As his sister, smiled in her pink kurta.
She sat, wrapped in clichés, of blankets in cold December mornings.
She drank her tears, looking at pictures of herself; drinking homemade cocoa.
Tearing up the photographs of a man she loved.
The man of first loves, yet a father who left,
The day his daughter loved a woman.
He never did forget; the look on his mother’s face,
The day she caught them kissing on the terrace; hidden like secret lovers.
Disgust, in eyes that mirrored his.
Yet, his sister beamed, at the boy from across the street.
The day, they said ‘I do’.
She never knew the normal her friends seemed to be,
Was but one kind, of normal.
Felt the faint hues of young crushes, the tremors of passionate love
She saw her brother chase girls, she saw her sister chase boys.
Yet, the only normal she wanted to know, became
The day she realised, she loved both.