Janani’s voice turned to a menacingly low tone as she pulled Anjan to stand next to me, by his balls, “Thambi, I’m three years older than you ar.... I own your balls, you own nothing of mine. So don’t you dare even think you can control me with sex”, and she spat into his face, and mine, and squeezed both our balls worse than ever. Our knees bucked and tears started streaming down my eyes.“Please, akka, it hurts”, I tried reasoning. “So”, was the only callous answer we got. It was clear that. Been ten years, three months, since last time. Know what you’re thinking. Thinking ‘ten years? not eons?’. Nope. Nature unpleasant–sure I’ve mentioned that before. Try my hardest, but nature tries harder. Can’t deny what we are. Never compromise with excuses, never forget. So, yeah, ten years and three months. Only know that because Artie reminded me last week. Like drug addict in recovery, like drunk in program–except when I fall, others do, too. Fell today. Quiet parts of me ask ‘Why?’,. More

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