Random Ramblings

I have been planning to blog, for weeks, about the stuff I wanted the world to know about. To my chagrin, my most fertile ideas and imaginations start kicking only when I am about to fall asleep. Then, I make a note to myself that this is what is going to be written in the next post and start dreaming. I have made so many mental notes to myself, on much varied issues, from writing a book review of Pankaj Mishra's "Temptations of the west" to-why liking certain Kate Walsh does not make me straight.

Now, when we are on the topic, as asked by Chrisann, let me give you a quick explanation for my proclivity towards strong, intelligent, passive aggressive, fallen women. I used to, slightly even now, believe that sex and love are two different things, and you might have great sex with a person without loving him/her and vice versa. So, does that make it possible that I love a woman while I still want to have sex with a man. Now, this does sound like confused, but I have never been so sure about it. There have been time, when I prayed to God, to make me start liking the opposite sex. It has never worked, and believe me, I have tried hard to bring sexy, curvaceous women like Koena Mitra ( she is damn hot), Celina Jaitly, Bipasha Basu in my fantasies. But as they say, males are more overpowering, John Abraham, Rajneesh Duggal, Zulfi Sayyed, Fardeen Khan, Upen Patel stole a march over these women. I have become fully aware of and accepted myself, along with the realization that life can never be straitjacketed in compartments. My utter dismay with the appalling lack of intelligence among gay men has given way to the theory that there is a strong possibility that gay men pretend to be dumb to attract other goodlooking, dumb notwithstanding, gay men. Anyways, I can be anything to get my man but feigning ignorance or dumbing down myself is completely out of question.

Ok, enough about this, as I feel guilty that I am becoming a self obsessed faggot only blogging about my frustrations. Well, there is more to me. So why not chronicle something from last few days. I have bought DVDs of Sex and the City, from the palika bazaar, and on most days I watch three to four episodes. It has rekindled my old desire for having set of friends who I can talk to, without having to mentally calculate things and without being judged. Good friends are hard to come by, and in today's age when the whole thrust is on being young ( read juvenile), people hardly become mature in their outlook. And a few who become mature-only mentally, like me, sit alone and indulge in retail therapy or baking to kill their boredom.

My best friend from school called after some two months. We live in the same city, and it has been close to nine months since I have been in the same city, but we have seen each other just once. Now 'S' , my friend, is a fashion designer and works for perhaps the biggest ethnic wear brand in India. While we were growing up in small town north India, where having satellite TV (our only window to outside world) was an achievement, we both confided and shared each other passions. He was interested in many things like I was. We did so many things together, aside from doing the same guy, that he was like my alter ego. I was his mentor and I enjoyed the upper hand I always had in my friendship with him. Now at the risk of sounding immodest, I believed and still believe, which he rightfully acknowledges, that I was better than him at all the things that we did, most obviously studies. When he expressed that he wanted to become a fashion designer, still unheard of in the part of country we hail from, I felt a twinge of jealousy, as he was going to follow his dream, which I had to nurse stealthily and did not dare to follow. It was not something that somebody had forced me to choose, rather I opted for a safer options for lack of better information. Today, when I look at him, I don't envy him at all. Even today, I am sure, inspite of him getting professional training in fashion, I am better attuned to fashion. So after, this bit of self ego-massage, let me come to the point.

'S' has been in delhi for close to three years and has made quite a formidable reputation in the gay portals of city. In fact, while chatting, a veteran of delhi circuit asked me to meet this wonderful guy, who can speak sensibly, besides his other obvious talents. I was bemused, is this the same friend who I had guided and cajoled to join fashion, and who always looked upto me. I felt proud but it had some downside too. When I joined him on his orkut profile, it turned out, it was full of who's who of gay circuit in delhi, and there were great chances that people will start frequenting my profile for some snooping too. I had to delete him from my friend list because he had too many gay friends on orkut. Can life be more ironic? So he called me and asked why I had deleted him from my friend's list. Though the right reason was, I was miffed at him for not returning my calls, I gave him the aforementioned reason, which he told me had had already guessed, from my paranoia which he is quite aware of. There it goes, turns out, my old friend can indeed think, and he still cares for my friensdhip.

Perfect Imperfection

Women, they say, have always been intriguing to men; but why only men, they have fascinated other women too. I have often found myself amused by the thought of my choice- a trifle different- in women. The common theme running in my choice of women is the apparent flaw in their character, a flaw for which they are unapologetic-as if it is their right. May be I empathize too much with them, may be I rationalize my straying, uncanny behavior citing these women; but most important of all- I see these women as powerful, independent and having a mind of their own. It takes lot more than heightened sexual libido, or frustrated love life to be on the wrong side of morality fence, and despite realizing fully well that what They are doing these women never cease to be themselves. No explanations.

If someone has looked at my list of favorite movies, Blue Sky tops the list. Its not a path breaking film, but the character of Carly played to perfection by Jessica Lange- for which she won a second best actress Oscar-is so fascinating that it reminds me of my mother. A 'child woman ' who is trapped in the chores of domesticity, and finds her solace in things where normal married woman will fear to tread. The character is so strong at the same time flawed that we overlook her flaws , and empathize with her in her misadventures.

I love Grey's Anatomy and have followed it religiously over the years. There are enough hot men, McDreamy & McSteamy and McVet, to hold my attention but what has fascinated me most in this series is its women characters. Again, one will be spoiled for choice because you have exceptionally beautiful Catherine Heigl, exceptionally talented Sandra Oh and very loveble Sara Ramirez besides the central character of Ellen Pompeo ( of whom I am not particularly fond of). Of all these women in the series, I like the one who came as this Prada wearing super bitch to destroy the perfect relationship between the perfect lovers. Yea, Kate Walsh as Dr Addison Montgomery is the sort of women I will fall for any day; notwithstanding my sexual orientation which is prone to looking at women more of as competition than companions.

Now I can go on and on how Kate Walsh looks so fantastic and chic in her tall 5'10" frame with her red hair, but I am not going there. ( how many women in their 40s look so cool without trying to look young?) She cheated on her husband with his best friend. She lived in with the friend for months to realize where here true feelings lie. Her passive aggressive demeanor, her honesty with which she accepts her flaws of being an adulterous bitch and her rapprochement with her husband's ex makes her so appealing. Her character is not perfect, not some self sacrificing career woman who becomes subservient to wishes of others. She stands up for her convictions, not afraid to take the wrong step and go back after realizing her folly. So many of us hold onto a wrong decision, but only few who have the courage to accept their failure can even attempt to live with a clean conscience. So I wish I could get my Addison, strong, tough, sexy and fallible.

Why Do you blog??


I hate when I read my posts. They sound so trivial & flimsy, and I want to write stuff which is serious, interesting or funny. I would hate it if my blog is beginning to look like some kind of outlet for my frustrated gay sexual life. I am so much more than that. Aside from that, I am trying to get into the psyche of a regular blogger. This is especially applicable to those who write about their life, like what they did, where they hung out or who they slept with. I can understand why people write book reviews, or why Pratibha Patil should not be chosen President, or why this whole Taj Mahal and seven wonders is a conspiracy by telecom companies to earn more revenue. But what about the rest of our ilk, who write stuff centering about themselves. Why do these people blog? Why do they feel there are people interested to know where they bought their last Mango Dress from?

For me, as I have of late started blogging quite frequently, the reason would be my lack of audience for my histrionics. I am a drama queen, and some may even accuse me that I indulge in attention seeking behavior- -least of which would be finding some hot men to fulfill my fantasies--so I like somebody to be around me, to listen to my continual clamor and tell me how good I am at it. But sadly, life offers no such considerate and lovely friends for me. Every time I read how eM goes to party, or how CT finds his new hot date, I feel I am living through their experience. One might, at this point, feel that I am a complete moron who does not have any sense and lives his life vicariously through other's blogs; but dearies, I am a victim of my circumstances, stranded in a place where I have no option to make new friends or go back to the old ones which I have left behind. therefore, this is the best medium to express myself.

Now there are some inherent problems. Being a media man (sort of) interested in marketing strategy, I find it hard to position my blog correctly. I can't put into one format of blogging. Let's just say Its about me. About my quirks, my fantasies, my nightmares and my idiosyncrasies. Now for my next post, I am gonna write about a woman I admire. ( it's a character, basically). So you might ask how somebody like me fell in love with a woman. Watch for the next post.

Teach me the T's


What is wrong with me? I have been trying to do 'accents' since I started speaking, and mind you, I do them perfectly well when I am talking to myself.

Then what happens when I speak to my client, trying to show off my tongue twisting expertise with my hissing 'sss' sound after every line. It completely falls flat, and when I see that I am faltering I adopt a kedigree of accents in the same sentence, mortifying myself to the hilt. Then, I am asked to do the most embarrassing thing, in front of my team mates-people with their varied, mallu, tamil, marathi, hindi accents- to repeat myself slowly so that the firang can understand my 'Indian' accent .I can perfectly rattle of in smooth British BBC accent. ( Dear Readers, I don't work in a call center where they are taught all this stuff), I learned it on my own copying Judi Dench, Kate Winslet and watching re-runs of Coupling- my favorite TV series, as good as 'SATC'-and imagining myself on a ship with Leo Decaprio.

I am No-Saint

how does it feel to be completely lonely. When you have nobody to speak to, no body to share the comfort, warmth that one has created so meticulously. Why it is all there? Why can I not have friends? Why can't I have a good laugh. It's so eerie when you realize you are paying your vegetable vendor because he talks a lot. You listen and waft in the sounds of his idle chatter. Is this why I worked so hard to get to where I am, so that I will have absolutely nobody.

What do you do to fight your blues??

It's so strange. You wake up one morning, after a late night, when you wanted to sleep peacefully and longed to have a sound sleep. But the sleep is anything but sound. Lack of proper sleep is not why I am writing this. Right now, the only thought that comes to my mind is-Do all bloggers blog because they don't have anybody to listen to, or They feel strongly about letting the world know what is happening in their lives.

The point is, I woke up this morning, after a bad night sleep, to find that my life is zero. Zero is not the word I am looking for here. because zero cant replace the word , shunya, in hindi, which means absolute nothingness, emptiness. I am not one of those who feel like this every morning, but it is now happening at an alarming frequency. Usually, I would try to appease myself by indulging in one passion or the other such as clothes, books, salon, shoes, accessories and other assorted items. But, as I mentioned, in my last post, most of these have lost their meaning to me. It doesn't give any kick or excitement.

I had to find new ways to amuse myself, so on Tuesday night I headed to Peg' n 'Pints, the mecca of Delhi gay society. It was an audacious step, at least by my standards, Going there, all alone, and try to hit on people. But, I was not there to hit on people. I just wanted to have a good time. A couple of guys did show interest in me, while dancing, but their attempts at undressing me on the dance floor completely put me off. I know, these are desperate time, but can't people get that sex is not the last thing defining one's existence. Over all, I had done well, considering how shy I am, I managed to go there, without getting lost and without looking a shoulder to hang on to. The high point of the evening was when a twenty something, turned to me at the bar, when I was trying to get my fix of diet coke, that I look 'cute'. Now this boy was barely out of his teens and had an air of puppy like innocence. I was gob smacked. This was the first time somebody had used a pick up line on me, and I knew that I am everything but cute. Anyways, I returned his compliments with a shy smile full of glee, asking him whether he really meant it. And the cute kid replied in affirmative. It felt so good to be seen by somebody's eyes and being appreciated.

The Night ended as I had expected it to. I knew I was not there for some casual encounter, as now I seek mental stimulation as well, which going by the reports-padma lakshami has stopped giving to Salman Rushdie and they have filed for divorce-coupled with the sensory 'stimulation'.
So I danced my heart out, rubbed shoulders with Suneet Verma, who looked quite polished quite unlike the Nikhi of Shantanu & Nikhil, and Shivraj Prasad-the oh so cute boy from NDTV. ( BTW, When I was growing up in a small town in north India, I always had the inkling that he has to be gay, was pleasantly surprised to see the correctness of my 'gaydar')

When will I get over this?

Sitting here in my home office, after a very late night, when I woke up at sound of doorbell, in my half sleep I trudged ahead to open my door to see a weird expression on my Maid's face, I feel nothing today when she has gone. Its not as if she is not used to find me half asleep, completely numb or daydreaming; lazing around in my apartment, but today was the height of her bewilderment. I quickly checked myself to make sure I had my clothes on and fully zipped before even blurting out my instructions on the chores to be carried out for the day. She herself knew that there is not gonna be much work today as I have woken up late. And with my new found resolution of emaciating myself until I become an anorexic vixen, I am surely not gonna order a pile of food.

Anyways, enough about that. My present state of mind is completely devoid of nay colour I had never expected that a Social butterfly like me would loose all his color and become a boring/bitching/bemoaning/bellicose person. To kill my time ( I have loads of work but I am not in the mood to do it , right now), I am gonna subject you to my random wanderings. They might be/ have to be completely disjointed. So please don't try to make any sense of that.

Retail Therapy: I was always for the immediate and effective results of retail therapy to bounce back from any meltdown/mood swing or lack of sex. But, I guess, this too follows the law of diminishing returns-the efficacy of therapy reduces as the frequency increases-which I had read somewhere in my economics class. I have indulged in some big time retail therapy to get rid of my meltdown to no avail. I get more and more depressed looking at happy couples, strolling together, holding hands together, looking into each others eyes and cuddling in public display of affection ( which I certainly disprove of when the boy is hunk and gal is plain Jane). So, dear readers, I burned a hole in my packet because of a insensitive, prudish paramour

So close yet so far

This post is going
to be full of whining , so if you are
looking for some 'interesting', 'fun' bites.
Please , stop right here.
I am in a terrible mood
and I want to lash out
at every one for no reason.

Well, there is one reason.
I have been dumped.
That too, Dumped on phone.
One might ask how I
could have been dumped
when I was not in a relationship.
Well, I was this close,
and I emphasize,
this close( now gesturing through my hands )
to a real relationship.

We met the 'oh so cliched'
way through chat.
He sounded interesting
and we exchanged numbers.
Now, I do, once in a while,
give my numbers to perfect stranger;
wishing them to turn out to be my prince charming
-a guy with all the right attributes,
mental and 'ahem' physical.
So we started immediately
on phone 'exploring' each other.

And here I was talking
to an interesting guy,
who did not sound as if he is another clone of Karan Johar
( nothing against him but I like my man to be MAN),
not talking about shoes, bags, diets and facials.
Here was a man who asked me,
in the old fashioned way,
my choice in food, films and books.
But being so Samantha like,
How I could not have been
cocky and raunchy.

And believe me-
my readers ( Does any one ever read this? ) -
I would have acted differently,
had I known this guy is
straight out of Victorian era and so prudish.
He talked in his sexy drawl in monosyllables;
while I was doing my bit of 'Ally Mcbeal"
( I must stop watching re-run of that series,
I have this awful tendency to pick on people's traits)
babbling stuff which was completely unrelated,
as I was unduly excited
at having found the RIGHT guy.
He was his cool, sophisticated best,
occasionally interrupting me;
asking me about whether I was
bordering insanity or not.
But I tried to do an 'Ally Mvbeal'.
Saying the wrong thing at the wrong time
and expected him to find it cute
that I am falling for him,
so head over heels.

So we talked, talked and talked
and came to the conclusion
that our tastes are much alike.
We both are non drinker, non smoker
persons loving serious movies.
We like hanging out with friends
and so on and so forth.
I am still clueless
where did I go wrong.
Should I have not chanaged
from my 'loose tongue', 'weirdly logical'
cute smart Ally personality
to this modern age sex goddess,
who never has bad sex twice,
who is never apologetic about her desire for sex
and who is not ashamed of having it in plenty, Samantha.

Well, to quote my 'would have been future husband',
the coup the grace was
when I asked him two 'objectionable' questions.
One was about his sexual preference
and other one was something
so inconsequential that I don't remember.
I still can't figure out
What was so 'profane about it'?
And why did he continue chatting with me,
when he could have outrightly hung up his phone,
showing his displeasure
over my overenthusiastic imaginary fantasies
( Did I tell you my chat id is Crafted_for fantasies??).

He didn't do any of these.
He simply told me
he found me too salacious for his taste.
Imagine, a gay guy,
sexually 'very' experienced by his own admission
-where in the gay world
one can't proceed without knowing the stats and preference-
telling me he found me vulgar and cheap
or to quote him
' people incapable of being included in his circle of friends' .

I did feel bitter,
and let down by prince charming,
and I cried ( I don't remember the last time I cried over a guy, or over ANYTHING).

I am trying to forget him.
I am trying to erase
those conversation from my mind.
I am trying to be myself, sexy and bitch.
I am hopelessly trying to
spew out my venom so that
I once again become pure.
It's all going in vain.
I must curse him ,
some sort of black magic,
some VooDoo.
Now my only last world
to that gentleman out there is:
" To hell with you and your prudish sensibilities."