A post that appeared on www.passionforcinema.com , thanks to Keyrun Rao (Magik)
Harish Iyer, who was the trigger point, for Abhimanyu, sends in his post on the movie Abhimanyu and invites investors to invest in the film.
Abhimanyu PosterThere came a child with night in his eyes and dew in his voice… The sly twinkle was hard to miss. As I looked at him, he appeared unnerved. So unnerved, that I wondered why. When my eyes met his, he face shrunk in shame. It was then that I made a conniving rush to the corner and checked my wallet for I presumed I had been robbed by him. I named the look in his eyes “guilt”. I wondered if this child was up to something. My mind was clouded with the smog of suspicion. The feeling was something uncomfortable. That something left an indelible mark in my mind. Years passed, I never met the child again.
Some 20 odd years later, I got a forward email about this boy who as a child had braved sex abuse and that this story served as a trigger for the making of a film on the cause. In curiosity I googled the boy and found his facebook profile. I went through his pics and was aghast to see, that this was the same boy who had intrigued me and lived with me for so many years in thought.
The child is me. And the “I“is the world. The “I“ here is an account of the many people that I have encountered in life, who were presumptuous but never ever verified with me about the villainy of my stillness… only to meet me decades later to brazenly declare that they missed or misconstrued the twinkle of my eyes then. Many offered worthless sympathies, and many showered advices. None of any constructive help. I dealt with my inner voice positively and singly, and dealt with complexes of being abused for 11 long years by a man. My sexuality was shattered. I ambled on a path unknown, but did in the end reach my true finding. My true finding of sexuality. I realized I am gay, and today am happy and gay. And that contrary to what the world may again presume, it had nothing to do with my history of abuse.
Since I understand the language of silence, I chose to speak up sometimes too often, sometimes too very shamelessly for the cause. And realized that there were many, many who lived in the closet. Call it the “sailing in the same boat” syndrome. There were many who let off their well-kept secrets and thereby set free the lump in their heart.
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