Tuesday, September 15, 2009

I WAS bi, I AM Gay

“I had been through the straight path, it didn’t suit me. So here I am, GAY. Cock sure now! 100% gay.” this conversation with one’s inner self is what many of us engage in. I have spoken to many people who have walked the “straight” path to discover “finally” that they don’t belong to that space. Though scientists have said time and again, that our genes determine our sexual orientation, there always a thought lingering in our minds about “circumstantially imbibed homosexuality.”

Though, not all Indian parents discuss sex and sexual preferences at the dinner table, we are given to believe, consciously and subconsciously, that we will grow up to have a happy married life… husband-wife-kids et al. We accept this without question, without doubt. And this subconsciously plays up all through our lives. The worldview becomes our view. And that view aligns itself so very befittingly in our being that it sometimes takes eons to excavate our true self from this complex collage of infused attitudes.
I have a friend; his name is “A” – a man who was “successfully” married to a woman. (How I gauge success? Well, he has 2 children. And also, the kids look like him. That’s stands testimony, doesn’t it?) “A” had a colorful life. He enjoyed the best of both worlds. He was a regular at Gay parties and didn’t ever reach late for the very pampering Karva Chowth. He ambled on parallel lanes… and managed it efficiently to ensure that both don’t meet even in the farthest sight. I heard from our common gay pals that he is extremely virile when on the act with them. He also seemed to have settled well with his wife. All was hunky dory with his life until the day he went in a quest of his true self. It looked like a classic case of familiarity breeding contempt. He suddenly didn’t like the company of his wife. He was impulsive and repulsive with his kids. “Not that I was in love with a guy” he said “but am just bored of playing to the gallery”. Eventually, he ended up with a divorce for reason that was not homosexuality but bigamy. He got a friend of his to play the role of the “other woman” and staged his way out of the marriage. “Why did you marry at the first place”, I asked him. He replied “I was bisexual”. I was amazed at his matter-of-factly reply. How simple it is to swing both ways and finally decide which way is yours! “What about the lives of others who are affected by this choice?” I wondered.
I mulled over this puzzling issue for quite some time. I looked for answers outside, whereas actually, the solutions lied within. I did a thorough introspection of my feelings. (Me- an out and about gay man) I was drawn to the age when my older cousin had a fetish for bosoms. He used to narrate the sexpisodes with heavily breasted women with utmost passion. Much so, I used to imagine of the woman. This was often coupled with some anatomical responses in my body which result in me adjusting myself to disallow full preview. “Was I straight then?” I wonder. When I turned from boy to man, it was hip to have a girlfriend. Chasing skirts was an everyday quotidian for my group of friends. I followed the troop. Neither did I enjoy what they did, nor did I enjoy aping them. Passing comments and discussing orgasms about and with the opposite sex wasn’t something that I was good at. But still I ended up fooling my colleagues to believe that I am like them- Straight.
It took some time for me to allow my innate sexuality to emerge undisguised. I started interacting with my kind- gay men. That facilitated a greater understanding of the simple issue of sexual orientation that we strive to make complex with stiff mindsets.
I pass not a verdict, but express my understanding… I feel homosexual habits and homosexuality are two different things. There is thick distinction between the two. Let’s take an imaginary example, we often hear of handsome groups of gay hostellers. The question that dwells in our minds are “did they become gay after close proximity with other boys?…”. (What a great coincidence it would be if they were all gay by birth and met one day at the hostel!) I presume that hostellers, young and libidinous, would feel the void for a woman to satiate their fantasies. Engaging in homosexual acts with peer and near might just be a means to quench this thirst. The person might not be a homosexual, but might be engaging in homosexual acts. This could be well termed as “Homosexual Habit” whereas not the persons innate orientation.
Speaking about sexual orientation, let me take my own example, my first sexual fantasy was not about a person from the opposite sex. As adolescence set in, my hormones naturally reacted to the sight of handsome hunks. I did appreciate the beauty of the opposite sex, but (without mincing words…) bulges appealed to me and not bosoms.
I have heard the statement myriad times by people who support gay rights “everyone has the right to choose to be gay”. The reality is that “We didn’t choose to be gay. We were born this way.”
It takes a lot of courage to take your stand. But nothing’s as fulfilling as being what you are.
There are no bi lanes to gayness. Let us not let society bi the gay.
reposted from Pink-Pages

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Mumbai Twestival – A SuperFuntastic Experience

Does a cause fund raiser need to be necessarily drab and boring with hyperventilating activists and very difficult unpalatable words…??? That’s how the cliché is na. But we are alag and unique.

We do it with a lot of spunk and funk. We danced, wrangled and twined, and we do not cry and whine about what we couldn’t, but we jumped and dived into what we could.

3 cheers to the organizers of the Mumbai Twestival, @Netra @Mokshjuneja @farrhad and @monikkam for organizing this unique event, and thinking of supporting a social cause, whilst having fun. And Hadippa! What fun we had. I told Moksh that id be meeting him before 6:30, and reached around 7:30. In Bombay you always have an excuse – Traffic. And that’s so a passé to say – Traffic mein fas gaya tha.

The evening started with Netra screaming and screeching (very school head-ministerni like ) on the Mic, And if you thought she was angry, frustrated or something. You are absolutely wrong. She was just thanking the sponsors.


The Sponsors Were Bombay Store, Only Gizmos, Cadbury Bournville, Tata DoCoMo, Shoppers Stop, and also free themes for blogs by Sandeep Bali and musical night invitation by Mihir – (Yay! Yay!) The sweetheart that Netra is , she handed over the mic to each of the sponsors, and thankfully, the sponsors dint talk about the offers of their product or engage in loud brand promotion, but rather spoke about the larger cause that the Twestival was supporting the Nonprofit organization “Help A Child”.

Help a child by the beautiful @andreaclear is an organization that supports deserving students who drop out because of lack of requisite funds with tuition fee and allied education costs.


Netra all of a sudden. Called me and shoved the mic onto my gullet. (LOL) I thought of an innovative way of getting people introduced. I chose to call it Speed Dating. I asked people
to come over and introduce themselves and asked the audience if they were a hit or a miss. After some 7-8 people the interest level dwindled and my concept fell flat on its face (sad puppy face) We needed something peppier, something that was more upbeat and appealed to all and sundry.

…Then came our man Moksh, to give us some moksh from what was beginning to be seen as ekdam pheeka evening. He started the Housie. This had 5 prizes, each of the lines, and 2 full housie… The event pepped up the audience. But still they were largely in their own closed groups. (huh!!!)

When we thought ”gayii bhains paani mein”, Outta blue cometh Our pretty lady - @SrushtiRao made a celebrittyish late entry. She came

, and dish dang toingggg she created quite a furor … she picked up the mic and instigated people to lie. I screamed on the microphone, “@GulPanag “is here. And that did catch the attention of some lover log of Gul. Still some smart pants, could make out that I was spinning a yarn. (huh!)Srushti got frustrated, and simply started gyrating her hips to the music… and so did I. And then one joined, and then one, and then one… and suddenly the whole audience was spinning and shaking an arm, a bum, a hand, or at least an eyelid. At this event, srushti invented a lot of new species of dance forms like – Scooter Dance, Dhobhi Dance etc, We also did the best of Mumbaiyya street dance, She danced we all a followed and we stopped only when the restaurant manager asked us to, else we were prepared to dance away the night.

Post that we had singing sessions, and then we finally vacated the place.

Our masti continued on the streets, on our way to dinner, and back home. tHe feeling was truly resonating.... vibrations of the twestival were felt ....persistently hammering us even now, 30 hours later.

The Queen of the day was definitely Srushti and the king, Moksh!

In Joy,

P.S. Mind naat my Englisss man! Im still dancing while I am typing.

P.P.S. I have stolen all photos from the Facebook Accounts of Moksh Juneja, Mayank Gupta and Annkur.

Schhh! Don’t tell anybody.

Here are the links: Moksh’s Album , Mayank’s Album and Annkurs Album

Friday, September 04, 2009

Cutie Ya!

Sanity is an endangered species, and I am realizing that more loudly and lewdly these days. Every day I meet new good people, who take their goodness to doom if not bloom. I met Mr. X online and shared with him a difference of opinion, and was met with a lot of yet un- experienced indifference. It was about the issue of abuses in Hindi that always cornered the woman. I don't swear usually… and even if I do so it's always in a closed group, and just for fun. He overheard me swear in one such moment and started hyperventilating. Poor thing. I felt very sorry for his myopic attitude. I felt so sorry for him that I am dedicating a complete blogpost for the word – cutie ya.


Sometimes we take things a little too literally. It was the poor C word that I used. Poor because, previously the word was always awarded an exclusive audience in Hindi films and an A certificate. Now it doesn't, the C word is given a U certificate and is watched heard and used by all and sundry. Hissing Kids from Malabar hill, to the kissing boyfriends of five gardens to the lively lanes of Dharavi – all use this word with great intonation, affection and causes no infliction but causes a lovely infection… the word sinks in your mouth, and people wag their tongue to say it with the perfect vowels… it's a part of the system, not excreted ever in the bowels. It's a replacement "how are u doing buddy" eg: "saala cutie ya kaisa hai".

This is a word that has no meaning most times, but means the world to so many. I find it harmless. For some it is a takia kalam. They love the word so much. I find it sounds sweet, and don't make a fuss of it. But there is a flip side to every goodness. Some people use the word in anger. Some spit and sweat it out when they use the word. Gussa Thook Do. Now that's not something that I like. Use the C word with dignity. Not as an abuse, in gussa.

I dislike people who use the C word that way in anger. For in anger, I believe the true inner self is shown in all its sheen to the world. In that state of consciousness, I resolutely feel… "referring to a woman's anatomy in any way literally is either a sign of either erectile dysfunction or horny desperation." And its always a woman. Its always Maa Ki… or Behen --- etc, or the anuvaad in chaste English


When I say Cutie Ya for that matter, it sounds like upaasna and not vaasna. And I use the word quite prudently. And very privately... I don't think of the V or the G spot when I use the word. I just use it! On the contrary I find the F word quite interesting; I like the word because it is not sexist. Anyone can do a fuck up! Aadmi/aurat no bar. You see.
For all those of those infertile men who use the C word, I have devised some words to add to their vocabulary. After all, we cant let out the man alone. There has to be an Indian Penal (lol) Code na. Like we have a C code. I have realized that we cannot stop people from using those words. They need our sympathy and should be treated as patients for their disorder that's a part of their psyche.

And ghalib has said "if you cant cure them, join them" (was ghalib na?)
So if you are a woman or respect women, and you spot that there are many people interested in verbalizing your tops and bottoms… or pay respects to your mother's and sister's. Just cure them with similar words. But change the gender.

Say Bratha Fcuker or Father Ch@d


Funny as it may sound. Men don't have the guts or the balls. They cant bear slurs if reversed.
Cure the dimwitted Y chromosome by giving them a taste of their own excreta.

P.S. Please lets observe a two minute silence for the lost morality of men world over.

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