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

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

Lights, Rights and Fights of a Suburban Life

21 grams is the exact weight you lose from your body when you stop breathing; rather living and reduce to a mere body; rather corpse. Is that the weight of human life?

That's a question posed by a movie, which I saw a few years back. I remember very little about the movie but this question has remained at back of my head ever since. I have got answers to it partially time and again but the complete picture I guess will emerge only in final years of my life or at least I hope so.

I am writing today after long as amidst a usual day full of struggles to reach work on time, meeting client deadlines, work handed down by boss, catching up with friends over phone or in person as something unusual happened and I asked this again

We had just finished our dinner rather left it in between and walked out after finding a family of roaches resting in the bread basket of a famous mughlai restaurant not far from my home (we didn't pay them a dime of course). A minute after expressing my disapproval over my NRI friend's holier than thou views about India and its need to improve spurred by the dinner incident that a speeding truck brushed past him pretty close and parked a minute ahead.

I don't know what got into me and I rushed to the truck instead of my friend leaving him with another colleague who he has never met before in his life. I stood in front of the giant vehicle and began yelling full blast at the driver on the deserted road well past midnight. The guy who was definitely under the influence of alcohol, was looking amused at my act as my friend had no visible injuries and he wasn't the one who was making the noise.

I did not hit the man and began making him understand where his fault lies. He had not honked or blinked his lights and was oblivious to the fact that in his steep turn he has not made his super close parking but nearly hit someone who was saved by a microsecond by my colleague who pulled my friend very briefly from a larger harm.

For a person like me who follows a philosophy aiming at world peace - Nicherin Daishonin's Buddhism , this would seemingly be contradictory to his beliefs. it is not so in fact. I made a scene and noise enough to gather an audience of 5-6 people including two rickshaw guys and snatched the driver's ringing phone which he was more focused on. He was non-chalant about the whole episode and was standing proudly with his arm stretched over the bonnet of this large automobile.

I flung at him all that he could do in any such situations and reacted to each of his arguments about not knowing Hindi, which he was surprisingly saying in Hindi. He followed it up with his attempt to play the local Marathi language card, which was again busted as I am conversant and fluent in the language. This was followed by his over the top claim that he would pay 10 - 12 thousand rupees whatever the cost of medical damage and come to police station with me after calling his boss.

I refused to budge over his half hearted sorry mumbled with no remorse what so ever. He was more worried about delay in dumping of goods that he had been carrying for the night. My anger was mounting by the minute and I was now manhandling him to get into a rickshaw and at the same time asking him if he has realised what he has done to which he retorted with a very desi "it happens" statement. That nailed it and I stopped right there and began again on twice my earlier voice. It wasn't just his mistake but more so his attitude that made me aggressive. I was downright close enough looking at him in the eye, inches from his face and hurling away to glory about his attitude. My problem was with his excuses, which were coming by the minute and piling up.

The man was not yet convinced of his mistake and the spectators began butting in trying to take my side and every time I said I would have hit him but I want him not to do something like this again, he gave me " don’t make a issue where there is none, your friend is alive" look.

I refused to relent till I hear the man admit and realise the impact of his action rather than cocky, half hearted apologies which were coming few and far in between his arguments of how honking horn would have irritated us who were from rich families and so he did not do it before turning the truck. The driver had to apologise since I gave him no other option.

He came up with a “Are you hurt?” and I looked back sharply. I saw my friend who was hurt and was now tired as he saw no point in continuing and the other one who was just waiting for me to begin hitting this man

As much as I yelled, the crowd nearby agreed and supported me by talking to the driver about what I was saying a while back i.e. his options like honking the horn or applying brake or blinking lights during the turn. I let him go but informed him about how he has to change and learn to accept his mistakes or else him and his truck would never have a good effect back and would end up leading a very sorry life as it took him good 20 minutes, public reactions and my refusal to hand his phone to him which he wanted badly. By the looks of it, he was more concerned about his calls rather than the human life that we were talking about.

It was then I handed him back his cell phone and told the guy that I wish that he changes his ways or else what has been averted today would happen and when his family runs around to get him out of jail, his boss – the contractor he was calling would actually make him realise what he has not.

We left and walked ahead to cool our heads with a drink of coffee we were originally seeking but decided to go to our respective homes instead.

Any other person would say that our day had ended on not so good note but I differ, all that happened reassured me to carry on my quest to find my answer. What is the actual weight of life? How much does it matter? How do we instil this knowledge of holding our lives as treasures of hope, dreams, love and everything there is to being alive? How do we make humans more humane?

I smoked thoughtlessly , walking towards my home which is close by and realised that I have to find out the way of talking to each of these truck drivers from within my boss, my friends, my family, my city, my country, the world and within myself. The dialogue has to continue. My task does not end at confrontation. My task is to continue holding the knowledge that human life is precious and to convert it into wisdom into my sphere of work. I have to insure my events, not to overlook the fire norms or medical attention for cost cutting. I have to stop compromising rather neglecting the voice within.

It is me who gives life its weight, its meaning. It is me who makes it what its worth. It’s us who chose with our daily lives every moment whether our 21 grams would be used to awaken the struggle to give living its dignity, it’s worth by keeping the human life at the forefront of whatever we do.

I have my answer now and assure you that I would do my best to make my 21 grams of life worth it.

Mumbai – A metropolitan tale of musing, melancholy and mayhem

Mumbai. What keeps this metropolis ticking 24 x7 making it a city that never sleeps? I have pondered over this question for many years with many different answers, none of them completely satisfactory or encompassing micro as well as macro views of this mammoth maze

In the process, what became clearer by the day was the knowledge of what made me tick and stick in here instead of any other destination in the world. The answer is dichotomous, complex and corny, easy and earnest. At the same time, it comes across as the most clichéd thing coming from me – I love Mumbai.

Breathing the same air as 1,20,00,000 odd individuals of various shapes, sizes and sentiments, Mumbai produces all kind of emotions in me like awe, angst, anxiety and acceptance, any thing but ignorance for its sheer energy and life.

I can always find my own inner calm thinking of the quaint mornings of Marine drive that awaken the Arabian sea with sunny faces of office goers heading to Nariman Point - our very own Manhattan. The Dadar flower market becomes functional from a few hours back when the vendors get their delivery from horticulturists, who haven’t heard of horticulture but grow flowers a plenty. They have a tough nose for business contrary to the soft nature of their produce. Fisher folk from Vasai reach distant suburbs and city heartland with their catch sometimes before the twilight and the students too unfortunately have to make it to their classrooms before seeing the great star in action. Somewhere in Thane at the same time, the creek gives way to the sun from between the mangroves and a flock of sea gulls merrily perform a task normally a cock would do i.e. to provide a morning wake up call.

As the clocks gain momentum, the city awakes with a buzz of people boarding local trains and chasing the bus that revs up before most passengers board it. Mumbai is music to my ears, be it mayhem of day long trading of spices and clothes at Masjid Bunder or mundane banking routine, the rhythm pulsates its very being. Maybe that’s why there are a few dozen classics and many forgettable hindi songs that pay their tribute to living in this megapolis. If I had to compose a song reflecting the sound of this city, it would be a kaleidoscopic mix of clanking of cutting chai glasses, piped ambience music of an uppity 5-star outlet, giggles of girls at work and prayers chanted in all faiths all synced to the steady rhythm of a local train in motion.

When the daylong song and blazing sun settle down with dust on the mean streets, crimson rays make the city blush by tickling its… love spots… I mean the narrow lanes known as khau galli and the sea sides are suddenly infested by couples who are out of their hidings of concrete to breathe in fresh air. Its time for brisk business for ice candy vendors who sell by interrupting in the love routine time and again causing them to buy sometimes unwillingly. Also those lucky ones who own a home next to the sea in these days of sky rocketing realty rates, stand by the window and see life pass by in form of health conscious elder ones at Joggers Park and many other patches of greens.

At dusk, the roads are brightly lit with neon as disposable income of the city is being splurged at eateries, malls and brothels alike with each trying to outdo other promising newer and better temptations as the soot of night covers this beauty. Dinners are set at homes for the returning fathers and young lads & girls working in BPOs leave for their graveyard shift like other nocturnal beings that live dark lives in this big bad city. Soon the pulse of Mumbai, the local trains stop for a couple of hours but streets are still abuzz with nightlife

The only ones standing tall at night are a few timeless and eternal sentries of this island, the Gateway at Colaba and Sidhdhi Vinayak at Prabhadevi , Jeevdani at Virar and Haji Ali at Tardeo all face skywards with their lungs filled with life and pride of admiration that millions of visitors each day bestow upon them. On my prowl, I often find some or the other destitute on the roads on my suburb reminding me time and again to count my blessings.

So, here goes (well don’t expect it to be better than my Oscar acceptance, which I aim to deliver some day). Thank you god for making Mumbai the space, where after midnight a pregnant woman can trust a cabbie to drop her home or nursing home safe and free at times. Thank you god for letting me know that while traveling together in a journey (mumbai or elsewhere) or life, smiles work the best and make it easy. Thank you god for letting me know that one man’s poison is another man’s food and thus the differences must not be begrudged. Thank god for showing me that each individual in this city is in pursuit of happiness and finally, a request for them to be on the move forever

Words from the wise

Giving

Then said a rich man, 'Speak to us of Giving.'
And he answered:
You give but little when you give of your possessions.
It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.
For what are your possessions but things you keep and guard for fear you may need them tomorrow?
And tomorrow, what shall tomorrow bring to the overprudent dog burying bones in the trackless sand as he follows the pilgrims to the holy city?
And what is fear of need but need itself?
Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, thirst that is unquenchable?
There are those who give little of the much which they have - and they give it for recognition and their hidden desire makes their gifts unwholesome.
And there are those who have little and give it all.
These are the believers in life and the bounty of life, and their coffer is never empty.
There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward.
And there are those who give with pain, and that pain is their baptism.
And there are those who give and know not pain in giving, nor do they seek joy, nor give with mindfulness of virtue;
They give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into space.
Though the hands of such as these God speaks, and from behind their eyes He smiles upon the earth.
It is well to give when asked, but it is better to give unasked, through understanding;
And to the open-handed the search for one who shall receive is joy greater than giving
And is there aught you would withhold?
All you have shall some day be given;
Therefore give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your inheritors'.
You often say, 'I would give, but only to the deserving.'
The trees in your orchard say not so, nor the flocks in your pasture.
They give that they may live, for to withhold is to perish.
Surely he who is worthy to receive his days and his nights is worthy of all else from you.
And he who has deserved to drink from the ocean of life deserves to fill his cup from your little stream.
And what desert greater shall there be than that which lies in the courage and the confidence, nay the charity, of receiving?
And who are you that men should rend their bosom and unveil their pride, that you may see their worth naked and their pride unabashed?
See first that you yourself deserve to be a giver, and an instrument of giving.
For in truth it is life that gives unto life - while you, who deem yourself a giver, are but a witness.
And you receivers - and you are all receivers - assume no weight of gratitude, lest you lay a yoke upon yourself and upon him who gives.
Rather rise together with the giver on his gifts as on wings;
For to be overmindful of your debt, is to doubt his generosity who has the free-hearted earth for mother, and God for father.

Kahlil Gibran



Weekend Glory

Some clichty folks
don't know the facts,
posin' and preenin'
and puttin' on acts,
stretchin' their backs.

They move into condos
up over the ranks,
pawn their souls
to the local banks.

Buying big cars
they can't afford,
ridin' around town
actin' bored.

If they want to learn how to live life right
they ought to study me on Saturday night.

My job at the plant
ain't the biggest bet,
but I pay my bills
and stay out of debt.
I get my hair done
for my own self's sake,
so I don't have to pick
and I don't have to rake.

Take the church money out
and head cross town
to my friend girl's house
where we plan our round.
We meet our men and go to a joint
where the music is blue
and to the point.

Folks write about me.
They just can't see
how I work all week
at the factory.
Then get spruced up
and laugh and dance
And turn away from worry
with sassy glance.

They accuse me of livin'
from day to day,
but who are they kiddin'?
So are they.

My life ain't heaven
but it sure ain't hell.
I'm not on top
but I call it swell
if I'm able to work
and get paid right
and have the luck to be Black
on a Saturday night.

Maya Angelou

Forbidden Love and the roadmap to decriminalization of homosexuality in India

They say that my smiles of the morning after are illegal
I am criminal of seeking love in the wrong eyes,
Charged with finding comfort in the wrong caress
Raised eyebrows and misconceptions await me everyday in the eyes of some unknown and many familiar faces
Not guilty I mutter within my heart but never plead
I breathe as ever before and love as well … though forbidden


I tread the path that each mortal desires, the one of smiles, truth and love; the problem is that some co-passengers in my journey of life feel my walk needs correction. They demand that my rythematic gait be changed into a mundane of steps approved by social standards, which don’t threaten to tear the fibre of their moral fabric.

Simply speaking Section 377 of Indian Penal code looms large over my head whenever I think of my sexual identity. I like men, which is no crime in India Legally though the social system and the recent luckhnow incidents have resulted in newspaper Headlines like “Those guilty of Homosexual acts should be hung to death”. A bit too harsh- maybe but yes it is a reaction that stems out of fear for unknown.

I have always pondered about this kind of intolerance in society - be it sexuality, religion, economic or geographical biases. They all smell the same, reeking of a stench that emanates from discrimination and divides. Although, the need of the hour almost always has been to know the similarities and to draw parallels and make compromises.

The only solution that I see to the existing “legalization of homosexuality” issue is through dialogue. There have to be contributions from every member who wants to get homosexuality legalized. Sounds hunky dory and very utopian- yes I agree but when it comes to modus operandi and maintaining the comforts of closets for those who chose it, we can definitely begin with one healthy conversation at a time.

An important aspect of this dialogue process is the old and clichéd AIDA formulae used by the advertising world for eons. AIDA stands for a multiple step process that talks of attracting A-attention, evoking I-interest, generating D-desire and finally receiving A-Accrual or in this case A – acceptance from the citizens of India.

Before we move to the key message in the first phase of attention, here is some food for thought

Amongst the various prevalent norms in the society; most people welcome any custom that accepts rather than rejecting. Any country, person who even appears receptive generally has more chances of being popular. Be it roles of politician, writer, business magnet or a parent, the most successful people have always been identified by their acceptance for new knowledge, different perspectives and for listening.

As is the case with every existent thing on this planet, what we give comes back. When we treat others with discrimination, it boomerangs back into our life almost magically. Minorities in sexual preference, religious beliefs, economically, socially backward classes or various races, all hold equal amount of grudges, layers of mistrust and thereby the resultant misfortune too.