The night of August 11th 2007Mature

The night of August 11th 2007

I caught my stepsister's hand,

Before impulsively telling her,

That if it hadn't been for her society,

I would have told her everything.


Semanti then told me,

That she had travelled much,

And seen all kinds of people,

Even so I hesitated,

Remembering what happened before.


Carefully, cautiously,

Did I explain,

That the western culture,

It would,

Refer to dad, Aunt Premala and Semanti,

As being straight,

Not in the sense of truthful,

Though truthful they were.


Ah Semanti, my dear Semanti,

Despite your difficult culture,

You made an effort to understand,

I love and respect you for that.


I explained very slowly,

That were I ever,

To enter a relationship,

It would never be with a man,

Though I did not complicate it,

By mentioning asexuality.


Semanti eventually understood,

Though reminded me,

Not to speak of it in India,

To which I quickly agreed,

She said we could hush it up,

Between the four of us,

I recall feeling bad,

About putting them in that position,

Though no longer do I fret,

About it being unfair,

To make them keep that secret.


I told Semanti,

Of her previous reaction,

Semanti admitted,

She had been young,

And not very mature,

Though now at nineteen,

Semanti understood.


Deeply relieved,

I thanked God,

With all my heart,

And I think it was then,

That the depression,

It lifted completely,

For though now,

Occasionally sad,

No longer did I,

Consider myself a depressive.

The End

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