Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Let’s forget and party.

Few martyrs dead. A city drowned… A year gone. 2008 would daunt, haunt and taunt India for her Misanthropic nature. I look at 3 of the many tragedies that India has ever witnessed.


Is that a raindrop on your cheek or is that a droplet of tear?

My colleague Nisha, had visited Bihar on a pilgrimage. She expressed her peevishness at the murkiness of the poverty there. She had quintals and quintals of grains donated to the needy. And it still couldn't feed well. Thanks to the gods of Bihar. Those close to the temples were blessed with a morsel. How sad though, that we need a pretext to help. So if there were no temples there and no gods, there would be no living? The land of absolute lawlessness she witnessed, where people would storm inside reserved compartments and beat up anyone who didn't relent to their demands and open the train door. It is justified. Look at things from their perspective. They have just emerged from the most catastrophic events. Imagine water gushing into your house and you have nowhere to run for cover. The water doesn't only wash you off merely, but also dissolves your identity completely.

We do not forget. We don't turn indifferent.

Mumbai wept for them. Kind souls sent in few old clothes. A few months later, there were some caring people like Raj Thackeray whose men beat up some taxi drivers and some students who were from Bihar and UP. The people watched. The police watched. Actually, why have the police in the first place? Raj Thackeray knows well about the law of the land. He has gone to schools where he has been taken special lessons in compassion. Give the reigns of our state in the hands of Raj and MNS I say! They know what democracy is. And they donot misuse it. They just beat up anybody and everybody that they don't believe in. So what? Big Deal.

Amarnath Yatra

In a hurry to meet god, they reached heaven when hell broke.

What was the need to hurry? Why didn't we queue up? And why blame politicos for our inability to discipline ourselves? God can't bring the dead alive. But god can make people die. This is an insult to godliness by Humans. But some saw an opportunity to milk the valley. It would've been so nice if we had BJP winning votes minus religious agenda.

We do not forget. We don't turn indifferent.

The valley is green, BJP noticed that. It was death in a hindu shrine. the chief minister was Muslim. Wao, what an opportunity. And a prohindu party was blessed by amaranth. Kudos to BJP for seizing the opportunity. And kudos to the people of valley who fell to the trap. Why think when you have so many opportunists

Bombay Terror Attack

Forget Dhoni and Khusboo. Let's build a Temple for the Terrorists.

The 26th day of every month would be looked with a lot of scare. 26/7 to 26/11 Months have changed, but the date of tragedy has been permanent. On 26/11 terrorists stormed the TOT hotels (Taj Oberoi Trident) and created a blood bath of sorts. Kids of 21-25 years were armed with a uncompassionate will to destroy everything that came their way. Wish we were armed to combat them. Wish we acted and not reacted later after the damage was done. There were candle light marches. There were interreligious prayers. All because of these 10 terrorists who created havoc. Do we need terrorists to teach us lessons of unity? Then in that case, lets build a temple, a mosque, a synagogue, a gurudwara for the terrorists. They have gotten us united. Terrorism this time around was different. Previously there were bombs, this time there were actual people who were terrorizing the city> terrorism now, had a face. "Ajmal Kasab"

We do not forget. We don't turn indifferent.

As we raise a toast for those who have braved the guns and "Posthumously" let's get into our very evangelist "sprit" and donate money. A couple of thousands for your heart that just bled is a great idea. Hello! We need to do something for the dead and those turbulently alive. We know this is not our nature, but a social compulsion. Wouldn't the world say, here he has been making a living, but has not done anything for those affected by the killing. We have to lessen the weight of our wallets for a cause.

No money, okie, second option, join the herd. Peace marches are the best way to get noticed or light a candle re baaba. No one will point a finger at you and question you for being numb, comfortably. Yes, there will be a few people who will say that these are ineffective. But why care a tuppence. Just happily have your middle finger on display and move on, light another candle, mouth another slogan.

I dare not be judgmental about people's ways to express their solidarity. But I wish to state, that there has to be continued efforts. Jessica Lal found justice just by these peace marches. But for issues louder than that like terrorism. Peace marches have to migrate to the next phase. We had stated anti political slogans during the peace march on 03 December, and we demanded that Vilasrao and RR Patil who dismissed the terror attacks in Mumbai as a passé be replaced. Vilasrao was replaced by a young MBA graduate. And RR Patil was replaced by Bhujbal who has a history of corruption. Why was there no voice raised? We have forgotten? Shameless we should be to turn a blind eye to this. In fact Sharad Pawar has so much confidence in spiritless ever Ghajni Style Forgetfulness of Mumbai that he has given RR Patil an important place in NCP. You never know, the next elections, we might have RR winning and we again whining.

It's ultimately our choice.

We let the terrorists in. We got bought by terrorists.

But we revolted. Revolted after all the damage was done.

It has been such a devastating year with shamelessness at its peak. Think innovative, for people have a short memory span.

As I say, it isn't a revolution if it dies. It is then just a maddening outburst of emotions.

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

I was hit by Qusab’s bullets!

I am a nameless individual in the still so lovely Bombay. As I lie here, there are somethoughts that I wish to share about that eventful day. 26-11. I am a survivor of terror attacks. And this is my story.

It was just another day. I walked inside CST station for my usual round up. As I walked in I heard a loud noise.... "Thudddd". Suddenly I could see people storm out of the station frantically. The noise was so loud; it scared off the dogs out too. I could see some stray dogs running out of station with their tails ducked between their hind limbs. As I peeped inside the station, I could a man firing indiscriminately at innocent people. It was a dreadful sight.

Suddenly, I could hear an announcement made by my friend Zende. The terrorists couldn't make out from where the announcements were made. But they did fire bullets and Zende hid behind a mask. People were warned not to take the front entrance as there were terrorists there.

I was at the front entrance and I was scared. But how could I just stand there without doing anything. These were my people who were shot. This is my station. This is my street and This is my Bombay. I couldn't stand there doing nothing, even if there were many who did nothing. Some officials fled the scene, some stood there behind whatever wall they could find and gave the terrorist a fight. I walked in the station with fear in my heart and fire in my belly. I went straight to terrorist Qasab (yah yah the same guy you watched in the News). I looked at him Eye-To-Eye and hollered at him. I gave my vengeance a vent. Foolish I was people might feel for standing there next to him, it was like committing suicide. And it was. He lifted his rifle and shot me. I collapsed. I lied in a pool of in enormous pain. I was dying in my station which turned a battle field. I tried saving. I stood in front of the bullet. I tried saving my people. I did try. But I failed. I failed miserably. I was drenched in blood and all the blood was not mine. All was red. It was difficult to say, which blood stain was whose.

I waited for death to bless me off this pain. But, I was destined to live I guess. After the terrorists fled the scene. People, living and dead, in horrendous blood bath were rescued and ushered in to different hospitals. I was taken by a good Samaritan to a hospital in Parel. I am at the ICU fighting for life.

I should be free soon, I have a fighting spirit and I want to live. I will go back to my station again. I will stay put there and be on guard and again scream at any suspicios person who dares to shake my Bombay and her people. I love Bombay.

But I also know, that I might be killed by my own Bombay for trying to save them. You know, if I spot someone looks suspicious and I scream. And if he turns out to be just an ordinary guy and complains to the authorities. This mistake could cost me my life. I will be dragged by the BMC and killed.

I just wanted to tell you Bombay, still. Whatever the end result be, I will try to save my Bombay and her people, or will die trying.

Yours Obediently!,


Sheru is recuperating in the animal hospital.

Kudos BMC, you should kill NUISANCE stray dogs. And thanks Bombay for supporting this by being silent this time and not speaking for the speechless Sheru and his ilk. Let the dogs die. We will put all our energies in killing them, but not 50% of the time, money or energy in sterilization programmes which have been a super success all across the world. Killing is easier.


I recollect that I did receive a call (via Mumbai Terror Helpline) by some kind soul who asked me for the number of NGOs for stray dogs and narrated the story of a stray dog screaming at the terrorist until he was shot by the rascal. I donot remember who the kind soul was and I have not stored the number. If you are the person. Please call me, id love to meet you.

Thursday, December 04, 2008

will post soon

thanks for visiting my blog. im on a brief blog-hibernation due to my mba exams with nmims. will be back soon. in the meanwhile, please do record your reactions to my posts. it is a pleasure to read them.

mentioned below are some popular posts of mine.


date stamp changed from 04 June 2008 to 04 December 2008 for the purpose of sharing in facebook and to speak about abhimanyu. 

to co-own Abhimanyu visit

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Bombay: The City That Sleeps

I have finally managed to cry... and as I write this post there are tears trickling down my cheeks. Bombay is such a beautiful city, and look at what a bunch of maniacs have done to my beloved Bombay. I don't want to reinforce clichés. Bouncing back to normalcy, now, But that's what we  call the "true spirit of a resilient Bombay"? To feel sorry and then turning indifferent in a spitz second???? We are angry, we are upset, we are shocked, we are dead… but we are smiling. Smiling, not because we are immune, but because we fear to fear. There is fire in our belly and there is pain in our hearts. But we are smiling. Still smiling.

I work at masjid, which is one station away from VT (CST) the station that was also attacked. When In the train, I heard some "rumor" about terrorist attacks. I had a co passenger who started weeping. I realized that this indeed "might not" be a rumor. I got down the train and took a cab to the terror site. TAJ hotel. There was chaos. There were people running helter shelter. No one could make any sense. Suddenly, for a splits' second rationality harbored in me, and I thought it made no sense waiting over there. So, I returned home and all through the travel from office to home I wondered what I could do to help. I came home and started the and I received my first phone call around 40-45 mins after I started it.

Amnesic, I am in normal times. So the question of remembering my first call is far too much to expect from myself, given the turbulent times. That was the first call. And then there was another, and another, and another, and another. Frantic relatives and friends from across the world started calling me. I have no clue. How they reached my blog, even before I had submitted it to google search. Probably it was the chain email that I had sent to all in my contact list that did the magic. May be someone added my blog to the list. I scanned the websites and found the Mumbai Help blog. A wonderful initiative by Peter who goes by the name zigzacly. Through that blog and through NDTV I managed to update people with real time information. There were people who were applauding me. But there was no time to pause for applause. I went on, every call had a new story. Every call dealt with a new life. I transmitted howmuchever hope I could, I lied to those helplessly down that things would be fine. I knew, heart-of-heart though, that things were getting worse. Casualties were increasing.

People from all nationalities called me. There were 4-5 or more callers from Singapore. And most of them, ironically, if I can remember were calls by sons looking for their father. I don't remember which call was who. I am definitely mixing people. But there was one caller who was trying his father's number and couldn't reach him. His voice was chocked when he called me. He breathed on to the phone receiver more than he spoke. I took the number of his father from him and called, father was fine. I informed the son. And the son took the phone and stayed mum, mum for a long 3-4 minutes, I was scared that the son has suffered a heart attack. Suddenly then, I heard his voice. He said "Thank You"."Thank You"

There was this other person who wanted to speak to his friend to tell him that he was sorry. I looked at the deceased list and informed him that his friends name doesn't feature, so there is hope still. The caller was an optimist and believed that his friend would be fine. But I got a call from him in a while. He told me that he will not be able to say sorry to his friend ever.

I am a diehard positive being. But I have started believing that when the time has come, then the time has come. Ashish Chowdhary, Sabina's husband, Rabi's friends all were hoping against hope. And when their hopes were smashed it hurt me terribly. It hurt me terribly, to see Ashish who just a while ago, had been seen speaking confidently to the media about his sister, drowned in tears. I wished I could be with him and hug him. Rabi's son was orphaned, he was with his nanny.

My phone kept ringing, but I had no time to shed a tear. I also got some calls from Media people from BBC, CNN, Los Angeles radio, Khaleej Times, TOI and many more. Their questions were crisp and my answers, live and unedited. It was important to speak to the media. The media has a super role to play in situations like these. And if our commandos are to be saluted, so are some people from the media. Meanwhile, I had Limin, a media student of Khalsa college and Demetrius, a media student from Wilson College, both shared the responsibility with me for a while. I could then take the much needed break…

My back was aching and I lay numb. Day passed, night enveloped. The frequency of calls reduced. I had time to reflect.

I wondered, how this mayhem? From where did the terrorists enter? It was the sea. But don't we have coast guards? How did they walk to VT station? No one watched them? How is that possible?

I understand now. In the city that never sleeps, probably someone has overslept. Someone has overslept. Someone has overslept.

Saturday, November 29, 2008

Resilience???What’s Resilience? Fuck Resilience!

Resilience, the very word has become a swear. How long are we going to fool ourselves with these clichés? I wish to inform you, that Bombay doesn't have a choice. Bombay has to travel by trains. Bombay has to work to live. Come Bomb Or Terror, Bombay will have to be on her toes. I repeat she doesn't have a choice. Bombay is inane. And her inanity is thanks to clichés.

Business and busyness, Bombay has just 2 attributes.

Response to the stimuli Or reaction only when there is action. We will not act… only react, isn't it? How many bomb blasts, how many deaths, how many blemishes would it take for us to preempt terror… especially when there has been a spate of terror attacks? When will we wake from our sleep and when we will get up and scream? We have been far too silent… and our act of cowardice and numbness is called "resilience" Do we even realize. We have become a joke. More bigger a joke than what Indian politicians are.

We either praise or we criticize, Bombay is incapable of doing both at the same time.

I Applaud and Salute the officers who sacrificed their lives. I have immense respect for them.

But isn't it true that the whole drama could have been averted had the coast guards been vigilant.

How the hell did these terrorists enter from the seas. ? can anyone enter like that, without being seen? WAO. (pun intended)How on earth did they walk so calmly with arms and that too, arm in arm?. Why did we buggers see them and not do anything… ? Did we think that the guns are toys from Leo Mattel?

Perhaps we did. They fooled us. They fooled the fools.

Thursday, November 27, 2008

Mumbai Terror Helpline

I have started a new blog..

Please send updates there... lets help online...

Mumbai Blasts.

Are you in a foreign country and are frantically trying to find if your loved ones are safe???

Please drop inthe numbers and names of your loved ones.. I will try calling them.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Arse You Like It!

watch it! you definitely will like it.  people have been unanimous in awarding john the best butt award. but as far as the movie dostana goes, the reactions have been mixed.  my blogdost shobhaa de and some others think that this movie is a butt of jokes on gays that reinforces the clichés that exist... and treats them as odd and ott. de ends her article in BT with a note about john's butt is far more expressive than his face. 
this time i disagree with my lovely blogdost. yes, abhi has acted very very well, if i were in the jury i would give abhishek the award for best actor. i consider him an effortless actor. but i also see johns acting improve over time. and his performance and looks in this movie are wao. yes, he doesnt have that naughty smirk in his face as abhi does... but his face is so, and what will john bechaara do, if he is made like this. 
i love john for his offscreen camaraderie as well. he is totally devoted to social causes and whatever he says is believable and straight from the heart. im sanguine about him being genuine and truthful. 

yesterday, i had been invited by vikram doctor to the special screening of dostana at famous studios. i had a chance to meet tarun mansukhani the director of dostana there, he seemed quite a jovial and kind hearted human being. down to earth that he was, he had no airs about being such a talked about director. 

this movie is special to me becau
se it helped me come out to my  sister. here is an anecdote that i shared with the media as well.  on saturday, i had watched dostana with my sister laxmi who is 13 year old. she throughly enjoyed the movie. post the movie, i thought, the time now was appropriate to come out to her. when we were in the escalator, i told her, that i am gay. she didnt react for a few seconds. and then all of a sudden she asked me..."are you gay like john, or are you gay like abhishek". 

isnt that sweet. :-) the reel helps you in real. 

here are the videos and the article.

NDTV 24x7 
Zoom TV

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Not Sorry For Sex!

Eyes, nose, mouth, teeth, chest, abdomen, leg, feet … what ever happened to the penis and vagina? Remove the god damn underwear from school textbooks, I say. Let us not spend their lives till adolescence in curiosity and ignorance, till finally, and many-a-times after a few experiments with peer, the horny dear and near, we understand the growing urges and functions of the protruding edges.

That's childhood for us. A trend that continues to adolescence to adult hood and all through life. We choose to have a weighty heart in our endeavor of safeguarding our extremely sacrosanct bodies. If you are a woman and also a widow or a divorcee, the society turns a blind mind to your hot flushes in the night, getting you to find refuge in a life saver carrot or fingers to relieve, but sex… "oh! What will society say?" I wonder how long? How long will we continue to torment our women with our make-believe sex-guards? An invisible thread edged out by the alpha male and foolishly and cowardly practiced by women to trouble their kind. That's so so unkind.

It's okay if you teach your kids to be responsible and treat sex responsibly. It is okay, if we educate kids and tell them that there's an age for sex. But we just wouldn't do that. For us, sex is bad and one should abstain from it. So, if a woman is thirty and plans to be a spinster… she dies a virgin. Isn't it? And no one teaches growing kids how to deal with orgasms. Telling your kids what a condom is … oh! That's too farfetched a thought… I have seen girls at puberty fret thinking that they are going to bleed to death. In pursuit of maintaining the ISI seal, 'the perpetual virginal state' until hubby does it apart.

"… You are destined to Abstain from it. Nature has chosen you to be this way", tells a mother of a young 22 year old chick, who is a divorcée. This girl barely had a few sexpisodes until she had to deal with the harsh and untimely estrangement with her husband. But what about her sexual fantasies? what about the innermost urges?… society, is abruptly vociferous in condemning and defining what (according to them) is natural and unnatural. Isn't the urge for sex natural? She desires sex, but has no intention to remarry. So, if she 'does' she is a Devil, if she 'does not do' she is a Devi. That's how the male chauvinistic society wants the woman to be, Devi and Whore. Just 2 compartments. Period.

But is it any different to men? Yes, to an extent, and no, to a large extent. If women's sexuality and sensuality has been most thought about, the case with men has been more tabooed. Yes it is. At least women discuss sex and body with peer; men don't (as much) discuss their issues and their body as much as they do about woman's bodies and their sexpedition (only in the realm of fantasy). We don't even discuss the brand of underwear. All agony uncle columns are flooded with doe-eyed worries about penis sizes and queries about the ill effects of masturbation. Why so? Because, the average male finds it uncomfortable to discuss about the issues and queries that he faces. In a group of boys there often is a discussion about how orgasmic a time he had with his girl, but wouldn't ask so freely about whether the size of his penis is adequate enough. It's interesting to note that many men don't know what a clitoris is. And many are ignorant about how to position their penises in their underwear so that it's most comfortable. Pain in the balls… dammid… we men face it too. But none speak about it, so it remains hush-hush… and thus doesn't stand a competition as against pain experienced by a woman in the chumming period.

What's alike in men and women is the heavy heart that they have after having sex. "I am sorry" is the expression after a stimulating session of love-making. As if, they have committed rape or treason. It is interesting to note that this feeling of guilt comes in with the spurt of cum. Till the couple is involved in the act, its heavenly orgasmic, post orgasm it's a sinister. Such abrupt is a shift of paradigms, many a times leaving the mind befuddled.

Why should someone be sorry for sex? Why is the prominence of sex so profound that every positive attribute of the person goes amiss in mind space when infidelity creeps in...? We often hear of relations going kaput because of the 3rd person involved. The person who strays might be a wonderful parent, a lovely partner, a homemaker in the true sense of the word, someone who sees no difference between in-laws and blood relations… still, if s/he strays, the relation wouldn't stay. How O human, could you turn blind and apathetic to the righteousness… besides sex? Why put sex in a pedestal and care aught about every goodness that a person is blissfully blessed with. Why care a tuppence if the bed that you make love in, harbors the scents of an other. In all possibility, this ain't the only cot that you have caught and fought in. Why care naught about love that binds, but about the lust that grinds.

Mom believes man is a whore. A man would stray, look at his case anyway. A woman would stay-put, no matter how much tempt you would. The hole makes the whole world go around. But id like to note, that exceptions to the rule exist. And I applaud those wonderful exceptions. Cliché or Trite or Right. Who cares?… it's subjective. Nahi Kya? I claim and stand by my stance, if my partner is slutty and strumpet. So be it. It makes no difference to me. . He needs to be wise, have a great heart, a smiling face, an intriguing creative mind, and an absolute prankster with masters in naughty pretentious crimes. Anyways, I am no saint, (and not all saints dont suffer erectile dysfunction, anyways) and would not expect someone to be what I am not. Too much of vagina, causes angina. And too much Penis, won't make you venus. I am not advocating infidelity; I am not saying multiple partners is a norm and nature, so accept it in culture. What im saying though is, don't be sorry for sex. Its the reason for your survival. And cootchie-cooing-cuddling-doing "with mutual adulation and wholesome consent" is beautiful.

well, some care a fuck, and some, show care with a fuck. but whats important is that they care.

So don't be sorry. With Consent, Never Sorry for Sex.

Tuesday, November 04, 2008

A Fag End by Fag Friend (excerpt)

The word that’s on everyone’s lips is “fag”. The word on the lips is fine, but fag on the lips is unkind, says our beloved minister. It takes a man with real guts and gumption to stand against the puff lobby and fight for the rights of non smokers. In all organizations, I should admit that there has been a huge clout of smokers smoking off with zilch regard for the nonsmokers. I have resisted the temptation to scream my lungs off at smokers and dopers, many of them my very close associates, and being close I understood they would never understand. “How does it matter to you”, they’d ask. Well, it does, if you drink, you die. If you smoke I die with you… and I want to live. Smokers don’t care about the ones who inhale the smoke irrespective of whether they like it or not, and then when they get diseases like cancer and chronic bronchitis, smokers hush it and come-what-may would not believe that this is because of their vice. Some feel it’s’ wise to vice. Rebels without thought are worse than rebels without cause.

...Click Here to read the complete article

 didnt want to cross post, hence just an excerpt, I am a member of family/contributor for the world renowned Mam Movies group.

Friday, October 31, 2008

Documentary On Gays – A Media College Project

i made it a point that i speak to college students, about me being gay. i'm sure some thought of it as being over-the-top flamboyant, but it doesn't bother me. i stand by my beliefs. how can we expect the society and people to change and count us as a part of the society, when we all sit hiding behind veils?

secondly, i feel relieved that i don't have to make any make-believe statements; i don't have to fake instant "see-a-woman-and-feel-orgasmic" moments; i could find a lot of love with the all the women around and of course have the privilege of crushing big egos of straight-men and galling their ire with by being the man-midst-maidens.

i don't believe that gays are a sexual minority. count the many closeted, married-yet-looking… and some who live confused all through about the path that they need to follow!

oh! i'm diverting. let me get back to the topic of the student project.

yogesh, with a flock of 3 other young vivid minds, vernal & thriving media students from a veteran yet modern institution touched upon the issue of homosexuality as in the state today. i find this an honest attempt, quite a contrary to the clichés that the movies of today depict. this is a 9 something minute documentary that includes me, parmesh (author of gay bombay), vivek patil (artist, and mis officer from humsafar trust) and volunteers from humsafar trust. though much of this was edited to fit in his time-limit. (even i didn't get much screen space, he edited me off, lol). i believe though, if the intent is good, the content follows. please take a peep.



Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Me, The Author. God, The Trickster!

“what you abhor, you eventually adore” that’s the irony of life. at least that’s how it is for me. as i rejoice over the fact that i can still count the strands of grey hair on my head, i see my life taking a happy turn. in retrospect, i have tasted the waters that i once said “come what may, i wouldn’t”

i believed and believe that god is a trickster. so i made sure that all my pleas were in pronouncement and in complete seriousness with no prospect for any dubiousness. but still, she is god. she found her way often to trick me to not taste merely but to dip and plunge into the deep.
i remember the days my aunt used to sit with a stick in her hand “calyx”, “corolla”, “sepal”, “petal” and i engaged in pitter-patter “i love plants, but how could anyone possibly study botany”. her tyrannical ways to woo me made me vow against it. and today, i flaunt my bachelors’ degree in botany. similarly, i had said once, “oh! my god how can someone possibly stay in government quarters” and i ended up staying in one for 13 years without an iota of nitpick. so is the case with my new abode in the farther end of new bombay, and this is the same me who bellowed that id not set foot on a home outside my beloved bombay no matter how low the circumstances. agreed this was as good as being in bombay. but it’s still a make believe; aintit?
i might sound like a little boy with a ninety year old perspicacity, but nature bestows opportunities to soothe or seethe your life. it’s up to us to either burp in softness, vivacity and happiness by choosing the former, or pant in recklessness by choosing the latter. i look back at the wallop of happiness and the smirk of pain that gave happiness a new high.

fathoming back to the memories that changed me, i arrive at the days when i detested dogs, i was very compassionate towards them, and believed that quite understand their emotions. i used to sit with my white underwear and baniyaan in my balcony looking at momma dog visiting our building, leaving her babies in the custody of our building watchman and then setting off to dig the nearby garbage bin. (and before you start thinking of me as a flasher; be informed that i was a kid thenJ) one day, the baby dogs were there alone, momma was missing. i ran down to scout around for momma dog, with my mom to tag along. and saw her lay in a heap of garbage with froth dipping off her mouth… i looked at my mom and asked her with utter innocence “why is momma doggy sleeping over the dust bin, why didn’t she wash her mouth after brushing”. mom wanted to break the news to me that momma doggy is no more. and knowing mom, she didn’t mince words, said she “she has died, and all will die. one day”. mom expected me to feel bad, but i instead smiled cheekily at the fact that id be seeing momma doggy when i die. i looked at the pups and felt sorry. my happiness turned pale. what will happen to the little ones i wondered? then a little pup came close to me. i fretted, in fear, took a pebble and pelt it on the pup. i never have aimed so well ever. it hit the pup on the forehead of his. and the pup squealed in pain. so strident was the squeal that i can hear its echo still screeching the daylights off me. i stood there scared, that the pup would bite, still ignorant of the fact that the pup has just been orphaned. i justify my grisly act saying “but… but… but i was scared”
even today i fret i condole thinking of the orphaned pup… the thought of the nest with 3 sparrow chicks that i took to the ground so that i could see it fly, but ended up as a meal for a hungry cat… the thought of the many lizards that i loved to torment just because i wanted to see it drop its tail… the thought of the parrots i loved to cage… the thought of the sick and mauled cat that i rescued just after i turned 23, just to crush it to death by putting my leg over him when i was sleeping. years later, now, i am working for the cause of animals, tooth and nail.

“my parents should have stopped me then. my mother is the most empathetic person, but she didn’t put her foot down, she might be my mother, my loved mother, but she has wronged here” i protest in retrospect, quite happily washing off the guilt from me on to my moms shoulders.

why am i suddenly thinking of animals? i mean, i think of animals often, but why so profoundly? well because, i am reading this book. marley and me by john gregon and reading is not my habit, the only books that i have read (in bits and pieces, not completelty)are shobhaa de ka naya book superstar india, and parmesh shahani’s gay bombay.the only book that i have read cover to cover is maneka gandhi’s heads and tails… and that’s because i was in that activism spree. this book was gifted to me by friend rusi. thanks rusi…

now, post reading my first ever book, promising admiration from a celebrated author my blogdost de and above all the pillar of a support of my sexy girlfriend (of course you are my girlfriend re… rajesh watch out) in minneapolis rekha, i have started writing a book. which i will complete in a years time. it took me a lot of time to understand that i am doing something that i once detested.

i often wondered how people found the time to flip through pages and still remember the trail of the story. i was so damn intelligent, that i often lost track of the story that the book followed. but here i am, confident and flagrantly state that my book will be a bestseller. that’s why i call god a trickster. a real chaalu cheez.

im going for it. and i will win it.
…i mean a booker. why do you feel I cant. I can. And will.

Come on… what are you reading still…jaldi karo… wish me luck, tell me that I will see this happen for real.

(however clichéd this may sound) I need your blessings, wishes and affirmations


Monday, October 06, 2008

Hail NDTV!

recently the suicide of a 17 year old boy was in news. he mentioned in his suicide note that this was due to psychological abuse meted out by his friends in college who teased him for being gay. this one came out, i know of many who are silent sufferers and many go unnoticed as when they decide to end their life they fail to muster the courage to mention that that’s because of sexuality discrimination in their suicide note. i wouldn’t take names, but post my abuse, suicide attempts and being a survivor, i made it a point to go to colleges and schools and speak to them about how i had been through it and how i am now through it. i cried everytime i spoke about my episode. but put up a brave face in front of the kids, as i knew that i needed to be noticed as a survivor and not a victim. i believe in the ripple effect. (ripple effect: courtesy: madhusudan ) not to my surprise, most of them who came out and spoke tto me privately were boys. we are most ignorant about the rights of a male child. protecting the male child is equivalent to tiding against the waves, men have to protect women… we are told from childhood. even mythology is interpreted as per our whims and fancies. but what about the average young boy who peddles through the muddles of trivia that life poses? what about the “strong young boy” is simply the reverse of what he is “weak, old man”. growing faster than what the world could imagine.

in a parallel plane, minister, amburami ramadoss(i love this guy. i will dedicate a separate post for him later) has been fighting tooth-and-nail for the decriminalization of homosexuality. (there exists a draconian law, section 377, which punishes anal, oral and sex “against the order of nature”.)
(rearing to go??? no no!
even man-woman anal/oral sex is punishable with life imprisonment. so… no back door entries. rear end is the dead end)
and by the way as vikram joshi puts it in his blog indian penal (huh!) code. lol.

ndtv had recently interviewed me on the issue of sexuality discrimination in educational institutions and also the broader issue of rights of sexuality. i have spoken about the fact that sex is not only meant for procreation, it’s natural if it’s for recreation also. i have asked the government to rather impose heavy criminal charges against any man who marries a woman despite being gay and thus endangering her basic right of sexual liberty.

i’m out on media, now, with consent. and am glad that my debutant public acceptance of me being gay is on ndtv. vikram doctor had asked in the recent parents meet if id like to volunteer to speak about the episode. i readily agreed. and shai venkataraman, the editor/director is super sensitive about the issue. so no melodrama. no emphasis on extra emotions et al. i am sure this program will look wonderful.
i thought it will be right at this juncture to share my previous posts with you. which speak about my life
does being on tv it warm the cockles of my heart?
yes, definitely it does. who wouldn’t like a transition from being a victim who is looking for hope to a survivor who is the hope.

do i like being on tv?

of course i do. i love being known.

did i do it for publicity?
if you think that i could use something as sensitive as sex abuse to garner publicity. you either don’t know me or are a freaking asshole. it makes me happy if people recognize me. because then, i could reach out to many more. it will help the cause. i am not doing it for publicity. but id be lying if id say that i donot like it if i get publicity. had this exercise had no publicity, then too id have done it.
any ways, can you answer a simple question about how many times you masturbate on tv. many will freak out. and here i was reliving something that’s gory, dreadful and long past.

for more watch my tough and blunt interview with shai venkataraman on ndtv 24x7 on 05 october 2008. i received many phone calls about people expecting to hear and see more of me, and this was one-two minute clip. but this was not about my activism portfolio, it was for a cause, and shai has represented the cause very well. she has not glorified the sadness but has been factual.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Lisa! Better With Time...

the world is quite quiet. and there is din in my heart. i am relentless. i am restless. i wish to tear. and i shed a few. profound pules that no one but i can hear. i make sure that no one is looking, as i speak placidly to my inner voice. i scream. i shriek. i pray. she is siting cozily on the sofa. she notices my silence. she hears my voice when i mumble, a mutter, not so loud that any ear could hear. she looks at me and conveys with her doe-eyes “silence is the loudest cry”. as i vent my fears in type and script, she tries to draw my attention to her with a loud lisp. i type, with blasé attitude in solitude without interlude. she comes closer, and as i yawn stretching my legs and spreading it wide. she licks my feet. touches my leg with her hand. and jumps over me. demands and commands me to take a walk with her on a night that has a falcate moon shining on a lone sky. i scream at her. “leave me alone, cant you wait for a while. cant you see im busy” her eyes droop. she stoops.  she gets up from my lap. and moves on to take a catnap on her bed. i look at her from the corner of my cornea. as i look at her self-effacingly, i watch her pupils dilate and speak a dialect that no one but she understands. she notices me looking, alarmed,  she looks elsewhere in remonstration. “don’t show me your fucking attitude”, i grin. she acts as a soubriquet of gandhi sporting a “hear no evil” outlook. it doesn’t matter to her at all.  i love her. she knows that. and she takes advantage of that. i am helpless. why should i budge always? why should i dance to her tune? why should she have her way every time? my mom tells me that today, girls outfox boys. and i am so with mom at this.  i get up and walk with her. she whistles, i bow. she pilots, i fly. wherever she takes me, she can, i oblige with no dissent at all. 

she is a darling. and she is mine. yes she is over smart at times. and a little too lazy. but that wont stop my loving her. one look at her. and all my pain goes absconding.

here is she,   

this is Lisa Iyer, tell me isn’t she a darling. isn’t she the sexiest any one has seen? 

just as pretty as  Kiara Dẻ and Nellie Eileen… o! i have their pics too. and since this post is about Lisa, let me put up her friends pics too…

        ... Ms. Neelie Eileen
                                                    ... Ms. Kiara Dẻ

( women, I said NO… no petty catfight about who is the prettiest. Ok?) 

after licking me off my pain, she lingers on it… i touched her breast a week back. i found a lump. yesterday, i took her to her doctor. the often carefree lisa, was vexed. like she knew what was in the offing. the doctor pressed her breasts and told me that she is braving breast cancer. i had seen this happen in my most shuddery dream. and i knew this was impending. but, how i wish my dream didn’t come true. the surgeon told me that she needs to be operated upon and the lump needs to be removed. i could feel the lump on my chest.  i didn’t speak a word. and she licked me then. smiling, she was abreast, with a pile on her breast. ohh my dog. i told her as tears trickled down my cheeks. bitch was a word that typified a sewer swear; now it meant sheer seerness.  the doctor told me smilingly she will outlive you. she will be there eternally. 

we are shifting base next week to kharghar in new bombay. and now she is unwell. i am worried. i wanted to take her along in the new place and run around in the lush green valleys there. but now she will have to be operated, no sooner we reach there. how will she cope? i was hanging in the desultory of hopelessness. again, fear swathed me. the doctor assured me that lisa would be fine. but my mind wandered mindlessly. then suddenly, a thought occurred, i saw light. i thought of the many angels in the sky who say amen  and thatha-asthu. i saw hope in times of grope. the spark of a positive thought shone bright in windy wilderness. i could see clearly. my lisa. my happy lisa. my happy and healthy lisa.  

i wish to ask my blogdosts for a little favour.

if you could utter “Lisa will be fine. she will get well soon” twice or more times. with the ripple effect of the positive thought. lisa will be alright. kiddish it may sound. but it helps. and speaking myth-o-logically, if angels say thatha-astu/amen, then inshallah! she, the daughter of a gay man will be blessed with the pink of health. :-)

will you do this for me and my kid? 

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Sada Green Chak De!

click on the image to make it badaa. there is message in the RightDown corner. 

This blogpost is dedicated to my sweet and suave foodie BlogDost Shobhaa De. 

Friday, September 12, 2008

"Mumbai Meri (mein no) Jaan" & "!!"

here is a review that i had written for the iview section of passion for cinema. i was resisting the temptation to post the same here. in pfc, as a rule, i need to wait for 7 days before posting the same elsewhere. 
Bombay Meri Jaan 
(I prefer bombay to mumbai... raj, bal, uddhav! come, arrest me)
mumbai meri jaan received positive reviews from bollywood’s media critics. lot of hype and great reviews. but i am not content. probably because there was too much content. i beg to differ from all the other reviewers, mumbai meri jaan was quite an “ordinary” film. i expected a fantastic movie, which would be chilling and packed with emotions. there were none. there were some shots which were nice. but i found the film director nishikant lost between the many characters he wanted to depict. 

the director wants to tell so many stories. 
a madrasi chaiwala: irfan khan who makes hoax calls and spreads bomb scare in malls, as he was insulted and thrown out by a shop owner, in the “new” bombay mall (“mumbai” meri jaan???) “center one”. 
a tv news reporter: soha ali khan is a reporter of the channel “tv news” (which uses brand colours of times now. subtle branding/sabotaging??). she does her “duty” by sensationalizing everything, until she loses her fiancé to the bomb blasts. and the same channel tries to use her to create sensationalizing news. 
a today’s patriot: r madhavan, who gives up foreign plans in his love for mother india and faces the psychological aftermath after escaping the blast, unaffected. 
a head constable: paresh rawal, who metamorphoses from an immoral cop to someone with a strong moral conscience. 
a rebel: kay kay menon, who is a hindu sadak-chap guy turns anti-moslem post the blasts, by the end of the movie he turns empathetic towards moslems. 

(does this plot sound new? at least, to me it doesn’t)

i expected reality. i got to see a “film”, where all characters (except soha) were acting. the acting was filmy. the music was filmy. the background score was filmy. screenplay and dialogues were very very filmy. the camera angles… well, where there were tight shots needed, they made do with wide angle shots, where there were wide angle shots needed there were close ups. irfan khan and kay kay have acted really well, and irfan is someone who looked at ease with the character that he was playing, he could well be the saving grace of the film. but, the director put some jhintaak bollywoodish music as a background score in one of the scenes and sabotaged the efforts of these bundles of talents. 

the direction was bad. the director has spoilt the screenplay with his insensitive treatment. the result: the movie is neither a hard-hitting reality movie, nor it is, an out-and-out bollywood movie. this movie hangs somewhere in between. and it doesn’t touch you. 

i wonder how all critics have given it a good rating. well, that’s what we call herd-mentality i guess. or whats a better word. ripple effect.
rock on!! is worth the two exclamation marks. as i moved out of the theatre, i carried the experience; it continued to linger in my mind. excellent screenplay, fantastic performances, a complex orchestra of emotions, and every emotion etched out very clearly. the result: rock on!! is a melodious journey. 

bang on! the audience connects with the film right from the titling stage. it’s evident that there has been a lot of thought applied on projection of the brand “rock on!!”. the story went back and forth in time, without losing its connection with the audience.

rock on!! does what jhankar beats couldn’t? it merges passion with compassion. frankly, i never appreciated rock before. i expected a loud show. thought of it as an alias for insanity. but here, it didn’t matter to me if what was played was rock or jazz or whatever. simply, loved the experience. 

i have to mention that this about farhan, the actor. he was at ease with his character. there wasn’t one moment in the movie where i felt that he was acting. he was natural. the film was believable. abhishek kapoor has done a good job. shabana was good. really good. prachi has acted well (but there was nothing for her to do anyways in the movie). i was disappointed by arjun, i feel he didn’t look that comfortable with the guitar. the ones who stole my heart were purab and luke. luke was the true true rock star. if you compare him to farhan, luke was far far far better than farhan. this doesn’t imply that farhan was bad. it implies though, that luke was better. purab is another star one needs to watch out. he is the best sidekick any film could be ornamented with. who is the hero of the film? it is undeniably luke. 

besides, this movie does justice to all the characters, all definite, precise and sharp and none of the characters looked over-the-top or forced.. and thanks to the fantastic cinematic genes and upbringing of farhan, son of honey and javed and step son of shabana, the producer farhan, didn’t take extra mileage. he has not been selfish and made this movie his acting portfolio, he has been non-dominating and has told a story, very well.

but, but, but… still, this movie is
not a classic. it will be forgotten in a few years. nevertheless, it is a nice film. commercially, it is doing well. it is an urban movie, like what dil chahta hai was. 

nice film. take some time off from the hustle-bustle of life, watch this movie. treat yourself.

~ Aham

Saturday, September 06, 2008

Ohh My God!

we live a country where gods have no voice. 
buy a non-eco friendly ganpati. god will bless you for illtreating him. go ahead?

*thanks rohit for sending me this email. 

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