Prologue "I was taught that God listens to every whisper. So I have learned to whisper her name only to Him. Siyaara. I say it when azaan ends and the silence feels heavier than prayers. I memorised every boundary that were told to maintain. I memorised the way her bangles sound whenever she walks. One was for my Imaan. The other was for the nights I can't take back. What does it costs to love a girl, whose name I hide everytime I raise my hands to pray? " - Rahil. "Everytime I stand in front of Shivlinga, all the places I broke myself trying to be loved are filled in my eyes full of tears. I was taught that Gods live in stone and flame. No one taught me what to do when a boy named for mercy started feeling like my prayer. RAHIL Five letters. One sin my mother would call it "ninda". I know every verse from Gita about detachment. I know exact pitch of his voice when he says "Bismillah" before crossing the street away from me. One was for my Moksha. The other was for the nights I cannot confess to my Mandir. There is a temple where I stand lighting diyas for the Gods I suppose to trust. There is a Masjid where he bows to God whom I'm not allowed to name. Between them lies a road lined with "what will people say?" They named me Siyaara-the star, pure. And he, Rahil- the traveller. You were meant for travelling Rahil. Why did you stop at me?" - Siyaara. Between azaan and aarti, between halal and forbidden , their love grew like a blue orchid - beautiful, wrong and impossible to break. These are the Scars of Faith .