Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Innocence lost

Something fundamental and worrisome plagues our daily lives. It threatens the fabric of civilised living. I am not talking of homosexuality. I am talking of child abuse rather more specifically abuse of a male child. Ever since my boyhood i have been aware of the predators. Not because of my parents and their cautious upbringing but moreso due to the middle class upbringing. It was the unspoken responsibility of taking care of the most precious possession of an average joe – our dignity. Allowing myself to be humiliated or violated was out of the question. I was aware rather alert of reactions from early phases of my life. Unwanted attention to my distinct traits ( i do not judge myself or others on social parameters of gender confirmation) was always worrisome.

I remember the paanwala of my building and son of a close family friend referring to my fair thighs at age of 7 being like ones of a tarty starlet who had bared it all in a bollywood flick under waterfall. Also I remember that I did not realise the reason of my dislike for these conversations. Many many years later I was a minor being seduced by a younger lad and still my inner voices protested. I failed to register the exact reason. The consciousness that the act is not right remained without a word being exchanged about it in my surroundings. Today i chose to express myself about this taboo subject as I see two friends of mine – different as chalk and cheese dealing with their pasts, which were tainted and marked by incidences of betrayal, deceit and inhumane devilish attack on their free will by close family members. Yes, they were victims of child abuse. Today they are leading their lives as men who have moved ahead but alterations in their life due to these acts are visible.

Their struggle to break through, reach out, and love themselves without any guilt was inspiring as well as unnerving to me. One is my closest friend who seeks his childhood through pampering himself and friends. He happily eats, shops and gives his childlike loyalty decisively to a few of us. Let us call him S. In spite of going through storms of these continuous attacks on his very being, he chooses to laugh on his past and zealously guards his feelings by talking openly to seem like he is hiding nothing and acting as if he has disconnected himself to the hurt caused. He indulges at every step and compensates for love and attention, the care that he missed during the turbulent phase. The guilty people who are part of his family lead their miserable lives- hollow and shallow everyday looking at their mirror in his eyes. I am sure they can’t meet his gaze. His approach is silent protest – a passive aggressive celebration of their downfall and being proven right thereby turning tables by emerging stronger than the abusers. Imagine being happy when they derived strength from your fear. Imagine being successful when they tried their best to keep you from good bounded in web of their lust and negativities. Imagine breaking open the shell and breathing lungful after gasping for a ray of light or touch of a breeze. I can see it in his glint, in his every step, that he lives on personifying the nightmare of any abuser i.e. their victim being strong and independent. The silence of his dignity and perseverance is a deafening slap on their ugly faces. They don’t deserve any less.


The second person in question is my friend R. His life too was sullied by the dirty minds and acts of his relative. R has grown up to be an intellectual. His career is going fine and he has empowered himself by lending shoulder first to his best friend, then to a failed lover and finally to a community i.e. LGBT family of India. He has chosen to be part of the bigger picture. He loves animals and speaks up for them, respects women and writes a blog that advocates equal rights amongst many other subjects. He also talks for all those children who will grow up under the influence of boogeymen lurking close to them and silently thriving on their helplessness. R has surrounded himself with core issues of multiple people and wants to solve each of them. He has found his voice while speaking up for others. He talks again freely of his abuse and his choice to be gay. He lives as per his own rules and takes on every opportunity to express and intiate cause based movements online or offline. Hes seen with poor one day a week and sets up a helpline for terror struck citizens the other day, writes a blog supporting social change in night and works on commercial event properties ideation by the day. He seemingly has found his calling. He’s fast heading to a career in politics laced with fame and fortune. He helps wholeheartedly and has successfully transformed his poison into medicine i.e. derived strength from the weakest moments of his life. I see R losing inspite of his soaring popularity. His close friends are few unlike S. His need to talk about his contribution to each cause and his desire to be acknowledged is more than evident. I see him yet being a child who yearns for attention from a correct person. His persona of a happy go lucky intellectual and social activist is a clever garb to hide his desperation to beat the satanic shadows of his past. He has clinged to the pain and relives it every time he shares his life story.

They are two people with lost innocence. They stay in the same city but are worlds apart. They both support reading down of IPC section 377 and making a new separate law for child abuse. They also want others to know that male child is also at equal risk of abuse as much as females. That is where the similarities end. While one chooses to lose himself in problems of others and neglects his past while wanting to be respected for what he’s been through, the other one enjoys company of friends, dances, discusses and flirts his nights away. They both have scars which are impossible to get rid of but to talk of both these survivors in one breath is almost impossible. The beliefs that S shares are his own. His presence in our lives comes without the weight that the need to fit in or out do others brings on platter. This is because S discovered himself and continues on the route of self discovery while R has fallen for the charm of another devil called fame- this time willingly.

Their choices are obviously both respect worthy but while R is escaping, S has faced and moved on from a much worse nightmare. He walks with a bouncing step and is full of life even after midnight normally. He is unputdownable. R is faking it till he discovers himself and S chooses to explore. Two people tied by an invisible thread, representing two aspects- two sides of a coin. It doesnt matter who i consider a winner and who a loser, what matters is that they are walking and their will to keep at it. I salute them both for their courage, their warmth, their humility and their inspirational presence in my life.


I conclude looking at them that it is essential for one to fall inorder to be stronger but the difference lies in how you get up and how truthfully and earnestly u make attempts to move ahead. I remember someone else at this moment – someone exemplary who suffered attacks herself and I leave both my friends and all of you with her words.

“ I can be changed by what happens to me. but I refuse to be reduced by it. -- Maya Angelou”

Such strength is what I pray to be instilled in hearts of all child abuse victims. Such wisdom should congeal the determination of all women enduring marital rape. Such vision should fill the horizons of all those who are awaiting a miracle to redeem them from their sufferings. Amen

Saturday, May 16, 2009

In the name of life

I danced the night away. Clinkering glasses of wine and spirits added to the rhythm of the night. We bathed on dance floor in colours of celebrations painted over our moods- blue and battered from weekdays of struggle at work. Escaping from an earful by the boss, parents and loved ones, our refuge was perfect only until on my way back I saw a man with his son, dressed in pristine white unapologetically sleeping on a park bench.

Skies began crying. It poured in streams and not droplets as if Mother Nature finally had turned teary eyed without any sobs or sound. Maybe she was not in mood to be consoled

They ran for shelter while I rolled up windows of my cab. The little one clutched big hands and tried to shake sleep off his eyes. Dreams were not meant for him. It was in harsh waking truths that his life was to shape up. I don’t know why but i stopped the vehicle near them. The man was apprehensive till I showed my press badge and asked if everything is alright. He asked me to watch over his son till he fetches his stuff he left behind near the bench and I nodded silently asking him to cover his head with a newspaper I had in my bag. As he moved some metres away with fast sogging offering that I had given him, cabbie asked the boy what they were doing there at this hour. The boy looked up and turned towards the man and just to let us know that if he tells us as the man would be angry.

Considering it a kidnap or some such shady business, I probed further and prompted the boy to speak up if there is anything wrong. I told him sleeping in park is illegal and police officers would be happy to get them moving if I complained.
At my attempt, looking down he muttered unapologetically that there is no need. Their landlord had thrown them out and his father – the man that he was with had no money, so they were waiting for the temple doors to open in the morning. By the time, he finished a few more details about where they lived and the tea stall that they had nearby, the October rain stopped, and father returned. I offered them a lift if they wanted to go anywhere and he refused. After which I asked the cabbie to move from there.

Yes, I was smashed yet, not with the drinks but with my own view of life
There might be many 8 year olds in this world calling sky their home, a few supporting their parents in daily struggle without knowing the role that they play. That kid for me is answer to my prayers for guidance about my life. I could never pray specifically and always asked god to show me the answers as i move ahead in journey of life. Today was a landmark, a reason to celebrate as true reverence and faith had met me in person. They were contained in a small frame with a smaller mind, big eyes and bigger questions but yes the child and his self respect was bigger as he never asked for money which a child would normally and easily in this situation and stood being half drenched with rains instead of seeking convenient comfort from helpful strangers.

His determination shone in his eyes to move ahead and change the situation without being apologetic and to face the life like his father who did not expect this young life to seek help elsewhere. I remembered my maid who helps my landlady run her household in clockwork precision keeping my mind off the trivialities. Also about the watchman who guards my home 24x7 with his meagre pay, the rickshaw drivers who have left me at my correct destination when I did not have a clue and strangers who were hardworking poor people without begrudging their challenges in life.

On the other hand, I had my day job, the deadlines that I was ready to crib about, and my humble abode which lacked the best paintjob i desired. I realised at that moment the easy route of self pitying behaviour prevalent in the queer community of my city. There are challenges that lie ahead of us – social acceptance, section 377, fear and misunderstandings at every junction of our lives.

I asked myself while climbing the stairs towards my home when I visit the parties and hang out with friends or date, what is the void that needs to be filled? It is the spark of determination that the kid had. His acceptance of his realities and will to support his dear ones through it rather than an easy rebellion route or self-pity can guide each one of us.

I was sleepy and ready to enter the realm of dreams. The ones that showed the blue print of change required in our attitudes. The brighter, better tomorrow where each one of us brings to the fore – our unique views and creates value rather than spilling over petty issues of sexual compatibility with the cruisers at a particular location.

I guess it is these experiences that are humbling and for which Billy Joel wrote River of dreams which I am ready to enter blissfully

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