Tag: love

On Frankaffe, Sushrut Munje attempts to explain the necessity of indulging in the promiscuous river, if only to get to the other side. Sex cleanses you.

The Necessary Indulgence

You attempt to swim through the raging river and stumble a bit. It threatens to take you away with it and you lose your footing a few times. You take a dip, feel it the way it has been described, attempt to tame and fail miserably. The river knows no land. You seek land. But you belong to the river. How dare you dream of something the river does not understand? It attempts to overwhelm and a weaker man may falter Read more →

On Frankaffe, Sushrut Munje shares how beginning a new relationship is akin to the journey of a sail boat. He also expresses gratitude towards his past.

The Celebratory Hangover

We trace the lines of our thoughts while pausing in the middle of the rush. There is no patient Sunday afternoon that waits for this exercise. It is often an extra hour on a Monday night that has been squeezed through, which allows us to truly document our existence. This is no broadcast of political correctness, but a form of personal expression. The way we move about in society – conversing and interacting. Similarly, we write and bring forth what our mind stirs. It makes us what we are, for the future to read. Read more →

On Frankaffe, Sushrut Munje shares how affection, carefree laughter and willingness to bring down walls helps build a relationship. Poetry for a rainy evening.

All in.

“I’ll just keep this over here,” she stated, as her toothbrush joined mine in the mug. loved how it wasn’t a question. There is wonder in her eyes, unflinching curiosity of the world around. Her laughter provokes, and nibbles at my inhibitions. Read more →

On Frankaffe, Sushrut Munje shares how her presence pleasantly asks you to step out of perceived comfort zone, breathe in the fresh air and fall in love again.

Rolling in the Bloody Blues

A climb comes with an occasional gasp for air. A dance routine comes with a misstep. A song comes with a miss, a stare interrupted by a blink and you with dents to kiss. I trip for the freckles. I trip for the lock of hair which insists on falling over your bright eyes. I trip for the meticulousness of choosing wine over red, and peach over pink. Read more →

On Frankaffe, Sushrut Munje shares what it feels to be present in this given moment, drunk on her heady presence and her strength of a fine wine. Such delight.

The Pink Peach

Comfortable silence prevailed as we sipped coffee under the evening sky. Just the right amount of milk and sugar. Just the right bitter black. With the slight nip in the air and an occasional rustle, it was a certain November. She had been a song to hum along with. I looked out into the distance, as she sat beside me, breathing her in. Read more →

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