ऐसा क्यों होता है

हर अनजानी दस्तक कुछ पहचानी सी लगती है
हर बात एक याद, हर मुलाक़ात कहानी सी लगती है
भूले से नाम, भूले से गम हैं
किसी भूले से दर्द से आँखें नम हैं
राहत नहीं किसी भी पनाह में
कुछ फ़र्क नहीं फर्ज या गुनाह में
दीनों के बोझ से बोझील कदम
और बेगानी डगर पे हमसफ़र हम
कभी तुम बद गए आगे
कहीं पीछे मुद ना सके हम
अधूरी दास्तानें मील जाती हैं अक्सर
बेखुद सी मुस्कानें खिल जाती हैं लैब पर

बस एक कशीश बस एक ख्लिश
एक कशमकश का आलम हैं
रास्ते कई हैं बदने को
साथ चलाने के लीये नज़र में हमनवा कम हैं

सवाल लीये फीर हर छूते दर का रुख करना चाहता है डील
खबर नहीं इससे जाने क्या होगा इस जीद से हासील

चेहरों की भीड़ है फीर भी जाने कीसकी तलाश है
शायद बीते लम्हों की वापसी चाहता हूँ या वक्त के पलट के आने की आस है

कुछ देर बस दम भर लूं
मन्ज़िल से नज़र हताके हर रास्ते का, हर हमनवा का शुक्रिया अदा कर लूं
सफ़र नहीं रुक सकता के कारवां आगे बढाना है
आनेवाले कल में ही गुज़रा ज़माना लॉट के आना है

यही चंद साँसे उधार की हैं
यही कुछ लम्हे उनके इंतज़ार की हैं
बस शाम ढलने को है
ख़्वाब मील्ने को हैं

ज़िंन्दगी का यही दस्तूर है
हर दील को मुकाम पाने के लिये ख़्वाब देखते रहना ज़रूर है

Average Joe and the Urban Life

Every impulse in my body screams for me to run away. It wants me to find shelter in peaceful existence far from this maddening experience of urban melancholy, loneliness and other hazards of living in this city. Shadows and showers have both dampened and darkened my hopes but I hold on.

There are times in life when the concrete roads under your feet do not count for solid foundation of life. It’s a reckoning to live simple and to shed the skin of the stress filled lifestyle of an average Mumbaikar. Aggravating at times and admirable at others, the two sides of the coin representing the metropolitan life are remarkably clear in this moment. I hear the inner voice long silenced for perks, a rented roof on my head and surviving this matrix. Dwelling on borders of depression and bankruptcy, the small game of running in circles can be exhausting. It might be a price far larger than anyone of us is willing to pay.

Our dreams have become limited to winning this chicken run when the picture has to be larger and all encompassing, a lifetime of peace and happiness, no matter what it constitutes. The traditional view of happiness as a big bank balance, a secure home and a family might seem achievable in this everyday chase for cheese. The question remains. Are we all compromising the limitless potential of human spirit by indulging in this rat race that seems inevitable?

Is there a way of living that would provide redemption from the mandatory urban sins of stepping on toes for survival? Does animalistic desperation to stock for harsher seasons and to find the prey for the day equate to basic potential of a human? Can life be more beautiful if we set ourselves and our minds free right here in this alabaster floored jungle? Does wake up and smell the coffee really mean that our senses should be used to the optimum over the daily struggles?

Will choosing to see beauty in our losses provide a sense of calmness that we seek at the winning post? Will working harder to really see everyone at workplace happy, rather than working in our mundane mechanical and sly ways release us from the weight of success and achievements? Will keeping our heads in laps of our mothers and letting them know that they mean the world to us cover up for the false praise of the gaudy Gucci gown a boss’s wife sported?

I would like to believe that it will. The learnings are few but precious. Rules of the game always applied but the spirit with which you play will determine, whether you survive or live a life no matter where you are

A marriage and a mirror

“Somebody pull the drapes” she thought. Her eyes were shut still in spite of the light hitting her directly through the big french windows she had got fixed earlier this week in her soon-to-be-ready dream home. After some inconsequential stirring in the bed and attempts to sleep with the sheets pulled over her head, Nisha had to give in and open her eyes when her phone rang to high notes of the latest pop track. It didn’t bother her that she was late for work but the first thought to hit her when she answered Rishi’s call was that he shouldn’t tell her about any more delays or problems in her wedding schedule. Her quick attempts to clear her throat and sound husky instead of groggy worked as Rishi was driving. The traffic noises rendered him deaf to her real state as he imagined his pretty bride to be in all her beauty and feminine glory on his way to see the new give aways suggested by the wedding planners.

Rishi spoke of many things not realizing how sticky and uncomfortable Nisha was feeling with the sweat as the air conditioner had given way to all the dust of renovation. To his ignorant bliss and to her discomfort it had refused to start up last night in Mumbai’s unbearable humidity. She heard patiently for a few minutes to his stories about his friends traveling from all over the globe and relatives who have excused themselves inspite of staying next doors. In some time, her restlessness began to show and now she had him on the speakerphone, trying to read the glossy parts of the newspaper.

When Rishi spoke of how beautiful she would look in her wedding outfit amidst the flowers, Nisha couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of him actually seeing her right now with hair messed up, sweat over her brows and legs folded on the dining table cluttered with everything under the sun. Rishi on the other end thought that her laughter was a sign of embarrassment and a confession of love but like most men he was too pre-occupied with his own thoughts to be able to guage hers. Then suddenly Nisha saw something and no longer thought it was rude to hang up on her beau to be.

‘Suneet Karnik’s wedding to be an exclusive affair’ read the headline and it went ahead to describe how the gliteratti of Mumbai would be spilt into two camps on this day and how it would be quite interesting to compare both the weddings, the grandest being hers and and small elite affair which was his. Obviously Rishi hadn’t seen this piece. He didn’t read much and usually it comforted Nisha when she shared with him what she felt about the characters from various novels, pieces of news and some random column she spotted. Today she was plain angry at his ignorance. She lit up a cigarette and began racing her mind on how she could make sure that in next seven days without disturbing the wedding schedule, she could take care of making her special day, extra special by beating her ex-boy friend Suneet in this petty game.

Her wedding cake was decided, clothes were ready, people were arriving, her boy friend was over the moon with her acceptance of this alliance but something was missing. Her thoughts were hazed. She felt her heart sinking and before she knew she was in comfortable embrace of the taste of a chocolate bar. Sinful and hazardous to the figure she wanted to be flaunted at her wedding, this indulgence was the least harm she could do under such dire circumstances. She got up after two bites of this bliss and messaged Rishi that she would call him after a long shower.

Her mind was racing as she scrubbed the behinds of her knee, according to her the most ignored part of human anatomy. She couldn’t help but wonder why Suneet would fix up his wedding on the same day as hers. Was it just to prove a point to her or did he know it too well that she would react to this? Was it a final resort that he had taken to get her to act on her love for him? Was he just trying to see if she still loves him and would she call? He of course knew, how she got angry at such things. He used to do little things to tease her.

She remembered a time when she asked him to buy her roses from a street urchin on a signal and he refused very wryly. She remained silent and burst out finally when he dropped her home and asked why she is so upset. After 5 minutes her doorbell had rung and she could see at least a 100 roses in hands of 4 street urchins sent by him with a card saying that she looked lovely angry, the blush of anger gave her skin a very lovely shade of pink. She remembered how she cursed him the whole day, called him in ecstasy and said I hate you before what she wanted to say now “ I love you Suneet”

She stepped out of shower and decided to call Rishi to get her thoughts off suneet. His voicemail replied and she felt sillier than ever knowing his habit of turning his phone off when he was in any meeting, be it as trivial as selection of give-aways for their wedding. She dialed her boss and excused herself off the day’s work by talking of her marriage. She knew that she could sketch the new spring summer collection sitting at home also only missing the vending machine cappuccino that she was so addicted to.

On her way to the kitchen, she came across the mirror and wondered if she would carry the delicate wedding dress without tripping on it while taking the mandatory seven pheras or circles around the fire of holy matrimony. Then she thought of how Isha, Suneet’s fiancé would look in her wedding dress, she hoped that Isha wouldn’t look better than her but wondered why she was even bothering to go there. While making her coffee, she dug further into the chocolate which had melt by now thanks to the failed air conditioner and the city heat.

She stared at the water boiling for the coffee and felt a bit weird as she felt the urge to put her favourite music on. Nisha didn’t even have to search for the dido cd. All she had to do is hit the play button to hear her croon the pain of her love.

After a while, the water for coffee was boiling in the vessel, music was still on and Nisha had crossed a chasm of knowing that she still loved suneet and Rishi was her alibi. She had weighed the reasons and securities that this marriage would give and the happiness walking out even at this moment would bring.

Hugging a pillow she left a sigh, tore her favourite photo of her and suneet together. She had torn her dreams and compromises both at that instant. She was to give up her dream home, bank balance and a chance to beat her ex boy friend with a grander wedding reception. The Music had died and she was waiting for Rishi to call and to tell him about the cancellation of wedding of a couple that never was…

Faith and a writer

Assaulted by multiple thoughts, I write every time. I am not left alone ever. It’s a pulsating feeling of restlessness. I am nothing but a burning desire to be what I am meant to be, a timeless immortal written word. I close in my mind’s eye and pledge to reach there not knowing how and not knowing when. Bracing the wings of my imagination with the harness of rationale, my pen moves. The ink flows slowly sometimes and rapidly at others. The words that form are as uneven as the pace but kaleidoscope and asymmetrical, not necessarily beautiful but true nonetheless as real as my journey inwards. Soon I am looking at reflection of my psyche, my world turned inside out.

Each word reflecting labour and pain of delivery haunts me, the creator besotted by his own creation. A feeling of admiration rises from within and am entranced for a while observing the lines on paper which ran through my head a while back as a signal of my nerves, channeled by life and blood. A small prayer moves to my lips and I thank my creator who I don’t know but I do hope would look at me as admirably as I look at these words.

Kaarwaan

Khayalon ka kaarvaan nahin rukta, badhta jaata hai par rokna chahta hoon waqt ko kahin us lamhein pe jab hum dobaara milein… chaahta hoon ki bhool jaaon aur zindagi tere ilaava bhi hai… chaahta hoon ki bas tujhe dekhne ki hi naukri ho…. Shayad dua maangna bhi isiliye jaari hai ki ussi ki aas hai… kisi din to who khush ho nemat mein tujhe baksh de… ghulaam ya uska banda.. yeh to khabar nahin, lekin ishq ki giraft mein bandgi bhi daulat nahin tujhe maangti hai

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

Summer days of contradictions

It’s a sunny day today. Pleasant and familiar, taking me back to the idle afternoons of childhood and discovery of many joys in boyhood. My world as a child revolved around my home in a sleepy suburb of Mumbai. Somewhere close to the mean madness of the metropolis, my township provided me ample of adventures to last one summertime after another.

I witnessed my best friend’s upbringing in a cliché south Indian fashion where life ideally is as simple as an idli. The formula to follow is to bury your noses and more into books while in school and college and at the most learn carnatic music, bharata natyam or join a chess club if inclined towards extracurricular activities. Simultaneously my Punjabi upbringing had its share of problems of a disjointed nuclear family that hadn’t been able to find any roots in this city except a small flat in the suburbs. Most of my family which would have been responsible for my identification or association with my culture or traditions was in north India, scattered like beads of a gaudy ornamental necklace.

As far as the environment goes, this apartment was the only thing that connected me to my neighbours, none of whom had a wish to dream big, leave alone ambitions to conquer the city they were a part of.. An opinion was considered lethal for a kid my age and determination was viewed as an inconsequential part of a child’s make believe games. Somehow I knew from day one that I was a square peg and should not even think of trying to fit into these round holes. I wore similar clothes to their kids, I had same issues like the lack of money, space and privacy as most of them, but I never let the awareness of my distinction sink into depths of my mind. It didn’t need recall even though I gained expertise in local dialects and could hold a conversation in Marathi as fluently as English, much to the amusement of my neighbours.

As a true blue member of the bollywood city, I had started my reading one summer looking at a movie ad in paper and reading it in roman Hindi with the alphabets S-H-O-L-A-Y. This biggest hit of Indian film industry may not be in my list of personal favourites, but does hold its significance just like these incoherent facts. Well let’s put things in perspective. Though I enjoyed being a witness to my friend’s life which worked in clockwork precision and produced some wonderful results for him, I never regretted not having much order in my life.

Through my college, I sang, danced, and acted on stage and off it into jobs that I fancied, while he studied to get top grades, as if he would ace in life if he topped his class. His summers ended with results of his annual run to the winning post, mine just were intervals till I returned to be my old social butterfly self.

In a summer after college, I fell in love, maybe for the first time as earlier I had loved my girl friend but wasn’t in love with her. This time it was a boy from US who found me online. My afternoons were sunny with smileys, days were filled with reading print outs of romantic emails over and over again. Maybe it was the heat or blind puppy love, but if there was a smile that mattered to me, it was his. I basked in radiance of his love. We planned gazillion things about his visit to Mumbai, our life in coming years and more like two kids, sitting idly deciding lives of their dolls in the perfect pink plastic house

I moved out of my parent’s home but he didn’t turn up online for long. I called his dorm to know that he hastened his chemotherapy as a medical student authorized to do so for a non-malignant tumour in his head and had expired due to brain hemorrhage. That summer didn’t cheer me up. The memories of it still don’t fade. Harsh brightness of the days mocked my dark life and warmth scalded my heart. His memories were coupled with a knowledge that no one else in the world probably knew his true nature. His thoughts, emotions or desires were all unknown, uncared for and died with him. I lived for the seasons to change, rain soaked my spirit and winter froze the fire of anger within.

Today, it’s been many years since and many people have come and gone in my life. My friend still awaits his arranged south Indian marriage and works 24 x 7 like a good boy. He hasn’t faced deaths except a few old relatives. That’s because he didn’t venture out much in sun listening to his mother who warned him of burns. I remain friends with him and connect as frequently or infrequently as per my work. The reason for doing so eludes me. Maybe I want to be rooted in ordinary mundane life too even if I fancy my alternative lifestyle. Security of love and family still has value for me as it has for him. But for me, summer is knocking again. Mornings are arriving earlier and twilight seems to evade me. The question remains what to expect this time. Nostalgia remains and enthusiasm for new day too. Summer strikes and I wait for its bittersweet contradictions to unfold. As I head towards an unknown destination jogging early morning, I reach a conclusion that no matter which road u take, the sun will shine bright. It’s for us either to stand in way of its light and warmth completely and bloom from bud to a flower or to stagnate with security of never reaching our true potential in shades.

Triangle of hearts (continued and completed)

The three disappointed souls now headed to sit by the sea. S had been driving for the past two hours and the other two i.e. me & A were guiltily sitting alongside wondering what we could do to ease the blow of the unexpected anti-climax.

It seemed as if we were collaboratively mourning not being able to attend one Gay Bombay party where we would meet the much known faces and be disgusted by the overtly lusty ambiance. Its as if our skewed equations didn’t matter as much for the moment as the great loss of not being able to dance to the music we would crib about later while calling the DJ names and swearing not to attend more such parties any more. But our behavior had less to do with vanity and more the disappointment of not having any other venues to party as queer individuals.

S said something about all the promises he made to friends of seeing them at the party and I got reminded of all my favourite faces who would have helped me forget this uneasy feeling of being a loser and it struck me that all of us were looking for an escape route to forget our troubles and our selves in the loud music, drinks and company of acquaintances, newbies and friends. The slow sad songs being played on radio were definitely not helping in getting over that void we were feeling together and we parked at the beginning of Mumbai’s famous scenic sea facing road stretch, aptly called the Queen’s necklace. A said, forget the party, we three should enjoy what we have right now, the beautiful sea and raising his collar he completed, beautiful people.

I had drifted to times when I was more like A in life. It was a time when I was guilt free. Flirting was for fun and if one person showed any remote symptoms of rejection, I pole vaulted into another fancier love relation with skill of a trained athlete and grace of a passionate dancer. Like a rock made brittle by waves and sun, my spirit too was dampened by my scorpion trait of obsession and self destruction. I looked up at the clear sky cussing at the stars and was suddenly aware of the thick air once more.

This was time for he shaman within me to try and heal the wounds. I took charge of the decision making process of where in Mumbai would this love triangle with three asymmetrical angles fit in at this hour. The empty streets reflected our idle minds and dim street lights, the tinge of sadness of change in plans. I asked S & A in quick successions “what next?” trying to salvage the situation and attempting to look excited at the prospect of any of the now chosen compromises instead of the GB party

A told us that he had curfews and that he had lied to his family to come today for the party. Since he wasn’t allowed to remain out late. He wanted to return this time, so that he could actually party the next time. Aha, my thoughts went. It was a eureka moment, so that was the secret of maintaining a princess like aura around him – exclusivity. So S, who thinks he is a prince, finds his perfect match in princess A, the one who is forbidden by her family to fall in love but she still risks it for the sake of her Prince “Balding”

Do you want to eat something? Asked A and pulled my cheek. His display of affection towards me was perplexing as he was not remotely the kind of person I would date or hang out with. I nodded my head in affirmative to him and turned to S to ask if we would head towards our regular haunt, just to realize that no matter who would be with S in middle of the night looking for a snack, he would be taken to the hang out clearly etched as ours. A agreed to eat by the street side at what was no longer “our haunt’

As we moved further back towards home, now speeding on the empty streets of suburbs, I changed the music to soulful classic Hindi/ Urdu ghazals, high on sentiment quotient. Though being sentimental or emotional was the last thing on my mind, I began humming the lyrics and trying to savour the whiffs of breeze against my face and my body, which was already exposed to the ac S had turned on full blast to avoid the heat if the moment. S looked at me and who are you thinking of while you sing these lines, which of your ex do you remember this way?

That was like rubbing salt over my burns and making me feel highly aware of the wide chasm between us in spite of sitting at less than an arm’s distance

I reacted coldly but with furious look of eyes “which one of my ex do you think I made this song compilation for, so that they can hear it in their car?

There was a silence in the car for the next minute or so for me to realize that I had confessed maybe for the first time to S in person (had told him on phone, smsed it and more). That too in front of my worthy contender for hopefully the last time.

After about a dozen non-stop sneezes A came to my rescue and offered a massage to help me feel better.

In this vulnerable state I looked at S, who would have been against me giving in to A’s advances otherwise. He seemed fine with me accepting help for the sake of health. Sneezing and simultaneous thinking stopped for a while as A began without waiting for my approval.

His warm hands did not feel like the ones which would strangle me for loving and lusting over his guy. As he progressed from nape of my neck to my spine, His hands slipped under my see=through mess tee and Soon one of his hands was feeling my nipples. I hit his hand twice as vocalizing my discomfort would add to S’s twisted expression arising from a man in his car feeling the other one up in full public view. Also, the biggest factor was that he had been sidelined by those two people who treated him like sex magnet always – irresistible and must. I thanked A after two minutes not because I wasn’t enjoying the neck rub or wanted to eat but just to stop embarrassing S

“Thanks A. lets find whatever happened to our food’

He smiled and asked S to do the needful and suggested me a remedy that helped him in cold. I looked at him amusingly as he was good at getting under people’s skin, warm and giving> Damn S was a lucky man, but it was the kind of luck you don’t wish your best friend to have as this would take him away from you.

By the time S was back, A had spoken about his skills as a masseur, S’s inability to learn the same and also about a certain occasions when he and S were supposedly in bed with individuals or groups

What S and orgy! I felt a shriek of my inner voice nearly jump out of my lips but I didn’t give in. S always told me that he disliked any kinds of threesomes or four ways. Was that a lie? Did he find me too unattractive for a three way?

Then it slowly hit me, S loved this guy so much that he was ready to go through pain at the place where pleasure is of utmost importance. S arrived with food and A’s misplaced attention shone once again as he fed me first and the he fed S too. While S fed A with that glint in the eye. I absolutely wait the evening for, A winked at me and dropped a bombshell. He proposed” Lets share everything like we are sharing the food”

Then he looked at S and said do you have any problems if we do so

S had lost the glint and was trying to look elsewhere, when in real it was visible how the people closest to us can hurt us the most even with just a few words. He was vulnerable and simultaneously liked the way conversation had humour,sex and love pot pourried to perfection. I didn’t know about him but I wanted to see it for sure now what was next in A’s arsenal. Before I realized we were heading towards the god forsaken interiors of my suburb towards A’s abode. A’s tone now was weird as we had shed our disappointment of not attending the party and were pretty content with the drive and the good humour that we maintained through the evening. He was verbally enquiring about my life and about the areas of my being that S did not know existed. He spoke of pain, love and lust in a manner that I have always wanted S to speak. A asked me what I want in life, to suffer each night in de\different beds or to cry out of that one bed all my life, maybe in it. It wasn’t A speaking. It was pain of his choices in life, which had found its voice looking at its reflections in my melancholy.

He cleverly tried to change topics to change the ambience from thoughtful to naughty. “Don’t answer that one I can see you have loved with all your being. Tell me who you want…” He glanced and Sam and completed “… for tonight?”

I did not waste any time in figuring if the Smart Alec comment was meant or not “Oh that’s your idea of entertainment for the evening. No wonder you weren’t very disappointed by party plans getting shelved”

I was enjoying this tussle of wits now and while trying to gauge S’s reaction to my earlier statement I added “I am more of a voyeur. Why don’t you both do the needful behind while I learn how to drive?”

A went back now to his story of S being cold to him and hot for others. He teased S ‘what about proving me wrong right here right now?”

While they began lover’s banter, this time A extended his story from three way to a group act. What followed was a graphic, hypothetical and comical account of s being a super stud satiating six willing queens at once”

S had a knowing smile aimed for me almost saying “ You know that I would rather die than do such a thing” I found myself slipping into thoughts that if A ever meant to be in bed with me and S simultaneously, Would S agree? The answer came in lightning flash speed. Of course he would be loved to hilt that one time. But will I say yes? Can I share the one I love with someone else? Apart from the bigger worries, were the small concerns about getting an unequal portion/ deal in such a scenario. I imagine waiting for a kiss, while two others are busy in a more intimate act.

The other fear that cropped was that historically I have been unsuccessful in my only attempt due to my penchant of laughing at the live sight of naked bodies. Who ever began the chain mail forward about 1000 things not to say during sex must have began it thinking of me and hoping that I save others from my trial and error ways.

Actually maybe I was a failure in bed and that’s why S moved away in the first place. And now things were beyond control. “Praful lets share him for the night. It’s decided” A quipped ducking to miss A’s hand which was hunting to hit him while driving. He chuckled and enjoyed irritating S but I declared the verdict of my inner dialogue “I don’t believe in sharing”

A replied ‘So give him a great time once you drop me off”
Whoa baby! This was a fast one, the kind of ball Andre agassi would be hit by. I wanted A to stop as each of these statements were bringing out my desires, all of which I thought were resolved and not repressed. But no, the roots existed; just the plants weren’t visible above the surface. With Kind sprinkling of fluid sexuality, the earth of my emotions went loose. The seeds that contained lives, my dreams and desires about S were threatening to tear open the surface and shoot out with my impulse to not only agree but also act on each suggestion.
But hey isn’t that what he wants, to instigate me, get me to act foolish, to ruin the respect S has for me, to prove it to me that I am not worth any high self esteem. Sorry Mr. A, I am not the kinds who give in, not the monkey who walks into your booby trap. I gave him a raspberry in my head while the car stopped in front of his complex.

He didn’t want us to drop him at his doorstep.
Ah! He was ashamed to be seen with us, well something common that he has with S. having known S for so long, I had never seen him make any efforts to mention about other significant people of his life. Be it his ex girlfriend, or the first gay person who he shared the bed with or the best friend from college.

He liked to maintain compartments of his life. All of us were distinctly classified and conveniently placed as separate parts of his life as per the labels – love life/ sex life, professional, leisure, gay friends and maybe more labels. So A was one of those who liked to be placed in closet along with brooms and went from a drag queen to discreetly gay straight acting person in 10 seconds flat… ooh. Match alright for S.

They kissed before he left our sides. S hesitated, looked at me once but the rarity of A’s company maybe led him to breach the holy rule. But hey this wasn’t the first time he kissed some one in front of me. It wasn’t the first time my heart tore into million little pieces of shattered glass. As A bid goodbye, I looked at Sam and hum. They looked so happy together that I forgot about my shattered heart. S was smiling one of those glorious smiles that said ‘Yes. I am on top of the world.”

He had held A’s hand and was asking A to stay a bit longer. A enjoyed the attention but reluctantly refused. He asked me to make S understand. I smiled and nodded in negative saying “I would faour my friend.”

A stepped out in a mock act of cursing me and placed his lips on mine. My thoughts went “Did he just kiss me? But… How can he? How dare he? Oh my god!!”

I turned my face to see S who was not amused by my delayed reaction but at least I hadn’t kissed back like he had done on so many instances. Maybe he would realize 1/ 1000th of pain that I felt. Maybe I was glad that he did. Amidst these thoughts, before I could wave properly, A was gone, we moved ahead and S casually asked me my opinion about A, beaming in joy, basking in radiance of his affection and love for the humorous , seductive and caring individual who had just left the space physically by existed between us in spite of that.

I said “Don’t let him go. Love him cos he loves you. I realize by looking at him that he might have to marry due to parental pressure and that even you consider the same. There might be no concrete future for your relation but sweets, live for the moments of ecstasy. I have never seen you happier than your boyish adamant rogue demands of him to stay back. You had sparks honey. It’s precious. Please be with him, love him with your heart and soul.”

I felt I wouldn’t be able to breathe while saying this but I continued
“S, if you do not love him as it’s a risk or because he is possessive, you would deprive yourself of a beautiful relationship. Ask me how it feels to long for someone and not being able to get him/ her. I have spent the whole f^#@king evening today in that one frozen emotion of pining. Don’t do this to him or yourself. It pains S, to know that all the happiness you want exists only for you to chose but destiny has decided otherwise. But luck favours you here. Even if he does not admit, he loves you like crazy. Don’t ignore him like you ignored me.”

I burst into tears and felt the rising volcano within my chest burst out. I saw that S had moist eyes but could not hold myself back. The music that was playing but I hadn’t noticed for quite sometime was ghazal about a person waiting from many lifetimes for his beloved it wasn’t the right song for the moment. It would make me cry more, so I ejected it but he played it again, maybe now knowing who I had burnt the CD compilation for and also what it felt being subjected to indecisiveness and eternal conflict between love and lust, purity and pleasure, pain and passion. Maybe he allowed the heat of the moment to take over his A/c and thus he rolled the window down. In his single tear, I saw his realisation roll down his cheek. He apologized and I wiped my face. Maybe I was 25 yet and he was 28 at the end of the night but we had grown, so had our hearts, our relation and only thing that had reduced was the distance between these two angles of the triangle.

One world outside and within

I have lived in the self indulgent bliss of thinking that the world of thoughts and feelings within me is completely separated from the world outside, where I talk, socialize, love, win and lose. I look at the endless crowd at a Mumbai beach close to my home, sitting as couples families and friends and can’t help but think how many of them would have gone through a similar phase in life, where in the thoughts and feelings harboured inside were kept from being expressed.

I am on my way to treat my family to a lunch at city’s posh eatery, something that has not been done before. But today at the age of 26, I see my parents nearing 60 years of their lives, still struggling and living within a marriage that has lasted 32 years with just a few happy moments and memories. I have kept them away from my inner world for long, even moved out of my home 4 years back for the declaration of my need for space and individuality.

I arrive early at the decided venue before my parents and my sister and book the table with the air of arrogance that they are late and also that they wouldn’t know their way around this place. I make a reservation and settle on a bench when I see my father and he gives a smile that I return almost as if I am doing a favour.

While he calls my sister to find where have they reached I ponder whether anger, love and guilt when unexpressed and unfulfilled really vanish under wraps with a quaint smile or silence? Is this garb impenetrable as we think of it to be? Does the silent sibling rivalry crop up as adultery? Does backstabbing a friend result from an unexpressed compliment about new dress? Does the devil within your head work more slyly and stealthily than the angel who needs you to act on your good will? Isn’t the scary silhouette outside the manifestation the dark fears within our minds?

As we proceed to our table as soon as my mother and sister arrive to complete our nuclear family like many others sitting at an arms distance from us in the cramped space.The service is as prompt as any authentic Thali joint with 12 waiters serving 36 dishes or more in 3 minutes flat, leaving you amazed at the feat that they pull simply and charmingly. The whole routine coupled with delicious food and presence of loved ones brings smiles naturally to all members on my table. Warmth of the moment thaws ice for me and I smile too, but this time looking at their satisfaction at a simple gesture of treating them to a not so fancy meal.

I dwelve within mentally for a reality check on why did I move away from these smiles if they bring me so much of peace and are worth cherishing. Realisation dawns on me that I fear staying with them because of my own discomfort with their ways which I associate to being unrelatable. Have they never felt the passive aggression of my rebellion against the norms they advocate? Right from the grunge attire to choice of career and lifestyle contrasting to theirs is not a co-incidence. I am enlightened in a flash then.

I can see that all the causes I made subconsciously at the thought and feeling level resulted in the bitterness before as I acted on them sooner or later. The silence that I thought dealt with them, didn’t actually end them. Just like a cat does not go away if the pigeon shuts his/ her eyes, a problem does not get solved unless we act on it.

Every discomfort, unhappiness and suffering has a route in our indecision and inaction or dearth of will to see the truth. When we seek the answers for problems outside within us, we are sure to find a thread that lead to the action, maybe a thought, a hurt, an encouragement, a misunderstanding. Though intangible, these things do manifest into world outside. If we see a visible pattern that harms, it is just a question of letting it go and to create new cause.

I cleaned my conscience and got rid of my biases as I washed my hands. The disease was gone. After taking care of the bill, impulsively I took my sister and mother shopping for daily groceries at the biggest Hypermall of Mumbai. For once, I was there to buy happiness not for me but for my family without any grudge. My world was turning inside out. The catalyst was within and the change started there as well but I saw the glint in eyes outside. I wasn’t missing my ignorant bliss at this moment but silently celebrating the knowledge gained.

On my way back home, I am sure that these fundamental patterns deeply etched within my own life however upsetting remain true. I wonder how many such inconsequential and illogical beliefs have seats within mine and everyone else’s psyche. Reaching back to threshold my home, I determine to harmonize my worlds with every thought inside and action outside

Comfortably Numb

I am comfortably numb this monday morning, blue as if there was never any warmth of sun that touched it or any surge of blood that made it blush

I stare at screen of this man made wonder only to ask myself...

Is it less painful than a accident when the realisation dawns upon you that two people who you cared about the most for on this planet have their own agendas, none of them have you in them.

Are you called a survivor, if your heart has been broken into gazillion little pieces of glass and you are alive, shouldnt it be considered a miracle?

what if you wake up one fine morning and you are living a different life, no securities, no familiarity, no safety? Arent u braver than any soldier that day to continue to fight the battle for daily bread?

Do questions always lead to answers or choke to end in uncomfortably dark silences gasping for breath?

Does any dream ever get fulfilled? Do doubts die away? Does love really stay?

The list goes on, the quest never ends, theres pain of stmbling upon different things on path to love as its blind, bleeding on thorns that roses bring, i sing, cos i want to.. maybe its a cry but no tears i wonder why?

Is end of suffering, the beginning of liberation? Do hurts really make you stronger to protect the core? is it the divine dicohotomy that when you fall into a deep trench, the only way out is up

Stormy Solitude

An evening, crimson with mad rage, goes far away

The fierce winds bring in fears that it will be lost to never return

A thousand swirling black clouds, restless and angry, ask questions

When the echoes are unanswered they silently mutter a thousand curses

Night sky, dark and discontent, breaks into manouvres damning life’s overwhelming truths

Light shines though loathing and secrets of heartbeats, of temptations, sins and salvation

Along with thunderbolts of agony, comes breeze filled with dust, maybe ashes of dreams

Drenching my heart and burning my mind, a teardrop of acid rain soaks my palms

A triangle of hearts

My life had been vague recently. The boundaries between, truth and lies, real and surreal were wafer thin. Sadness was as much a part of my life as a smile that erupts from looking at an acquaintance or a friend as a knee jerk reaction.

My crush S hadn’t called me to accompany him to the Gay Bombay party as almost always. Though I clearly remember that it was him, who had taken my mind off my usual lows of loneliness, feeling unloved and worthless with an hour-long phone conversation last night. Even he knew and somewhere deep down I was aware that the empty feeling in spite of a decent job, a loving family (the kinds that I stay away from for sanity sake) and a series of achievements stemmed from him. My insecurities of losing him were so accentuated that I counted them amongst my list of compulsions. My other most obvious and frequent compulsion was and still is checking my pockets for house keys at least five times before shutting the door in spite of being locked out only once in last two years.

Sitting at home, waiting for his call would make me more miserable and crankier. So I got ready reluctantly and between a face wash and cologne, I spoke to him for the first time to enquire his plans for the evening only to realize that he would be accompanied by his crush A

S and I had a history wherein he was a confused bisexual who met me while I was recuperating from a major abusive relationship, which was dear to me more than life. The result was that initially I mated like rabbits with S, whose real name surprisingly is Bunny.

Though normally I am not comfortable sleeping around like the usual gay suspects but with him, not an ounce of guilt cropped as twinkle of his eyes, that glint which contains all his boyish naughtiness, curiousity, purity, innocence, righteousness and more kept me from ever doubting that it was plain lust. It saved me from damnation and even helped me to be strong enough to make changes in my environment but I lost touch with him fighting my daily battles of food, shelter, faith, clothes and accessories.

Next time he met me at a party 3 months later, my life had changed and so had our equation. From then on we moved to initial flirting, a period of abstinence, contemplating relationship to my realisation that I loved him and his fear of saying no as he was not ready. After dealing with his neglect, my anger about rejection and more, now we are close enough to share more than most people. Its weird how I am the only one who can get him to talk at times. Not that I am great expert at this but my formula is simple – give in order to get.

By the time I fixed my schedule with other friends and moved to socks, shoes and deo, S called and we spoke again. He was waiting this time near my home to fetch me. I cherish any acknowledgement of attention or care from him even if today it meant sharing him for the evening with A.

I managed to push my friends to go with others (quite literally) and entered his car. Now I was in his space. Sitting on the front seat of his car meant that I could play songs of my choice, look at him for the next 45 minutes till we reached the venue and more over I hoped to see that glint of his eye and his smile. If I was lucky, he would share one of his beliefs or heartfelt thoughts about me. Though these symptoms are of puppy love, it had been 2 years now, I was 25 while he was 28, balding, dark and had bloodshot red yes due to his lack of sleep. My excitement had never died through this period, as it turned into restlessness, may be greed to get more of him just because I knew I could not.

Amidst the anticipation for A and small talk about the party, he asked me for a favour and before he completed or mentioned, I assured him that I would sit on the backseat once A arrives. He looked a bit surprised but he was used to my uncanny knack of being honest and practical even if it meant my own loss.

I asked him about my new look, a bit sluttier than before hoping he would notice my track pants that tickled from inside due to their soft material and translucent black tee. He cribbed that he was not dressed appropriately while to me, he looked striking. He wore his charm, his appeal to be undaunted by others, being headstrong at places where it mattered.

Soon we arrived at a juncture where A was supposed to come overboard and I wished that he shouldn’t be more attractive than me. I felt guilty for being mean and not being happy for someone so close to me in mind, body and spirit like S.

There A was, dressed in all black, wearing a shirt much like mine, reminding me of our similar tastes and this unwitting competition tonight where one love would win over other. Maybe it would make me extremely happy if I won but in any case S would win nonetheless. This was the thought that calmed me, as I got up to offer A, his deserved and my desired place in S ‘s car. It seemed like I was offering him my position in S’s life. Maybe he read the grimace on my face or was genuinely nice. I heard him speak for the first time ‘ Sit. Don’t bother. I will go behind.”

I had almost forgotten to judge him or even to look at him properly due to his gesture of kindness. I curbed the demonic voice within and waited till he introduced himself. S’s face had a very strange glow. He was conscious of our presence together. He knew that air-conditioning of his car just worked superficially. The breaths within our bodies were warm with pleasure of seeing a loved one, hot with jealousy and luke warm with acknowledgement of competition for much cherished attention. But somehow I realized that the prized trophy S wasn’t so much a prize until we attached our anticipations, expectations and other emotions in their mammoth proportions.

The conversations progressed and I noticed that A was aware of S’s crush on him and also knew that getting into my good books would not be easy for him. He got personal in humour intelligently by breaching below the belt zone in manner that a man finds both titillating and welcome. Especially when he or she is sitting with a morose soul like me. My usual good humour, endless supply of oneliners and wit that attract others usually were nowhere to be found today. I thought to myself about my defense strategy in life. Except for debates, dance, singing old Hindi numbers, I have always been bad at my defense. Historically I have been bad at competing for love and attention, be it with my sister for my mother’s special gulab jamun, or with my best friend for my class teacher’s brownie points or any sweet kisses from S in the past at a party earlier. I looked up at him, he was smiling and had rested his head in an angle through which S could see him through the rear view mirror.

S was a newbie at driving and I could say A distracted him by the jerks I could feel on the front seat in spite of the seat belt. I sighed silently and wondered why did I agree to be a part of such an ordeal. I could see it clearly and could not deny that Together they were everything I ever wanted to be with S. naughty at times, Nice at others and Nasty at rest, they had a spark that would send a ripple of mixed feelings right within me. The clock was ticking but the traffic remained static as if resolved to delay my pleasure of partying and to stretch this period of discomfort. I remembered the incident when both A & me had spotted a guy forcefully kissing S and then S giving in by not resisting at a party. After we witnessed this from distance, both of us were upset but S had spent next day and more trying to pacify A. I wondered what would happen this time if history is repeated.

A spoke on phone continuously through the journey irking S due to his misplaced attention. When I tried to console him by saying that we would reach soon he reacted sharply” it’s my fault, only if I could drive better, we would reach faster. What’s the point of going to party for barely one and a half hour when to and fro travel will amount to three hours”?

He looked pissed and irritated. This was the part I did not know how to handle. He reminded me of my father who has frozen in this state forever. As a child, we had named one of our pets after dad. (Of course we didn’t tell him the secret behind the dog’s baptism) and went around calling him snappy. So we taught our dog to be lesser aggressive and to be gentle and obedient. Simultaneously I would pray for dad to get this message and training miraculously.

Anyways, A broke the tension with a quick repartee about S being hot at wrong places while he is cold in bed with A. Amused as were, we all chuckled and I saw that ice had been thawed. We would not be loggerheads in spite of S. I looked at A and knew that he chose to be wise rather than otherwise.

We were at the threshold of fun, frolic and fortnightly fare of flaunting our assets to avail of free sex dates, dancing partners and more fringe benefits but our Karma did not want us to enter the Karma lounge where the party was being hosted.

Between Mine and A’s requests for S to try and park carefully and to chill at the party without thinking how late we were, A valet arrived to inform us of the cop trouble. We could see our efforts and travel go down the drain that very second. Rather than my usual nagging about section 377 and India’s farce of a democracy, I looked at S, who was brown and not red with anger.

When he asked A and me whether we should wait and see if we can get entry into the party later, I wanted to say “ I don’t really care about the party if you don’t.” he said he wasn’t in mood to party now and I like mary’s little lamb agreed to it, but was waiting for A’s reply. It could tilt the scales, if he said that he wants to go for the party and left Sam’s side, then S would be all mine for the evening. But A didn’t do any of those things.

I stayed glued to my seat almost feeling pressed under the thumb of destiny to accompany them wherever they went now. No friends, No gay music, No drinks, I had to face my fears alone. Yes it was the time for delivery and performance. It was time for me to give my heart to my lover on a platter literally like Eklavya gave his thumb to his Guru

To be continued…