Mama, I'm (not) Coming Home.

I am sitting here at the Bangalore Airport, waiting to board my flight to home to celebrate the festival season with the family. It is very early morning. The darkness has gone and it is getting brighter out there. First few minutes of twilight. It has been many years since the last time I saw a rising sun, and I am hoping to see one today. I don’t like twilight because they make me feel sad but when I say I don’t like them, I mean the evening ones and not the morning ones. I have never been that early to witness them, so have very little experience to form any particular feelings towards them.

As I am heading towards my parent’s home and waiting here has given me an ample amount of time to reflect what my feelings about home are. I am going through a lot. That’s why I decided to write it down. For last many years I have been struggling with the idea of home. Because what is home? What does it mean when people say ‘I am home’? And most importantly what is my home?  Where do I belong? 

As some of you probably know that I grew up in a small town in the state of Gujarat. I lived there with my family. We were pretty close family of five that includes me, my parents and my two elder siblings. I moved out of my home when I joined college in another town, nearby. I was still near to my home where I would pay my visits on weekends. Not all but many. After college I moved to Bangalore and weekend trips were converted into once-in-six-months trips.

Like most people, while growing up, my home was the best place in the whole world. I remember everything, however small, that I did there. In that house only I recognized myself as gay.  I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror; I looked into my eyes and told myself that “Parth, you are gay. Congratulations.” (I never struggled with my sexuality; in fact I was happy for being different). I remember how I used to change cloths keeping the window open so the neighbor guy can see me. Oh! Puberty. (He saw me every day changing cloths. without fail). You get the idea. Basically it was the best place.

But in college, I got to learn that ‘Home’ is a feeling and I was losing that feeling regarding my parent’s home. Yes, growing up as gay was one of the major factors. Rather than going back home, many weekends I simply stayed at college, I lied to my parents that I have to stay here to complete the project, while in fact I would cruise online for other gays. But the feeling that you will not be accepted in that home for who you are and in future you will have to move out actually made me move out mentally a lot sooner. Yes, it was an assumption but it already had its effects. I had started to prefer my crampy, semen stained hostel bed more than my bedroom’s soft bed. My home was not home for me anymore.

And since I have met A, my life has changed a lot. And one of the biggest changes that I consider is the idea of home is changed from a physical place to a person.  A is my home. I know making a person your home is very dangerous thing to do but that is the truth and he is my home. I hope that one day we will have a place which we both will call our home. But right now I am happy with him being my home.

I still think my parent’s home is a pretty good place where I am always welcomed and people living in that home are eagerly waiting for me to come. My parents are still hoping that I will be back there one day for good. Of course, it goes without saying that I have not abandoned the people, I love them very much and I will never leave them but I have abandoned the place.

So I will board this plane and will go to home and I will be genuinely happy to see them. I can imagine how my dad will tell my mom to cook my favorite dishes and mom will be like ‘you don’t need to tell me what to cook for my kid, I have already made that. Always one step ahead of you.’ And my sisters will stay for nights, so my niece and nephews whom I immensely love can play with me. And once they will be asleep, we will start gossiping about other family members. For the next whole week my family’s life will circled around me. I can see that  mom will keep start talking to me whenever I will take out my phone, or will send my niece to call me if I am not around her for more than 10 minutes. She will come out and stand at the gate if I am going out of the house. I can see her crying on the last day of my stay. Her eyes will be begging me not to leave and stay there.

I am sorry mom, but I cannot come back. I am not at my home. My home is different. I don’t belong here.

{P.S.: - I am back to Bangalore. I had a great holiday. I had forgotten to publish this post.}

WhatsApp DP

I had a lot free time today afternoon. After a heavy Sunday lunch I just wanted to nap for three hours. But alas sleep didn’t come. Just to pass the time I thought why not ping somebody with whom I haven't talked in ages. It will be good to know what’s going on with them.

I was going through my contacts on WhatsApp and saw a friend of mine with whom I had talked last time probably four years ago. Though we were school mates and grew up in same neighborhood, we were never friends. But we did care and had respect for each other. After school we went to different colleges and lost whatever little touch we had with each other. In the final year of my college when I was visiting my town we found each other on Grindr. It was surprisingly shocking for both of us. We met at our neighborhood's park and talked a lot about each other. He told me that he was engaged to a girl and planning to marry her. He was from a Marwari family and they had a very good already established family business of sweets. His family never gave much importance to his and his siblings’ studies. They were happy that he is at least passing the grade cause in the end he has to run the family business. When he accepted himself as gay it was already late for him to pursue a career and become financially independent. He tried hard but the foundation of the education was so weak that he couldn’t even finish the college and had to drop out. In the end he had no other way of becoming financially independent from his family. One time he tried to come out to his older brother, hoping that he'd understand but it turned out very horrible. His brother left him alone only when he lied that he wasn't gay anymore and had changed his sexuality.

I knew already that he was not a fighter but not everybody is fighter. Not everybody wants to fight. Not everybody can fight.

After a while I moved to Bangalore and we lost touch again. One year ago I had heard from a school friend that he got married. 

I was staring at his WhatsApp DP. It was a selfie of two couples. He was standing with his wife and beside them was the other couple. Everyone in the selfie looked happy and into the moment and I could say that they were having fun, except him. I could read his eyes. He was tired. Tired of pretending. His eyes were, may be, saying like he could give anything to be anywhere in the world than here.

I did not ping him.

The Day.

It was small village with the population less than 1000 people. He and his family lived in a home located in the middle of the their farm. There lived a family of five who were neighbors, also lived in a similar set up. They shared a good relationship with each other. He was fourteen and youngest of the three siblings.

It was Sunday and his mom had made khichdi for supper. Being the youngest he was asked to go the neighbor's and bring a cup full of ghee. Ghee goes well with Khichdi. Such exchanges were common between the families. He asked the neighbors' sixteen year old son who seemed to be alone in the house for some ghee. They stood together in the large store room. Alone. He reached for the top of the self. He thought he could do with some help. Before he could even realize their bodies collided as they made a simultaneous move for the jar. And then it happened, like the collision was just a simple nod that they were looking for. Nobody knows how it all began.

Few seconds later, his fear surfaced. He thought it was all wrong. What would bhaiya say? Father would most likely beat him if he'd come to know. He thought of pushing him away. He raised his hands, but the hands instead of pushing, embraced him and brought him closer and closer. All of it didn't take much time. Both were young. He took the cup full of ghee now and ran back.

His mom asked him when he gave her the cup, "what happened, why are smiling? What mischief are you up to now?"
When he first tasted the khichdi, it burnt him on the lower lip which bore a cut on it now. He added more ghee but it didn't stop burning. His hunger had grown only stronger after the evening. He finished the whole plate but his hunger remained the same.

My Struggling With Twilight: Part 3

Seasons play a vital role on our moods and based on it, people have their preference of seasons. AKA their favorite season/seasons. Even though it’s sunny and hot to the point that it can kill you, and tortures you till you could break yourself, I love summer, especially summer evenings. I grew up in Gujarat. And generally Gujarat is windy state, where coolest wind blows in winter from north that freezes you up and hottest wind blows in summer from south-west which almost roasts you. But evening winds are always comforting in summer. They mostly remain moderate. Also summer days are very long in Gujarat. Nights become dark at around 8 pm.  Pretty Long Days. Huh.

Summer usually starts from March to June here.  So generally I spent good amount of summer days in my college, staying in hostel with friends. Those were the carefree days with the worries only of some particular subject or a girl or a boy, and in my case a particular faculty. So come to the point I spent most of the twilight time, when going out of your home doesn’t kill you, with friends taking leisure walk outside of my hostel.  After dinner at 7.30 I and my friends especially Y, L, H and HH were used to take this walks. Sometimes we had company of V, D or some other friend.

My college was located on an aptly named college road with some other five different colleges so residential areas around the road were bustling with students.  On a walk one can meet their classmates or some just some small talk friends. My college was the largest one and was the last college on the road. Perpendicular to the road a canal used to flow just 50 meter further from my college, along with a dirt road parallel to the canal. (See image below). Also on the road, further crossing the canal A Hanuman temple was there which used to get crowded on every Saturday.

       

Now all those twilight and all those walks have many stories but not on a particular day. Each walk has something unique to tell or sometimes nothing to say. There isn’t a particular day that has something extraordinary tale. Sometimes we met a college friend whom we don’t meet in college cause he doesn’t come to college. Or Sometimes we saw a couple from our college crossing the gate of the college and disappear behind the trees where none can see them (God knows for what :-D ). Sometimes we saw college football team coming from their practice, all sweaty and wet in their shorts. It was a relief for my sore eyes. But most days we were just alone, talking in ourselves, laughing, ewwing*. And that was it.

On very rare occasions we used to go on the dirt road along with the canal. Mid road there was a fall in the canal, like a small waterfall. At that point the road had some stone walls like dividers so no one can fall into the canal. We used to sit on those dividers till it becomes dark or till police comes and asks us to leave because in their eye, every person sitting there was a potential suicider. While I was within the moment with my friends creating memories with them, I was also not there. It was the time of day which I hated the most along with my habit of thinking only about myself 24/7. I wasn’t out to them so I was unable to tell them very core feelings of mine. I always remained in a way out of the group. I knew that but I just couldn’t help it. I was busy balancing my “in closet” and “out of the closet” life. I always felt guilty about it, for being aloof. But then again days passed and twilights came and again we went for a walk and again I was the same.

Well, that’s it. This post is like a movie without a plot (most movies around the world). But I would like to thank my friends for giving me their time and memories to look at and smile at. I don’t remember our talks or the jokes that I made as I was the hilarious one but I do remember that I was happy because my friends were with me in those twilights. And I am grateful for that. For that I love them. At least some of them.
 

*Ewwing: An Expression where your reaction to the most of the things are just “ewww, that’s gross” 

My Struggling with Twilight: Part 2

It’s been quite long since I penned down my thoughts under the title “Twilight” and I thought it was high time I took it further, so here goes, part 2! I’m sure even the Twilight movies can easily beat me to it. Anyhow, this is another one of my trysts with Twilight.  

I’ll begin with what inspired me to write this down. It was just yesterday evening when I was waiting for him to arrive, and I stood by the road in front of a shop. The road that lay ahead of me wore a deserted look. There were a few stray dogs lazily strolling across the road and of course, one or two automobiles which seemed to suddenly appear out of nowhere zoomed past me. Apart from all this, it was relatively a dull evening, windless and it somehow made me feel sad and bored. Now that is a deadly combination, isn’t that! I have no idea why I hate this time of the day; I hate Twilight. As usual, He took a while to arrive, as he does always and as I looked around I could see a television playing inside the house across the road, through its window. All I could figure out was that it was probably a cartoon show and I could also see kids stuck to the TV screen. And this reminded me of the time when I was a slave of television.

It was the happiest time on TV, well before Ekta Kapoor ruined it all. The time when Star Plus wasn’t a popular channel but still was my favourite! I would avidly follow a show called “Star bestsellers” even if it meant reaching my tuitions late by 15 minutes! 

And there was this one show I could never watch but had only seen its promotional ads and it was called “Kshitij ke Uss Aur”(Beyond the horizon). The whole ad was shot during twilight. From the ad it looked like the story was divided into two parts, one was based in Mumbai and another on the other side of Kshitij in Shimla. In Mumbai, the shot was that of a Gunda who has kidnapped this young girl and had held her at rampuri knifepoint! And the other part showcased a couple in their late thirties sitting on a bench amidst pine trees with hot coffee mugs clasped in their hands and with sad, gloomy faces. Surprising! That’s where it all came to an end, the ad I mean!

And I guess the fact that the ad was shot during the twilight hour was the only thing what made it memorable to me. I wonder why. I don’t see anything special about the ad, not even the hunky gunda guy, not even the beautiful beach or breathtaking scenario of Shimla, but still! 

It is so gloomy! Both outside and on the inside! I am sad. I just wish every time I’m immersed in this feeling I have him by my side who would only make this worth enduring! J

Thanks to Richa, harish, Onir, Cindrella, Aamir and a thousand others for making a difference.

And yet, I don’t understand why every year at the end of April my parents invite the whole family for lunch. Mom says “family ko season ka first aam ka ras (we gujjus cant bear a summer without it) toh khilana padta hai na.” :’( and I’m always like “What the....???”.

Ideally in any family a get together means bade bado ke sath and bache bacho ke saath. But the sad thing for me I guess, was that I happened to be the youngest kid in family. And the next in line was 5 years older, leaving me all alone with none to play with!

So it was the same get together “mango” lunch for the so-called mango-crazy people. My school vacation had just started off and I was excited to enter the last year of my middle schooling (7th grade). I was 12 years old and as ignorant and innocent as any 12 year old could have been.

After lunch while everyone sat down chitchatting with each other in the drawing room, my elder cousin, who was I guess 19 years old back then in the context of a pakdapakdi game, dragged me into one of the rooms.

What happened next – I hadn’t imagined it in my wildest imaginations, the time froze and so did I. I was clueless. And the same thing continued for a span of 3 years. It took me that long really, to finally pull myself together and to reach a point where I could finally “disagree” or nod my “dissent”.

Finally when I went to college I got to know about the entire situation, I got to know that I am the victim or survivor of Child Sexual Abuse(CSA), the current laws of India, 2007’s report of UNICEF and Ministry of Women and Child Development - everything was just a mere disappointment.

Years passed and then I saw Harish on Richa Aniruddh’s show “Zindaji Live” on IBN7. I was glad and so happy to see that one person is trying to tell the world about the hidden reality of our society and more glad to see Harish for taking this courageous step of telling the world about it. Later in 2011 Onir comes up with the film “I am Abhimanyu” based on the life of Harish Iyer and Ganesh Nallari. And now Aamir Khan confronts the much taboo’ed topic in his show “Satyamev Jayate” leaving no stone unturned.

 I would like to thank those people who are trying to make difference and on the whole making the country more humane.

Thank You Richa, it all started with you. It’s you who took the first step to tell India that her future is falling prey to “abuse”. Thank you so much for being such an inspiration for others.

Thank you Harish, nothing much to say, you have been there fighting for it for years and we are all proud of you.

Thank you Onir, for such a wonderful film.

Thank you Aamir for leaving the whole India deeply moved with the hidden reality of our families.

And as per the latest news Child Sexual Abuse Bill has been successfully passed in Loksabha. Time to cheer.. yaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy….  

Ek time constraint se bhari bechari LOVE (?) story, with other affecting factors

Well this writing is all about how when you fall in love, you go on, you let disasters happen, the true pictures of your inner feelings come face-to-face, you witness this way too absurd state of yours, family and friends just brainwash you, and you are in the end, confused and clueless. It’s based on true story but as per the protagonist’s request I am here going to change the names. So let’s call him RAHUL (too common a name, waise bhi “naam to suna hi hoga”) and lets call her Anjali. ;)

Let’s first have their introduction.

Rahul: A boy next door you’ll find, simple and naïve and way too stereotypical, you know what I mean? Someone who never puts his bike’s key in a proper place just so it saves him time that would go into searching for it now and then, or never switches off the lights or the fan to save electricity, or never learnt to remove his shoes exactly where it should be so it doesn’t block the doorway entry, and many other things, you got it right? In short a typical Indian guy who is ecstatic about loud and noisy music and Sachin scoring a century is something more than a personal accomplishment for him.

Now Anjali: Well, I never got to know her personally, which is why I keep this bit low-key and free of any judgements.

So to start off, Rahul and Anjali meet through common friends four months ago. That evening Anjali who actually had seen Rahul once before and liked him, confessed to him about her liking. And Rahul without having any feelings whatsoever towards her, accepted it thinking “I don’t have any girl friends, so let me give it a try” :s

And then, long calls, after work meetings, Sunday night dinners, finally they had started to like each other. Mind you they just had liked each other. So one fine day in the presence of their friends, Rahul proposes to her, and she.................well....................accepts! J

And soon I got to know that the “proposal” was forced by a common friend. As they were headed out together they wanted him to propose to her in their presence (whether he wanted to or not, was secondary I guess, they didn’t bother to ask him, nor was he himself concerned about it). I wonder if he ever did ask himself this question “Do I love her really, or not?”.

Begane ki proposal main Abdulla Deewana..

And then in last four months nothing much changed, long calls were still happening as well as the meetings, but for one thing that changed - Rahul was in love with her. But she as it appeared, had yet not crossed the “liking” stage.

Kahani Me Twist:

Anjali’s parents were forcing her to get married (the time constraint shows up here), and so one day Rahul goes to meet her parents to ask for Anjali’s hand for marriage. All this while she still, remember, hasn’t crossed the “liking” stage, or should I be blunt enough and say - doesn’t really love him.

Why the hell did she agree to Rahul meeting her parents?

Her parents didn’t approve of Rahul as a viable candidate as he didn’t belong to their cast... Pweeeeh…


And now she wouldn’t go against her parents’ will!

Or her own will I guess??

Not clear at all…


But one thing is clear that Rahul is saved from falling into a trap, and it’s better that way to not marry her and end up in a love-less relationship. So she may have taken a wise decision in the end. Both for herself and for Rahul.

Rahul and Anjali’s common friends:

Now the common friends of the two, one who already has had 12 girlfriends in the past and one who is currently in an extra marital affair... are now bitching about Anjali and calling her a characterless woman. I wonder what they must be thinking about themselves? :P

Begane ki shaadi me abdulle abhi bhi dewaane hi hai..

And poor Rahul is trying hard to deal with such toxic remarks about her!

So now things are on a pause between them.

So things I want to ask, tell and want to think is that??

1. How “giving time to a relationship” is important?
2. What is the limit to which you must allow your family and friends to sneak
into your personal and private life?
3. I don’t understand when Rahul says that he couldn’t create love for him in
her. Can love be created? And if you think you can create love, do you
actually understand what love is?