Love's many mysteries

Yes, I know I am writing after forever and I confess I have all the intentions to be more regular here but sigh ! facebook is eating into my creative self expression big time. So i reserve this space for something more exclusive and particular like the post that's about to follow

Have you ever had one of those moments of epiphany when you see much more into something others just cannot? I have had those many times and my analysis is flavoured and hued by my Mumbaikar brain more often than not in such times. Here I was sleepless like almost always meaninglessly online and transferring songs to my 2 gb Mobile phone memory card. I decided to hear one of many songs from my 30000 odd mp3 collection.  My next step ahead was much like  any other internet addicted idiot box less person . I searched for the song on youtube. While i was searching for "Yeh dhuan" from Charas with Namrata shirodkar grooving amidst smoky hills of manali, I landed up on Dia Mirza and Emran hashmi crooning "yeh dhuan dhuan sa rehne do" with brilliant piano rendition by Richard Clayderman( an artist who I have worked with in past and goes without saying that I am in awe of).

So I decided to see the song since I like to music despite the fact that the film it belongs to is sheer disaster in second half due to director troubles. I had  conveniently forgotten the genius of Anurag Basu ( director of the flick who discovered his cancer illness during the filming of Tumsa Nahin Dekha  - flick in question) and vulnerability of man who is still a roguish boy really (Emran Hashmi  - the lead actor).

The song struck to me like a tonne of bricks had fallen on my half drunk head - thanks to two pegs on old monk i had gulped on saturday night as compensation of missing Gay bombay parties I frequent. Let me sum things up for you.  What  has always appealed to me about the basic plot of this flick is that - it sets premise of a poor bar dancer girl and richie rich boy in love coming to terms with their reality. The girl lives in hope of finding someone who would love her and also marry her to redeem her from the stigma and embarassment of her vocation.  The boy spoilt by abundance thrives on need to fulfill his whims and fancies including that of having the woman he desires and loves with him as cherry on the cake he hasn't quite enjoyed by himself.

The conflict sets in when his grandmother refuses to offcially grant sanction to this love story and threatens to take away his much seeped habitual riches in case he pursues marriage with the bar girl. This leads to something unheard of in Indian cinema atleast. Our man clearly admits his weakness to the girl he loves that he cannot abandon his luxuries for being with her. He wants both and thus offers her to be his mistress for insane sum of 4 crores, which would solve all her issues. She does not need to be a bar dancer anymore or  be looked down upon by others as money silences all wagging tongues. Now it is upto her to either support him in getting engaged to a girl of his stature just as a social farce or to demand what she longs for - marriage and status as a wife. ( i will come to my connection with this point later)

It is at this juncture that the boy says yes to being engaged to the proxy girl but invites the bar girl to come to his engagement as well. She comes there apprehensive and vulnerable as his love is something she can't do without and here on starts magic of these two people - Anurag Basu and Emran hashmi.

The technical aspects of cinematography and framing compensate for poor production value associated with Vishesh Films ( a  production House i both adore and get irritated with for their matter of fact approach to movies). Lighting is brilliant and our boy  expresses his helplessness and passion first discreetly while playing piano like many other rich brats we see in hollywood . Its the effectiveness of this under rated actor's expressions and the tenderness of music and lyrics that build up the momentum. As we move ahead, full throttle vocals of roop kumar rathod hit you like a sudden gush of cold breeze awakens a person traveling sleepily. I was pleasantly surprised at poise of diya mirza (definitely directos's input) which is complimented by technique to show her silent in the party but singing in her fantasy. To each movement, verse and action,  her bar girl character is responding almost in her mind's eye (vision set in picturesque lonavala valley).  Interesting to say the least how the continuity is blended well and the core of the story and its characters maintained. Surely, a bar dancer would not openly revert to advances of her lover if she is attending his engagement. He continues and she silently partners cos her love is above all.  Her will to be his wife, his actions of hurting her by proposing her to be his mistress - dont exist in the moment where they both ask for the time to just be dewy and hazey just to say what their heart wants to speak to each other. Their expression of love is silent but very visible.

Now i will let  you watch it before explaining my perspective apart from cinematic brilliance of the moment so well built

So now that you have seen the passion and heard the melody, I can share that My ex is married to a girl. Before marrying her, he shared it with me that he needed a family and  was not strong enough to alienate his family by choosing to live with a gay man.  He needed me by his side as he feared rejection from the girl's family and I stood by him till his proposal was accepted. I had an option to have him dependent on me  for lifetime and stay  as third angle but I chose otherwise. I would have had all that I had dreamed of but without the tag of being his life partner, which I didnt agree to.

my questions ensue...

As a urban resident of this big bad metropolis, do you think she should compromise her love for just a title of mistress instead of wife even though she will have the man she loves by her side, looking after her and her woes of being a girl who thrives on skin show coming to an end?

Do you think the man who does not attempt running away with her and then failing,  becomes any less a human?

Do you think it dilutes that spark in eyes when you see that one face in crowd that you long for , if your life is as complex as of these characters?

Do you think in a city like Mumbai, there wont be straight or gay versions of these lovers anywhere?

Do you think any of us have any right to judge any two individual's life and chemistry because of their choices?

Do you think if the character or I had chosen to be with the man who needs his marriage along with love on the side, would we be any less human?

Do you think amongst love's many mysteries - one of them is that denying yourself the proximity of your lover is most difficult no matter how wrong is the choice?

Please think and respond :)

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.

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

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…

Heartfelt

Heart sat sadly looking at Life going past him

He felt jinxed; who ever his shadow fell upon would go far away

He called out their names but the echoes came back alone, none would fetch back his beloved

Heart dreamed of days when he would see him smile

He felt emotions move within like mercury drops on a leaf, restless and bright

He would sigh at his karma and just pray harder each time as he tried resisting the touch

Heart thought loneliness was his destiny

He asked the universe why is love so cruel and fate a sadist

He got his answers in silent spaces between his sulks,

His quest was his destiny; it was for him to know

Unorchestrated divine symphony, his life was for him to grow

Weak as he felt, his strength would follow

The dawn would soon be sent; death threats of the dusk are hollow

I wonder how it would be, if it wasn't like this

Some moments sinking into feelings of love…
Restlessness and distress running through the veins of my days…
Proximity of your heart and intimacy of your body heat…
I wonder how it would be, if it wasn't like this

Only if distances between us didn't exist…
I loved you with my heart and soul…
I admired you every moment in my mind's eye…
I wonder how it would be, if it wasn't like this

My beloved, I would have given you my all just to hear you say it just once
Nostalgia struck me only to remind…
All the moments of my life when I loved and loved loving…
I wonder how it would be, if it wasn't like this

If we wouldn't have met ever, the sighs of my past would have stung me and my mirror would ask a thousand questions
It seems impossible to wait anymore for your arrival
My breaths would escape and I would be left lonely without you…
I wonder how it would be, if it wasn't like this
This wait wouldn't have lasted forever and I wouldn't be helplessly praying

The storm that we faced a while back, the destruction we encountered,
That surge would have taken us with its currents,
I wonder how it would be, if it wasn't like this
We wouldn't have lived just to see a glimpse of each other