didn’t know, i, to smile, to cry,
when boys were busy lifting skirts,
and girls played games with their fingers,
neither with boys nor with girls,
all that i liked was to listen to was my inner voice…
the echoes moved in my heart that bled, seeking in life, a choice.
just a choice of a life. not another life, but a life, within my life.
in school i was just a bully, a little tall panzy bully,
not effeminate, but scared,
scared so much, that all my expressions were incomplete.
there was this boy by the name of santosh who used to tease me. and every time he would tease me i used to go deep into my shell. real deep. you know.
i played no sport. i never liked those boyish things like pinching each others asses, discussing sizes and all that.
i was sentimentally related more to the girls and to some boys who used to sit all alone. alone and aloof.
i dont even remember most of them. but this one i cant forget. i remember clearly there was this boy. he was my senior. he used to look into my eyes with great empathy. i didn’t know what those eyes said. i dont know what they meant. i cant even decipher what i felt.
was this love. was this a crush. i donno.
it’s all so difficult to describe, and even difficult to comprehend. i never spoke to him.
but,i saw a ray of hope in those eyes. wanted to cling on to him. but. i never saw him again.
those eyes left an imprint in my fragile mind. an everlasting imprint.
but. he was a phase. just a phase. a phase that phased out.
i was deserted. as always.
little things in life bestowed me with a lot of joy.
in school, we had a 30 minute period devoted to dance. boys used to have sports or craft then, but i stayed back and looked at the girls dancing bharatnatyam. unintentionally, unknowingly, i use to ape the girls and make mudras with my long artistic fingers.
the teacher noticed. she pulled me out. she asked me to dance with the girls.
i danced. i danced. i really danced.
this was a new beginning for me. i was very close to just one male friend in school. didn’t feel sexual or anything. not even remotely. just that, when you don’t have any male friend and you trust only one, you would absolutely love and adore him. i just didnt adore. i hero-worshipped him. i put him on a pedestal. i trusted him completely. he knew it all. i told it to him one day when in ninth standard. he said 'it happens'. i thought 'every one goes though similar abuse. else how would they know about sex'.
he was the only person who knew about my abuse.
but when i moved to college, i noticed, that one (not so fine) day that all my acquaintances (had no friends) knew about my abuse. how could they have?
(i don’t want to engage in any banter against him hence wouldn’t take names)
my heart wasn’t agreeing to believe that my friend was the reason, until he confessed that he did tell the world and had a kind of expression on his face which said ‘what’s the big deal haan’.
and soon there were college toilets adorned with graffiti that read: ‘for gay sex contact harish’ and things like that.
you know, people like to speak. especially, creative juices flow endlessly when the topic is sex or anything remotely related.
(they didnt know that children could be abused. or they did know but didnt accept, i fret when i realise that, now they must have become fathers, hope the ignorance was shortlived)
the earth for me was rotating in the opposite direction. but i was not gay then. i was not straight either. i was asexual.
i was teased again. again i was bullied. i tried eating pills to die.
but death doesnt come that easily for those who arnt happy enough that they crave to experience death.
i got up in the morning and thought that im dead and in heaven. but i was alive.
then again i tried. again i was alive.
and then again for the third time and i was alive again.
i don’t know how i survived. i don’t know why i didn’t try again. may be i just didn’t muster the courage. may be i was a coward.
i was very scared of dogs then, and my uncle (not the abuser) got home a german shepherd. i was so scared that the dog was behind me, my lungi was down and i was up the tree. but this boy (my four legged jimmy) was a real sweetheart. he used to lick my tears when i cried. i loved him. i took up animal rights. started speaking up for them. the boy who didn’t ever utter 'bastard'. started hurling flowery hindi abuses on fatherchods who ill treated animals.
i saw a new ray of hope in animal welfare.
i loved animals, but they loved me more than what i did, and that too, immensely and unconditionally.
i fought with parrot walas, people who ill treated their pet dogs and cats, vagaira vagaira. soon, i saw that people were scared of me. but more than that what gave me happiness was that i was being helpful to someone.
infact i need to share this with you.
you know, more than me jimmy was an animal lover. one rainy night he brought home two kittens that were drowning. one after the other.
he lifted them just the way a mother cat would lift her offspring.
i pasted him up thinking that he was eating them. only to realise that he was mothering them. he is and will be my inspiration. he could save a member of another species and mother them! he was beyond biology, people say he is a 'dog'. i agree, but if read, in the reverse.
he gave me the courage to say no. and yeah, i did say no. my uncle pounced on me. i pushed him and screamed. screamed like mad.
and he fled. he hasn’t touched me after that. i started living. started discovering myself. was in the quest of my own identity and to find answers to the questions that raged a battle in my head.
where do i head from here?
what is my sexual orientation?
this is an excerpt from my autobiography. it feels nice to write one. i will write it. i will have one ready to publish soon. how soon is soon.
thats one thing i donno. lol.