Pride Month is a vibrant celebration where love paints the sky with colours of freedom. It echoes songs of unity, shares stories of courage, and dances in the heartbeat of every proud soul.
BSP brings you "Queer Diary," the diary of a young queer fresher exploring their place in the community at IITD. They pour their heart out in this diary, finding comfort in writing down their struggles and feelings.
29th July
Dear Diary,
Today was the day I’d been waiting for. I’ve finally moved out!
I must have checked everything a hundred times, but I forgot my toothbrush anyway. The sound of my suitcase being zipped closed still rings in the back of my head. I’m so excited about what’s coming, but I miss my mom more than I’d like to admit.
I met Sarthak, my roommate. He has a soothing voice, a graceful sway, and an unexpected confidence. When he was unpacking his stuff, I caught myself staring at him. Blood rushed to my cheeks. I don’t know - admiring him wasn’t wrong, but it still irks me for no reason. It always does with guys.
The rest of the day went by in a blink - orientation with the Deans, a departmental orientation, and then yet another orientation about security, the library, and…Indradhanu, the queer collective of IITD.
Queer - I hadn’t even thought of the word for years, much less heard it being spoken in a large gathering. I know I swore before Dad, and I’ll never mention it again. I still remember the way he looked at me - disappointed - all because I’d forgotten to delete my search history. Regardless, I felt something bloom in me when the man talked about Indradhanu. I never had a chance to truly find myself, but can I have it now?
As I listened carefully, I noticed that people were sniggering. Maybe this wasn’t as important to them as it was to me. But it didn’t really matter. There is a place for me here, with queer and accepting people, waiting for me to find them. And I’m going to.
Dad doesn’t have to know.
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10th August
Dear Diary,
I don’t know why I am like this.
I could have locked the door. I could have slammed my laptop shut the moment they barged in, Arjun and his group, but I didn’t. I didn’t even change tabs. It was right there, beautifully blasphemous.
Two boys kissing on my screen. And I, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. I’d just started watching Heartstopper. The show is so dreamlike and impossibly sweet. It soothed me to watch Charlie smile at the pretty blonde boy sitting next to him, almost like looking into a mirror for the first time. “It’s okay to be whoever you are,” I told myself. Or maybe it was okay until they showed up.
Most of it is a blur. I remember they were laughing. It wasn’t intended to be cruel, but that might’ve been the most monstrous sound I’ve ever heard. My face felt hot. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to disappear. I couldn’t even laugh along or crack a joke, anything to make it not awkward. I just froze as if I’d been caught red-handed.
Is it a crime to be this way?
I remember a lot of slurs. One of them pretended to moan, asking for a kiss. That broke me out of the trance, and I yelled at them to leave. They did. What followed was hours of sobbing into my pillow, the door locked this time.
I’m losing friends faster than I’m making them. Why can’t I just be normal?
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14th August
Dear Diary,
Sarthak might be the only friend I have left.
I thought the whispers and looks might blow over, but they didn’t. The incident spread like wildfire. They look at me with pity, like I am sick—everyone I talk to has avoided me. I feel like I’m suffocating.
Why can’t I just be normal for once?Eating in the mess is a struggle. Arjun leads the mockery, and everyone joins in. I try to tune them out, but it hurts—those who aren’t mocking me never speak up against it. No one wants to lose Arjun’s favour. For the last few days, I’ve been avoiding everyone, hoping they’ll forget about me. But the loneliness is crushing.
I know Sarthak was worried about me, but he had been busy with football practice.
But today, he was waiting for me in our room after dinner. He said it was getting too far, and ignoring everything wasn’t working anymore. I could feel it at the back of my throat - everything I wasn’t saying. He asked me how I felt, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
I started sobbing. I said I was ashamed of myself. I was spiralling hard. That’s when he put an arm around my shoulder. Somehow, that calmed me enough to actually pay attention to what he was going to say next,
“You have nothing to be ashamed of. I am and always will be your friend, no matter what, okay?” I still remember the kindness in his eyes.
I nodded, and he comforted me, promising to bring this up with our babloos. Then, he just held me close in silence.
Sarthak might be the only friend I have left, and I think that’s not too bad.
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2nd September
Dear Diary,
We had a hostel movie screening of the first Harry Potter movie last night. The babloos are trying to build the hostel spirit, I guess. It does seem to be working. I see groups forming in the mess. I’m still looking for my Ron and Hermione, though.
There are people with whom the words don’t make it out of my mouth. I think about my sentences four times in three seconds and still end up jumbling them.
But then there are people with whom conversation flows like the wind. I had some of those in school, but the only person fitting that category here seems to be Daksh.
He’s one of those people in your group that you notice every day but just never end up interacting with. I ended up sitting behind him in the MTL lecture today, though.
He’s fascinating, really. I never thought someone could simultaneously fit into the ‘cool kids’ and ‘comfort crowd’ tropes as naturally as he does. Less than two minutes into our first conversation, I found the tenseness getting slightly lighter. At one point, I might have even felt a butterfly. We ended up moving a few rows back halfway through the lecture just to yap.
Carefree. That’s how I feel around him. I mean, I might be getting too optimistic, but it feels good to find someone on the same wavelength as me.
It feels good to make a friend. Or, I don’t know, maybe something more?
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29th September
Dear Diary,
He added me to his private today at about three at night.
I might have spent the next two hours stalking his page from start to finish. I never took him for someone who would post a lot, but he really does quite often. Most of the posts are of him playing the piano. He’s… too good. I downloaded his entire discography and saved it in a folder titled “Daksh.”
I wanted to tell him in person how good his music was, but I couldn’t find him today. After classes, I sat in front of Sarthak’s old keyboard. I tried to write something. I don’t know much about music ‘theory’ or whatever; I just picked the notes I could imagine him playing.
Yes, I’ll write something. I’ll write a soundtrack to his existence and lodge it over the image of him in my head.
I feel like I’m obsessing over him and probably shouldn’t. It’ll achieve nothing but make me more anxious around him. I don’t even know if he is interested in me.
We walk back to the hostels together on some days, and sometimes… I don’t know; it feels like I’m forcing the conversation. Or maybe I’m overthinking. I just don’t want to end up looking stupid because it was one-sided this entire time. But then, I don’t want to overanalyse every sentence I speak, either.
He’s a friend, after all.
But I don’t want to be his friend. But I do. But I don’t. But I do. But I don’t.
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16th October
Dear Diary,
I’ve been trying to push myself to go out and participate in events when they come around, whatever they may be. Just being around people is good for me, I feel. Keeps me from thinking about other things.
There was a dog feeding event this evening. Nobody I knew was attending, but I figured that was the best reason to go. I ended up finding myself with a third year from my hostel - Rajol, and two other faces I didn’t recognise.
It was very awkward at first. Once we got around to the dogs, though, it was hard for any of us to hold our excitement in, I guess, so that loosened the strings. At one point, this little pup kept trying to chew at my laces; I laughed more than I had this entire semester. All of us did, really.
I walked back to the hostel with Rajol. Somehow, I blurted everything out to him in that 15-minute walk – my sexuality, the mess conversations that stung like a knife, Daksh – everything.
He understood. He said it was fine that I was gay. It’s a simple sentence, but the comfort it gave me. He also told me that he had queer friends and that it does get better with time. My chest has never felt lighter.
I guess this place isn’t that bad after all. And people aren’t that bad after all. I feel so good right now, and it’s making my hands tremble.
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10th December
Dear Diary,
I forgot how much I hated this. Five days in, and I already want to leave, winter break be damned.
Last night, we watched ‘Modern Family, ' and when Cam and Mitchell showed up on the screen, I saw Dad flinch. Then they kissed, and I felt a lump in my throat, pretending not to see it. He finally snapped and turned the TV off, murmuring profanities at ‘Western propaganda’ before storming off. My heart dropped.
It doesn’t hurt any less. I don’t think it ever will. How am I supposed to live knowing that my parents will never accept such a massive part of me? What happened to unconditional love?
If someone loves me unconditionally, it’s Didi. I don’t know what I’d do without her; she’s the only one who understands. I heard her try to reason with Mom after this happened but obviously, in vain. She was scolded a lot. I can’t help but feel guilty when she takes the fall for me. I should be standing up for myself, but it’s terrifying.
I talked to her after dinner and told her everything I’d learned about myself during the semester. She held my hands when they started shaking. Neither of us slept the whole night.
She apologised for Dad’s behaviour and told me there was nothing wrong with me. I know she’s trying her best.
She handed me her kajal. “Nazar nahi lagegi”. Then she kissed my forehead and did what she always does when I’m in a bad mood - crack stupid jokes. Only this time, they were stupid gay jokes.
I love her more than anything.
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7th January
Dear Diary,
I’ve never felt more alone.
Everything was supposed to work out. I’d rehearsed it in my head a million times. I had prepared a response for everything.
Everything except rejection. I texted Daksh to meet at Nescafe and smiled at his prompt response. “Ok!!” He uses too many exclamation marks. He was there, sitting at our usual bench, double shot in hand.
When I saw him, I almost turned back but convinced myself not to. Not when I’d come this far. After the pleasantries and small talk, I finally blurted it out. With a shaky voice, I told him I liked him - really liked him - and I couldn’t keep this from him any longer. The words burnt my throat as I spoke them.
There was this long, awkward pause; his face was contorted in surprise, and my heart was racing. Then he started talking, and every word was a crushing blow to my chest. He said he appreciated my honesty but was straight and only saw me as a friend.
I could sense he felt sorry for me, but I couldn’t take it. I still can’t. I don’t blame him; how could I have ever believed it would work out? I excused myself quickly, tears already brimming in my eyes. I didn’t wait for him to say anything.
Was I making it all up? Was I blind? I think I ruined everything by saying it out loud. I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have loved him from a distance.
I don’t know if he will even want me around anymore.
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14th January
Dear Diary,
Moving on hasn’t been easy, but I’m trying. For example, I just came back from the first pride march of my life!
I wore a hoodie over jeans, nothing too special or shiny. I’m not ready for that just yet. I also had Sarthak’s funky yellow scarf; that was all that made me look somewhat queer, in both senses of the word. I was almost too afraid to step out of my room after everything that had happened. But it was time for lunch. When I sat down next to Sarthak at the mess, he brought out Didi’s kajal. “I think it will look good. Mai lagadoo?” He explained he had learned how to do it for his little sister. He was so unbothered sitting next to me, applying kajal to my eyes in front of everyone. He didn’t seem ashamed of me. When he was done, he chuckled, and said, “Nazar nahi lagegi.” Suddenly, anything anyone else thought did not matter. I wasn’t ashamed of myself anymore.
As soon as I joined the march, I felt this strong sense of belonging, something I had never felt before. It made its way up to my throat, begging me to let it out, chant it, own it.
Hundreds of people with their faces painted in gorgeous, vibrant colours, many of them wearing kajal (like me) with the brightest smiles on their faces. I swear I have never felt so present before, taking in the moment. Everyone was bursting with love, and I was too. I still am.
This girl offered to take my picture with her pride flag, wrapped it around my shoulder, and flashed me the warmest smile from behind the camera. When we parted in the crowd, I turned back to look for her, and there she was, blowing me a kiss. I almost teared up then, and I am tearing up now as I write this. Although I went there alone, I never felt so. I found my family in a sea of strangers. If I ever love myself or anyone else, they’ll be a huge reason why.
I was looking for my people when I first came here. I think I’ve found them. I think I’ve found myself too.
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Written by: Hemang Mathur, Sanskriti Arya, Sriya Reddy Ryala and Umang Badetia
Design by: Pratyush Agarwal, Rayna Maheshwari and Sparsh Gola
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