Through the form of prose on Frankaffe, Sushrut Munje discusses the comfort of a gaze that's held, a drink that's shared and a bed that's cuddled on.

Affection

Share your bed, the blanket, the warmth. Shedding layers with conversations doesn’t get more real, as the two of us understand what we are, the way we are. And it’s perfectly alright, because the biases are gone, long forgotten. They exist for the outside world, not for someone you long to be wrapped around, and squeezed. Share your bed, it’s your space and not everyone’s feet look as pink in the sheets. Read more →

On Frankaffe, Sushrut Munje shares how regularly documented thought patterns lead to a fascinating read. Also, how having the balls to confess is liberating.

Balls to Confess

Since I started documenting my musings since I was young, it has provided me the benefit of documenting the evolution of my thought patterns over years, in quite a public spectacle. Rains have always made me fall in love with everyone and everything around me. Yet, also reminded me of a sunny afternoon that’s no more. Read more →

On Frankaffe, Sushrut Munje shares how writing is an intense, deeply emotional activity, like taming the storm within. Anushka Gupta, meanwhile, stirs well.

My Inability to Stir

My inability to stir stems from a trait to move on from things which do not stick around. What I ought to realize is that sugar does not dissolve at a first go, and it takes patience to make your drink sweeter. It’s a thin line to toe, for once the drink has been sipped, the mug needs to be washed clean. It’s tempting to hold on to it, once you get into the stirring habit. The warmth never really leaves it. Read more →

On Frankaffe, Sushrut Munje writes poetry on the reckless nature of tumultuous passion, quite like unplanned yet ecstatic spurts of acrylic on canvas.

Reckless

When the moon shines bright, it’s a good night to fall in love. Her words set the tone. Do you smell the summer spice in her hair? Feel the wind hug you in its entirety, and her. When the scent of the night flowers lays insistent, it’s a good time to fall in love. Taste the rain, do you, it comes like she does, slow and heavy, wet and thirsty, you gasp like you have never had. Read more →

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