Cacophonic Clamor

Epiphany

2010-05-26T14:52:00.000+05:30

I have been away for a while. I didn't like it particularly much. In fact, I hated it.

I hate the fact that I am back in India in this sweltering heat. I hate the fact that I have lapsed into same mood swinging patterns. I hate the fact that I have gained whatever weight I had lost. I hate the fact that even after paying four hundred buck plus tip, the barber cut my hair too short which I had cultivated with so much effort, despite my clear cut instructions.

So you see, in simpler terms I am pissed off.

This is the time when I should have been spending my weekends in Paris. Or Nice. Or Rome, for that matter.

Khair, this might all be true when I travel to Europe next month.

So why was I away?

I was primarily away because of a sudden epiphany. I had realized that most of the people who blog ( closeted cases like me) are very miserable. They have no real friends, social circle or love interests to keep them busy elsewhere and so they turn here. They ( we) bitch. We sulk. We do everything in out power to be not happy. ( lot of assumptions and self projections there). I wanted to be different and break free from these types. Since, I am back here it means some ties are stronger than we think and we have to get back to them, even if we don't want to.

Regular readers of this blog might notice that introspection is an activity I indulge myself in quite often, which leads to a lot of psycho analytic babble and discovery. But this time, my findings were triggered my something different.

While I was away, in Europe, I got to meet a blogger. For real!I used to follow his blog as lot. Not just they are reflective but they are also full of juicy details about his seemingly rocking sex life. This person comes across as extremely intelligent, well read and slutty in his blog. He lives in a city where there is hardly any discrimination, rather it's considered to be one of the gay havens of the world. I was quite curious to see him going by his blog he seemed like Mr Perfect.

And I met him indeed. I don't like to get personal and give out details, but suffice is to say he was nothing like what he comes across in his blog. He was nervous, inarticulate and quite miserable. ( I am mean, I know) My point here is not to denigrate him but to bring out the fact that a lot of times we are not what we write on these pages. I am far from perfect, or even nice. I know my shortcomings more than anyone else can see, and I hate that. When I looked at him, with all his developed world gay insouciance, the freedom he has to live his life the way he want to, the works, I didn't envy him. My mind went back to his posts about his rambling in the park. Who goes to a park in that city?? There are multiple clubs, sauna, and internet sites than one can imagine. And you can pretty much do what you want to. Legally.

One has to be really old/ ugly or closeted to be in that park.

And he was not old or closeted.

What hope do people like me have in this country like India then?

Hello!! Knock Knock!

2010-03-15T04:57:00.001+05:30

One of the things that I promised myself at the beginning of this year was to be more consistent with my blogging. I had all the excuses in the world for being busy or not having a 'life' but seriously, none of them were true. One can write when one has to. You don't need any promises.

So here I am thinking that it better be late than never, and writing about something that has fascinated me a lot in the recent months.

No, it's not a guy.

Is it just me or all the gays find this whole law business intriguing and interesting. Truth be told, I have been a great fan of 'Boston Legal' and can never get enough of it, and 'Ally Mcbeal' was the first show I honed interpreting the american accent. So what was about this new show that has got me hooked?
"The Good Wife" is a misnomer, just like what series creators did with "Desperate Housewives". They deliver you something else when you least expect it. I will be bored to give you details here since that's what wikipedia does if you already don't know about the show. And if you have not watched the show, let me say you what you should know which is not on wiki. ( See how smart I am saving both of ours time)

The show is nothing like my other favorite show 'Boston Legal'. It's inspired by real life events with a twist and most court cases featured are not facile. Each episode requires constant attention to get full understanding of nuances and it's not all fun and games standing before a judge, having 'jibber jabber' like Alan Shore made us believe in Boston Legal.

It's a real joy to see Julianna Margullies as the protagonist in the series but the surprise package is Archie Panajbi playing the role of in house investigator Kalinda Sharma.

And boy, does she look hot??

I mean she is so hot that I can turn straight for her. But it's too bad she plays a Gay. Irony of sorts!
What really astounds me is the level of good writing that goes into this show. What we get to see in India is hundred of years behind. In fact, most of our movies don't have that kind of layered characterizations, and they feed us stereotypes after stereotypes based on their little understanding of places beyond glam parties.
Has anyone noticed that a lot of time the dialogues are literal translations of english cliches? The 'Karthik calling Karthik' dialogue where Farhan asks Depika if she would take advantage of him if he gets drunk. How lame is that??

How I turned straight and saved myself!!

2010-01-04T02:39:00.004+05:30

When I started this blog, I deliberately chose to avoid writing about my sex life ( or lack of it ). I fancied that writing about my sexual orientation would have been limiting myself to just that facet of my personality, which has a lot more rainbow colors than just pink. In my defense, I always perceived myself as a bit of intellectual. Someone who would want to discuss politics, world history, economics and languages. My interest in cooking, fashion and being 'fabulous' was more seen as an attempt to be a 'Renaissance man'.

So why am I writing this all?

Since I arrived in the dutch capital Amsterdam, there was a transformation in me. It convinced me I was not gay.

I wondered why I had the opposite reaction by not becoming 'gayer' while being in country where not just gay marriage are allowed and celebrated, it was a place where the term liberal got a new meaning. ( I recall having read somewhere that homosexuality was tolerated since late eighteen hundred in Netherlands and it's just not a recent phenomenon). I had all the time energy and money to 'whore' myself. There are gay clubs, bars and cruises of all kind catering to all tastes in abundance here. Initially, I was very excited to go and check out the 'scene' and I had also created a profile of myself with new location so dutch guys could reach me.

When I was in home (in India) and not working, I was glued to my laptop just like everyone else. However, what was worrysome that I spent 95% of time on internet on being online on chat and gay community websites. ( I don't mean porn here) I have almost chatted with everyone whoever logged on Delhi gay chat room in last three years. ( It didn't mean that I met them all) I was way too discerning and conscious of my self image. I still am. ( Once a fat kid, always a fat kid)

I always wondered what straight people did for hours on web. There is only so much you can play farmville or mafia wars or facebook. There is so much you can read in news. What did these guys do? I think now I will ask this question to my straight friends. So, coming back to my original schedule, I would spend all that time doing something that I didn't need/want or get.

In retrospect, it looks foolish that I squandered so much time where I could have done so much stuff, read so many books, learn so many new things. But as they say, things are always clear in hindsight.

I was running away from myself and my life.

A life which had seen turbulence so severe in those years, that i was in denial. I was in denial of what was wrong with me. There are things you could fix. But one needs to know what to fix.

I considered myself as some sort of hyper sexual person who can't get enough of it. I had to do it. I was in auto pilot mode in most of those time and it had become reflexive. I felt guilty that not only I am wasting time on something frivolous but I started seeing myself as a pervert. ( I had to compulsively label myself all the time, even now!)

So there I was spending endless hours, doing frivolous things which I thought I would continue to do with more vigor in the free sex land of Amsterdam, which seemed like a gay mecca ( Are we allowed to use religious terms with gay?)

In the early days, despite the work load etc, I would log on on my new profile and wait for people to 'reach' me. I used to get bored of this within five minutes of logging in ( notwithstanding the fact there were not many people 'reaching' out to me which was not quite unlike what I faced in Delhi).

So it was not about rejection or not being liked, I hypothesized. ( not many people like me anyway)

It had to be something else.

Ohh, it had to be the food. Anyone whoever has the faintest idea of power of spices would certainly agree that our food intake determines our proclivities and urges. ( says ayurveda). I was subsisting on cold food, mostly salad and dairy products which lacked the fire of a Rogan josh and butter chicken.

I nailed it. I felt so happy that I had got to the bottom of problem which is 'degaying' me.

I had to start eating my regular indian spicy food in order to be 'up' again.

That happened soon after when I moved to a serviced apartment with a kitchen where I could eat all the spices I craved.

But to my disappointment, my hypothesis didn't hold much water when it was subjected to real world.

I got worried. What if I become straight in the place which is supposed to be European gay capital? ( Actually it's Berlin I think, but- hey, It's almost as gay)

Khair, I thought these are all symptoms of a prolonged jet lag and since I didn't have any male steward in my flight, this might have been exacerbated by that fact, so why not go and check out all those 'happening' gay places?

I decided to go to a very popular sauna, where unlike Delhi gay parties where people strictly come to 'dance', here one can leave all pretenses and just do it then and there. (They have all the facilities like cabins etc). The sauna is opened day and night and is most crowded on Sunday afternoons. Therefore, armed with all this information, and a little trepidation I stepped in the building on a cold sunday afternoon thinking how I would hide the fat around my waist.

There were guys.

Many guys!

Guys of all ages, shapes, sizes, color and 'sizes'!!

Some were extremely goodlooking and I could almost imagine myself making homemade porn with them. ( Then I'd leak it like Paris Hilton, and become a world famous bitch).

But now comes the important part. Everyones was prowling in that place. No one would force you but in glance and nudge will be enough to get you some time alone with that guy. In my case, I planned to play it very cool and act as if I came here a thousand time.

Planning and execution are two different things. I was too shy and always attracted wrong kind of guys. ( Old/ Skinheads/ bears with huge piercings/ basically average or weird looking guys). The truth was none of those future pornstars in my home production were giving me any 'bhaav'.

It happens.!

Life is a bitch!!

My looks are not determined by me!!!

I rationalized and went about my business. So without giving any further details, let me say I didn't come home 'dry' that night.

But this whole trip made me very sad. I could see eighty year old trying to get an erection ( no exaggeration). More than seventy percent people there were over the age of fifty. I couldn't understand how these people living 'here' could be so desperate and miserable.

Now, I know free sex is not just a gay territory and straight people indulge in it as much as us. But one thing that kept cropping in my head was if these guys were not able to find someone and lead a 'normal' life, what hope was there for people like us. Do we have to fight all our lives and in the end get to the same stage where they are.

This put me off so much from the word 'gay' that I almost started imagining a parallel straight life. A life where things are simpler.

You fall in love. ( I don't know how that happens).

You get married. ( and feed 1000 people on that day you never wish to see again)

You have kids ( I am happy being uncle to my niece)

You have Teenage Kids ( is there anything worse than that?)

You Die. ( Leaving everything to those kids who don't like you in the first place)

I think this is how a perfect love story unfolds in a straight life.

Since, I was not getting attracted 'enough' to boys, I thought- why not turn straight and see the other side of the fence. I mean I like girls. But just not in that sense.

How long will it take me to 'degay' me since half the work has already been done with that sauna trip?

I think my denial phase has begun. I haven't turned straight yet. ( nor I think I will ever be)

But it's just a thought.

A very random beginning

2010-01-03T01:22:00.003+05:30

I am in denial. The last three months that I spent away from home has been my escape. Escape from myself and my memories.

Every night for last four years, when I picked up a book ( always fiction set in non-indian setting) it was an attempt to flee from what I faced every day. Bickering family, non-happening career, zero social life and non existent love life. It was comforting to know in those pages that there were far weightier issues than those present in my life. It had become a ritual and the only thought that used to come to me while drifting to sleeps were those characters, their lives and their problems. It was my comfort.

Since last three months, though I got a few books assiduously with me for my sleep, I haven't touched them. They were not required. In fact, I did not have to think of an imaginary world in order to get away from my present. I was living in it.

I did not have to run away.

Every morning when I would open my eyes half asleep, I would look around think about what I had to do for the day. I had perhaps imagined myself always like this since it does not feel unreal. Unreal it is. This is not my life. This is not me. Yet, I feel there is so much of me in the role I am playing now. Just like my past life was a dream, a bad dream.

But all good things must come to an end. These three months have been unreal. I escaped from myself which I think it did me a lot of good. I did not ruminate over my life and it's travails. I was damaged. It healed me.

Now, I am good to go forward.

or so I think!!

p.s. New years never make any difference to any one, so I will save you the obligatory wishes.

In which we resurface

2009-09-16T22:58:00.004+05:30

So I have been away. If I start giving reasons on why I was away, I would not have many. But the primary and most important reason has been my laidback attitude. When I am writing this post right now, I am thinking ( in the age old ways of psycho analyzing myself) what has changed that has made me write this post. Probably it’s the onset of autumn. There is slight dew in the air, days are brighter, sunlight is crispier and there is a strange sweet smell in the air. I wonder how these seasonal patterns correspond so well to hindi calendar. Tomorrow, I guess is the first nav-ratra ( going by the stall selling pooja samgri), and though I have no interest, inclination or belief in these things I feel nostalgic of the days when my mother would send me buy some last minute thing that she had forgotten.

Khair. Enough of reminiscence! I have cribbed a thousand times on how my life is so boring and uninteresting that I have nothing to write, that I feel guilty now that so many interesting things have happened recently and I have been darn lazy to write about any of them/

First things first. I got myself tested for HIV. My second time. It was something I had been planning, procrastinating and afraid to do for long for simple reasons. Every day, I would pass by this lab and stop and look at the sign board thinking wheather I would need a prescription to ask for the test, and what the people at the counter, the lab assistant who may take my blood sample will think. Will that make me look gay, or they will think I am a promiscuous bitch?

I am sure they have better things to worry about than these things when its their daily routine to come across jerks like me. So there I was, two weeks back at Lal path labs mustering all my courage. I asked the lady at the counter for a HIV/ ELISA test. ( I had got it done first when I found a hicky on my chest which looked a lot like what caposi sarcoma looked on Tom Hanks in Philadelfia.) The person who took my blood sample was as nonchalant as I expected him to be. Though I wanted to run away from there asap, he made me sit and hold the cotton on the point where sample was taken. And did it feel like eternity, sitting there surrounded by that eeky spirit and phenyl air?

I am sure most of you have seen the SATC episode where Samantha ( Btw, did any one check out the new movie’s pics? They all look fab.) gets her test done and she is anxious to get her results while waiting in the hospital lobby to be called any moment to get that counselling. Dr Lal labs saved me from that torture since they have online reports. I can’t begin to imagine to collect a test report finding oneself positive. With my heartbeats going up and staying there, I opened and found it was negative. It was negative. ( on second thoughts, I think if I was a better writer, I’d have begun with the suspense of the test and not broken out the news that it was negative in the first line itself. The way I see it, I too can do it. Just that I am lazy. J )

Hmm, the second thing. I finally met the designer and my notting hill moment did not just stay as an audio conversation. He was actually very nice and cordial and ~~horny~~ . I had already gotten over with the whole thing, so it came as a positive surprise. Peace.

Last month, I also decided that I needed to beautify myself so I invested in a chemical peel session. And I just looked like Samantha when she had got her peel done. ( for those who havn’t seen SATC, go watch it. You have no excuse). It was horrible. I had to be not only indoors but confined to my little apartment. I face resembled a desiccated currant, and no way I could have gone to work looking like that. ( yes, being a style icon does have its downsides). Thankfully, the swine flu scare was at its peak and I cleverly excused myself from going to work by telling people that I have Cold. Anyway, my ordeal lasted for one whole week and I could see a lot of suppressed smiles on my neighbors when I picked my morning newspaper ( only time I went out of home in 7 days). For those who are interested in knowing the results of the experiment can write to me, I will send them before, after and ‘in between’ pics.

P.S. I have been thinking of late why I chose 'TLOB' as my blog alias. I had finished reading the book when I started this blog. To rediscover my quirks, I went back to the book and fell in love with it. I will write a review soon, I think, at least, my alias deserves that,

The Monsoon Hungama

2009-07-27T18:59:00.005+05:30

It's finally raining here, and what do rains bring with them? Raincoats, umbrellas, chai pakoras, rainy day etc. But being a responsible adult I have gotten over most of these things except one. Yes, Discount sales. This is the time of the year when all the brands I have been eying for past summer season are available for some discount, provided there are some pieces still left in my size. ( Is this only me or does everyone feel that they never get the size of a particular outfit they desire most?)

Speaking of shopping, it always makes me feel good, however short natured my happiness may be post that binge. It's for nothing that they call it retail therapy. There is another thing that takes over me everytime I enter a mall. I feel like a man possesed. I feel like there is a greater calling for me there. I feel I am here for a mission and I have to salvage the earth from these hoardes of shoppers who have come to find precisely those same things which could make my life so better. I have to be quicker, faster and better in findings those items than these lesser mortals and save humanity. I try hard. I scan every one around. Every one else is suspicious of every one else's intention. We are all competing in the same pool, one better be. Resources are scarce, and there is too high a demand ( trust me, you will feel the same way when you see the que outside Benetton showroom in CP. And yes, the que was for billing ).

Well, you win some and you lose some. Not always I grab the best stuff. ( most of the times you can't really wear it till next season. So one has to be Patient.) But I do have reputation for haveing the eye for the best stuff. Stuff which people overlook. Stuff I know will look on a a body than a clothes rack.

So, this year, or rather this sales season, I am holding myself a bit. Reason is the great economic situation. I had a negligible salary raise which can't even compesate for the inflation, let alone for my fashion needs.

But I am happy. There is always a next sale season to stuff on the gooddies.

2009-07-22T15:55:00.002+05:30

hmm...I am sleepy and tired

Yes, that's what you do when you surf till late night and wait for things to happen to you. On top of it, when I woke up this morning, picking up my daily dose of newspaper I saw the headline say " Did you see the longest solar eclipse of the centuary?". Ahh, now they are making us feel guilty for sleeping late. Or rather waking late.

I can be least bothered. I am not gonna give any 'daan' becuase of the eclipse, that's so Pagan. I wish we indians had some more objectivity and we could start questioning the expected beliefs. And I bet any one who has experienced the nuisance caused by 'Kaanwariyas' will surely be put off by this brand of religion.

Now, this reminds me to declare that I am not religious at all. I am not proud of it, nor I am concerned. It's something fact of the matter. Chris: if you read this, I'd like to know what you think. Btw, I know that you sleep with your Blue book beside your bed table.

In which I get really Happy Happy

2009-07-01T15:13:00.002+05:30

So it has finally rained in Delhi. Like I once prophesized, my mood is closely linked to Delhi Weather, and it was getting fouler by each passing day. The only reason kept me going to workplace was excellent cooling they provided in the premises, and the power cuts at home. Yes, all the reports of power cuts that you see on TV are not, for once, fabricated. ( Most of the time, all the nuisance makers start pelting stones etc on their object of scorn- Police station, Power station, Buses – only when they see a TV camera close by). Coming back to all things cool, it has become much cooler and humid. I don’t mind humidity as much as that searing heat which has tanned me in not a good way. I am thinking of de-tanning solutions. Any suggestions?

Since I last blogged almost a month back there is so much to post.

But before that let me just announce to the world that I feel happy.

Happy and content after a long time. And it’s just not the rains that have made me happy.

I like things sorted out. All the rationales, explanations each neatly applied into their right respective problem areas. I get my answers mostly from what I read, what I observe, who I meet etc.

This time I know there have been lots of triggers but it’s mostly the realization of how good life has been, or rather there are far more positives in life than negatives in my life.

Like I mentioned before, I have taken reading Marian Keys with a vengeance. I am on my second book ‘Last Chance Saloon’, though this is one guilty read, I enjoy her enormously. The book deals with friendships, love and cancer. Yes, chick lit is the least place one would expect Cancer to be written about.

I have never written about it earlier but reading about the disease and the various tests, chemo, radiotherapy affected me deeply since I have had a close encounter with the ghastly disease myself.

Three years back my mother succumbed to the disease. It was not the best time for any of us in our family. I know how it sounds when you say it was not best, but cancer was not the only thing that was going against our family. In the book, when I read about how the patient goes for bone marrow test, and how actually despite being given local anesthetic the needle has to prick the actual bone marrow which can’t be numbed for the sample. I remembered the day my mother went into that tiny room after a wait of two hours in the intolerable heat of that dingy hospital. She never told us back how painful it was. At that time, our only concern was to pray for test results to come negative.

But do things ever turn out the way we want? We got the bad news soon that cancer had spread to bone marrow too. In other words, she was on the last stage of cancer.

Before all this happened, cancer was a deadly word. It was something that happened to others. Something that only a few really unfortunate ones get. As is the human tendency, our first response was “why me?”.

Our visits to the hospital answered that question. There were young three year olds kids being treated for cancer and one has to have some nerves to speak to his mother asking his conditions.

There was a pretty young teenager girl who was not just tonsured because of chemo she had stitches on her head. Yes, her brain was operated for removing tumors.

While, we were not actually very lucky either.

There were many rounds of chemotherapy. Her low hemoglobin level before each chemo session required us to find blood donors for every round, and soon we exhausted our friends and acquaintances as potential blood donors because you need three months break before you can donate blood again. We got friends of friends and people who just heard about it and came to donate the blood in the hospital.

Before one session, her blood platelets count dropped abysmally low. If I remember correctly, 5-6 blood samples would make up for one platelet bag. I was too busy arranging for blood that I never had time to mourn her disease.

As I am writing these, I am reliving those horrors. I had read one of tendulkar’s interviews where he said a visit to a cancer ward in a hospital gave him new perspective on life.

My perspective changing moment came too. Perhaps all too soon.

I still remember the deafening cries at the time of one of our earlier chemo sessions when a patient died in the next room. Though, the wife was crying at least hundred meters away from our ward, there was nothing else you could hear in that ward. All other patients and their families had a look which spelt despair and death. Though we all knew that anyone among our loved ones can be the next one to go, we tried hard to look normal. I smiled and tried some normal banter to make it look like an ordinary thing, but I knew in my heart that it was our worst fears coming true.

There were so many moments when I actually thought if it was happening to me. One thing, I took from that experience and which I had forgotten about was the fact that “ why make all the fuss”. I know it’s a very fatalistic approach but perhaps I don’t push myself that hard for things which I know are very trivial when you compare them to cancer.

What if I don’t conoodle with my boss and impress him so he gives a big raise and sends me to an exotic locale for work (Yes, that happens in our company for some ‘lucky’ people). I don’t try that hard. I do my work and let my work speak.

I may not be going to Colombia (despite learning Spanish) or Greece, I have a well paying job. I am quite healthy, though I still have some way before I can de-lard myself completely; people still compliment me on my physique ( in a non sexual way)

I may not be the most intelligent guy on planet, but my colleagues respect me for my knowledge and opinion, and frankly I am trying to give a damn to what people think of me.

I mean if I start counting the things which are in my favor, they will far outnumber my whining list. So I have decided to do one thing. Throw that list to some corner of my head and tell everyone that life is really good.

My Notting Hill moment

2009-06-02T22:07:00.001+05:30

My last post was going nowhere. It was erratic, incoherent and befuddled. I think I had not even read it before publishing ( small mercies that push button publishing offers you); but in retrospect I think it was something I had to do. Something that I had to get out of my system so that I could live peacefully. Since, I still have not told the name of the person to anyone except for my ex-best friend, I carry a huge baggage. It’s not everyday that I have news of me dating a bigshot

Let’s rewind to a month back.

In the tradition of TV news channel who are hell bent on recapitulating news breaking stories, let me tell all those readers who have tuned in to this post now.

Recap: I had a chance encounter with a very big name in Indian fashion scene. That encounter which started on virtual world transitioned to audio world ( read: phone) and I felt ecstatic to say the least. Here I am- someone who was ( still is ) afraid of getting old alone, who is surly and bad tempered because he doesn’t find people who are capable of matching anything other than body stats—sitting and idling time since he has nothing better to do on weekends and he gets approached by someone who is not only rich, famous, young, good looking but most importantly intelligent.

How often does that happen? ( Twice in my case. I was ostensibly proffered by a Grasim Mr India who really got into me after a converation, but since I could never verify if he was the person he claimed to be, I made little fuss about it and moved on. May be I should post about it too)

I have already written in my last post that how this person messaged me, called me at odd hours and we really connected on phone.

I had no doubt if he was the real one. He was the real one. I asked him a few question too from what I read from delhi times etc, and he was quite surprised that I tracked such info.

He told me about his business plans as to how he wanted to set up a fashion empire on the lines of western fashion houses and even asked me if I would like to work for him. I was completely taken away by his business proposal. No doubt this guy is going to make it big. He is a force to recon with in Indian fashion and according to media reports he also has good business acumen. It was too good an offer to be refused. I being my usual cynical self played it down focusing on the lesser more baser aspects of life.

Though, after that conversation I did all the research and envisaged myself doing something which I always secretly wanted to do. (People who might get carried away at this moment thinking of me as some fashion queen must be told that I had such weird career aspirations since I was a kid. I still want to be Foreign Service officer, a chef, a journalist, a published author, not to mention, being connected to glamorous industry was also on top of that list.)

But I was in for a shock.

Suddenly there were no messages, there were no calls. And he got completely inaccessible. He never picked his phone though all my messages got duly received.

To put it mildly, I was heartbroken. It was not just any other fling that I had. There are times when you feel there is something great destiny has in store for you and your moment will come. Being a complete cynic, I still have that six year old girl like streak in me who feels that everything is going to be alright at the end. We all feel special. We all feel—at least at some point in time, that life has not been fair to us, that we deserve better. We rationalize, we give examples other people who are far less talented or hardworking but who have made big in life; and we make a list of things that could have been better in our life. If only so…

Despite all this optimism, we chug along the dreary life hoping that our moment is coming. We will have our place on this earth; we will mean something to someone. We will not be just another number in billon other people.

I saw this encounter as my moment. This was my chance to redeem my lost pride which I had for myself.

But what all we wish for does not materialize too often.

It feels bad if one never gets that feeling that one is going to get one’s chance, one’s life changing moment, and one’s ticket to redeem one’s destiny.

But it’s far worse feeling when you realize that you had your chance, you had a life changing moment and your ticket to destiny was not for real.

I have been having existential crisis sort of thing for a long time now; but somehow I made peace with myself. Telling myself that life is too long, and I will have my moment when the right times come. But this incident left me questioning those beliefs again.

What is it from life that I am seeking?There is nothing permanent in this world. Fame, money, power or beauty: These all entrapments.

What if I have this person rolling at my feet in love, what will that accomplish?

Why am I so disturbed?

Why I felt cheated? He never said he loved me or I would be his new boy friend.

What am I in this world for?

Am I here for falling in love, making money, making love and then dying?

I asked these questions again and again. I couldn’t eat, sleep or concentrate on work. I didn’t get any answers. I felt perhaps we make too much of these small incidents in life.

This fellow—however rich, famous, intelligent he may be-- called a random guy and had fun chat for a brief period. I should have been smart enough to understand it. Though, it doesn’t happen very often in life. But it does happen.

Big Deal??

Khair, if you are still reading now, you must got an impression that I am over it.

On a different note, I caught ‘Notting Hill’ a few nights back on cable. Even the die hard cynics of this world would not be failed to be charmed by this movie. Whatever is happening in the movie: It’s all unbelievable; and that perhaps makes it more believable. We want to believe in goodness of Julia Roeberts and charming goofiness of Hugh Grant. We believe in the movie by the end of the movie.

“It was nice meeting you. Surreal but nice” Hugh Grant’s character tells Julia Roberts’s character after their first meeting.

Immediately, I could see the parallel between the film and my story.

I felt exactly the same. Surreal but nice.

The bitterness that I had accumulated over the fortnight had dissipated. Not many people get the chance to even have their ‘surreal but nice’ moment. Life is too long, may be I will have many more such moments. And even if I don’t have those moments. I will have many other ways to make my life complete.

It’s not end of my life.

P.S. It turned out that my friend is globe trotting to meet buyers and stuff, which he explained me a few days back when he called, and was not able to return calls because he was either too busy or tired. So, all said and done, we are still in touch, though I have given up any hopes of leaving my well paying and secure job to join his fashion house.

It's totally Random

2009-05-25T19:54:00.003+05:30

Though, I had gone through the existential crisis a few years back, I had not imagined that it would come to haunt me again and I will be caught unawares. Afterall, I was sad, lonely and depressed. How worse it could have got?

Worse it did get.

A few weeks back, I received a message, on one of the social networking site I am present, from a person whose picture looked all too familiar. Fake pics are in no shortage on such sites. Everyone knows how an Indian girl conned a dutch man making him believe she was Aishwarya Roy.

Networking sites, such as the one I was present on has a few popular choices. The message I got had none of the usual suspects. The pic- instantly identifiable by any one who follows the Indian fashion industry even remotely-- had me taken completly by surprise. I hardly have the looks to receive messages from decent looking men, let alone this man. Therefore, I decided this is a fake pic and needs to go to deleted messages. Boredom and curiosity got better of me after I deliberated on it and sent a reply hoping against hope I will receive any reply.

A week later, I get a sms on my phone saying that it was HIM. ( Yes, I sent him my number, I am that desperate. Get over it!) I am all too excited to find that not only is he replying back but he is also real. Real? Do I actually know for sure he is for real, not some fake guy like ipl player. Being the pathological cynic, I demand to speak to him and he smses back saying he is in a meeting.

Ahh, I thought I had caught him.

After an hour, I got a call. The voice was all too familiar, it cannot not be him. I am very good with voices and was sure about him. We chatted briefly and I couldn’t contain my excitement.

From then one, we regularly started messaging each other and talking whenever HE got time ( He is the busy guy, not me).

He had asked me to send him my clear pics, which I did. And suddenly the messages stopped coming.

Hehe.

Big Deal?

Before I go any further, let me write something about the mystery man. Though, it will not be ethical to reveal his name, I can give some general hints.

He is a fashion designer who has made a name for himself in India and abroad within a very short span. He is Young – important for me coz I don’t date above a certain age when I told this to my ex best friend he thought I was referring to Vijay Arora—intelligent, well read with a middle class background.

He offered me a job on our very first call. He asked me to become his business advisor since I was the MBA type who knew his finance and fashion. Though, I didn’t commit anything to him as I was overwhelmed by the fact that I was speaking to this GUY, I was secretly hoping that perhaps this was the chance I could switch career

He was the Indian YSL and I was his business partner.

The fantasy was too short lived.

There is more to it, will write in the part ii

Birthday Blues

2009-05-19T00:20:00.006+05:30

There is a lot happening in my life.

But still I feel my life is one of the most boring, staid and placid movies that one can make out of a real life. Last week I turned little closer to thirty. Though, just like the women in SATC, I have promised myself that I would stop aging beyond 29 and will be 30 for some ten years, the reality of having to confront another lonely birthday hit me hard.

I spent the day like any other regular day doing chores such as going to office ( I didn’t put much effort in selecting the clothes, which on hindsight I should have ), coming back from office ( I wonder what fine day it will be when I go straight partying from office, or err…do I have to keep a spare pair of clothes for that? Which will be such a nuisance) and doing my laundry – the third item must sound as if I am some kind of clothes fiend, but actually I am. Remember the best dressed person thing??

Some of my colleague got to know that I turned a year older despite my best efforts at keeping it a secret ( I had done it for last two years on orkut). Damn facebook was the place which I had not figured out much, and it gave away precious information. In fact, one of my blog reader --shall I say my only reader?- also ‘located’ me on facebook which is totally ok with me.

So, those office folks got a cake and asked me to cut it. I might not have written this before but Cakes and I go long way back. In fact, despite being born and brought in 'bhaiyaa land' my craving my ‘english’ style cake pastry had seen no end. Slowly, I got curious to know as how one can make these at home and after almost hundreds of failed expreiments of gooey, half cooked, burnt cakes which were subjected to my class mates, my maids, pets etc I cracked the formula of making a decent ( read: edible) cake.

Being a true taurian ( read: stubborn ), I never give up something until I get what I want, and then give it up unceremoniously without any remorse to all those people who suffered because they ate what I gave then disguised as cake. One of my polite neighbors told me after eating my caked that eating these biscuits cum cake is really a good exercise for his gums ( He so wanted to give the brick analogy, I could see from his expression).

So, though I digressed, I wanted to make a point that I can bake perfectly turned out cakes --which I would have done every day had it not been for my fetish for my weight—and no body gets surprised there. Imagine eating a decent cake after you have eaten scores of burnt ones.

On one of those nights, when I have really nothing to do and I am too tired of watching DVDs, looking for dates, soliciting for dates, executing solo dates with myself; I run to the kitchen and see if I have the ingridients to make a cake. And thus I bake a cake. Since, I can’t eat my cake alone I often bring it to office and tell people that my maid has made it ( alliteration, ye) even my colleagues have got used to this idea that I am a cake junkie. ( Don’t ask my BMI number now).

Therefore, the first thing that they asked me after they got to know it was my birthday “Have you brought cake?”.

“I am not desperate enough to bake a cake for myself “, I muttered slowly.

“Never mind, we look forward to your next offering any way”, chorused my entire cubicle.

‘Ha ha ha” , I gave their my lame laugh which I do when I get embarrassed/ nervous/ or shy.

All the wishes and hugging ( actually no one hugged me, except for one. How boring?) , a chocolate cake was produced by lunch time for me and I lost my nerves. Remember cakes and I go long way back. The truth is much as I want to be the centre of attraction, if and when it happens I totally chicken out.

I was mortified to find that I have to cut the cake and get my pics clicked ( remember my phobia with images)

As the order of things are, I got my chocolate facial in due time—just seconds after I had taken the first bite. And they even rubbed it on my chest ( I know it was some perv who just wanted to feel me: disgusting).

Khair, I have given much time to write a trivial event in my life whereas all I wanted to write how it triggered a melancholic wave.

I will post that soon.

P.S. I am reading chick lit these days --which I have always frowned upon, but somehow I chanced upon a used book and the writer kept me hooked – and that explains why I start trying to be funny everytime I want to write something serious. Marian Keys is infectious and way better than Indian wannabes like Reddy Madhvan etc.

Literary Dreams: How literal are they?

2009-05-14T00:20:00.002+05:30

There is a reason I don’t blog much.

And it’s not about me being lazy which you would have thought—which, on second thoughts is a good reason—but since I consider myself pseudo intellectual the reason I have is more profound one.

I think mostly what I write is crap.

When I read other blogs, I just find my writing and myself so inadequate.

My writing which gets influenced by who I am reading at that moment flip-flops between styles. I mean I know fully well that I am not Zadie Smith or Atwood or Arundhati Roy, and can never be but there is a constant struggle within me to write something which I would feel proud later on.

And, for the record, there are things that I am proud of.

Now, the previous line was added as an afterthought, when I had written the entire post just to make it funny. But I find, this line looks very forced and artificial. Probably, I am not funny in real life. My humor gets restricted to sexual innuendos and a few one liners from American sitcoms. Yes, no jibber jabber here!.

It’s weird but in dreams I compose passages which are almost like the styles of writers I mentioned before. I don’t speak English much in real life ( meaning I don’t think in English), I learnt english very late and started reading english texts much later in my life therefore it’s a mystery as to how those words which I see myself writing so clear.

There is nothing vague about the whole experience since it happens very frequently especially if I have read anything by writers I liked, before sleeping.

Since I have already mentioned, my favorite hobby is people analysis; and for lack of many real people in my life, I practice that a lot on myself.

I have an explanation for everything.

Every tiniest action that I take.

I see this whole writing in dreams as a portent of something similar that used to happen a few years ago.

Circa year 2000, I enrolled myself in one of those English speaking courses. (Embarrassing though it may sound, it was the only option for me since it was near impossible to find and convince someone to speak with me in queen’s language in my town). The institute forbade people from using any other language except English in premises which created quite funny situations which I think I should devote a separate post later. But the interesting thing in those days was when I started dreaming that I was having an actual conversation ( without faltering, stuttering or even worse mispronouncing words) before I could have a actual decent conversation one in real life.

Taking a cue from this, I am hopeful that I might write better in future and stop having writers dreams.

If you haven’t got it yet, I have stopped having dreams where I have conversation without faltering, stuttering or mispronouncing words. I have those conversations in real life and people inevitably ask me if I am a product of one of the most famous schools in the town I short lived before moving to Delhi. ( I secretly smile )

As an aside, I saw once an interview of a little known writer who when asked how one wrote good prose responded by saying that in order to write well, one needed to read well first. Those words got entrenched in my mind and I was determined to read as much as possible. I feel that I have made up for those years when I had little access to quality books in last few years since I have become financially independent and moved to a bigger city. However, there is a still a sense that I am not as articulate, expressive or funny as I should be.

There is something else which I read somewhere to the effect that every blogger secretly wants to write a book. This may be true for me and many others. Because notwithstanding the fact how boring life I lead, there is a book in everyone’s life. They all want to be published.

Before I end this, I have a question. Do you think about the writing process, style, humor etc while you are writing or it just comes naturally? And do you want to be published?

I do but only when I have a little better craft.

Boy's don't cry!

2009-04-29T23:09:00.002+05:30

For those of you read my last post—yes, I am referring to USP and Ramby—and didn’t get it, the guy in the second incident was me. I tried to distance myself from that incident and didn’t want to come across as sentimental hob. However, I thought I must confront it and accept who I am the way I am.

It turns out that I can cry at the drop of a hat. Well, it was not like this earlier when I used to cry only over issues of global importance such as pimple breakout, my ever increasing waistline or every time I saw food I didn’t like. I have a confession to make since I am already spilling beans on my personal stuff. I hate to look myself in the mirror. Unlike most of the guys who don’t leave any chance to run through their hand in their hair, puff their chest or adjust their crotch the moment they encounter any reflecting object, I would deliberatley duck away from such devices in those frightiening moments.

No prizes for guessing that I would always find fault with something in my body: The surprising thing was that the body part will never remain same. One day I find to my horror that I have a very big nose ( still smaller than Shahrukh’s) and other day it would be my ears ( still smaller than Amir) and on other days I will start looking with quizzical expression as to what was wrong with my ears, nose ,lips...Hope you get the drift. This shame/ guilt/ anger would last forever and no amount of increased frequency of operation "mirror watch" would make me get used to my own self.

I mean isn't it the case that if we something long enough we don't notice the obvious flaws.

Case in point is Dev Patel-- with his perennial goofy expression and lanky body, I don’t know what Freida saw in her, and what I think of Freida’s beauty is very different-- who I have got used to seeing if I can use the expression and find him 'tolerable'.

Coming to my original confession, I don’t like to face mirror –and yes, I hate cameras too, if that was not obvious yet—however, and this is where the big surprise is: I look into the mirror every time I cry.

I don’t know why I do it, but let me tell you I don’t do it to check how horrible I look.

Do I look to check if I look better ( I am so bored with using ‘look’ so many times, how vain can I get? ) with all those tears, bleary eyes and a running nose.

Yes, I believe so. How many people can seriously look brilliant while crying? I think I can. With my eyes welled up, ears getting a crimson hue and the lone tear falling on my cheeks, I find it so..so...so not me. I kind of feel I am looking at a different person who I don't know. Who is smarter, better looking, more humane and vulnerable.

P.S. I guess this is one of the most weird post which I have written ever. But I can't help it if things are turning weird for me-- which I will post sometime soon. Now, I am gonna make a mean biryani ( there was a Hailstorm in Delhi, and it's so much cooler now) and eat it.

Signal Madness

2009-04-20T17:55:00.000+05:30

Scene1 : Traffic Light, Outer Circle Connaught Place

A thirteen fourteen year old school kid wearing clean white uniform, his school bag on his shoulders knocks on the window of a car. The car is a white Audi A4 costing 30 lac upwards. The kid has some long, thick pencils in his hands which he is trying to sell for some school project. He speaks to the lady sitting next to the driver. The lady shows some interest. Traffic light turns green. Everyone starts honking behind ( No surprises, this is Delhi). The lady takes out 5 rupee coin ( my guess, but I am sure it must have been 2 rupee) and gives it to the kid. The kid looks disgusted. Some more honking from the desperate drivers. Seems, she does not want pencils. He throws the coin through the window slit and moves back.

Scene 2: The next traffic light, Connaught Place

Red Traffic light. A middle aged guy carrying a four- five year girl knocks on a car window. The girl is allegedly sick. Her face is covered with a coarse cloth trying to shield her from harsh sun. One of the most common method of begging. The guy in the car doesn’t pay heed. He looks away. Suddenly, from some where the mother of girl emerges. Desperate, disheveled and angry. She has a bright face with big eyes accentuated by her olive complexion. The father knocks on the window showing a government hospital prescription and shrieks” Bheekh nahi maang raha hoon main”. The guy in car looks other way. He dithers, then looks for his wallet. He could only find a 100 rupee note in his wallet. He gives it and speeds away. Crying. Crying inconsolably.

Recession Woes

2009-03-30T23:43:00.003+05:30

Economic recession is here. As if I didn't know the fact, it was all too obvious. The place where I work has not strated to lay off people. Yet. That is in India of course. Globally, it's a different story.

We all keep hearing about rumors how other companies are firing people left, right and center and it can be our turn any other day.

I never believed in these doomsdays theories. And I have got enough problems of my own, than to think about when my job is going to go. ( As an afterthought, I don't know how I will continue my retail therapy if things go wrong). But, this is not what I chose to blog about.

As I said, this recession thing has put lot of people out of job but the place where I work, it has made people out of work. Now, if you have bunch of young, smart, intelligent people around who don't have much to do than to spend their entire time either on Facebook or blogsites, what you'd propose to do?

You'd ask them to indulge in mindless activities such as organizing events to get all employess together and spend time with each other. Never mind if you don't want to stand the guy who chats as if he is long lost sibling of Rakhi Sawant or the lady who thinks just because she is punjabi, she can foul mouth anyone. Ah, if these were the problems that really mattered to me.

Some bright chap gave the idea that why not have a poll asking employees some random questions. Most of them very boring and tepid according to my taste. Sample this: Who is the most helpful person? Seriously?? I mean give me a break. Are we here in a personality contest??

Whatever. So while I was completely disinterested in the whole proceedings, a little birdy told me that I was also one of the contenders. The category, though certainly flattering, had me in worry. Was it too obvious??

Best dressed person? I mean who are we kidding here? Like I mentioned that there are a couple of guys who have six packs amply supported by their punju model looks, who dress more expensively ( like Shades costing 15 K) this win was a total surprise to me. Curious I was, as to find out how I beat these people to win the race, and the answer was not difficult and I was told it was my style which won over the expensive brands. haha. Don't I feel good? Yes, I do. I dress quite conservatively opting for very fitted, formal look without giving too much attention to what I am gonna wear next day. But I guess somethings like your style are innate ( reading cosmo, or sartorialist.com always helps), I have a thing for good things not necessarily expensive ( which I'd love to buy if I was that rich) and it sometimes shows. And yes, if you think it's about being gay. So be it. I would prefer being called a stylish person. Straight or gay!

Wrong Number, Madam!

2008-12-29T00:21:00.002+05:30

Ok. Here comes the ceremonious year end post. On second thoughts, I am not good at lists of any kind. So why do things that I am not good at.

Besides, the year is three days away from close/end. (I don’t know the right word and I am too indifferent to check) and there are still possibilities that it could turn out eventful. Now, by eventful I would mean a year where I was not living like a nun in the second half. Speaking of nuns makes me remind the famous line in the movie ‘Milk’ which I caught last night. A little digression here, I recommend watching ‘Milk’ by every fag or non fag. For those of us, who still live in a false dreams of utopia in US / Western Countries this movie is a stark reminder. So what if the events depicted in movie took place some thirty years ago. Until we have people like Sarah Palin and her closeted republican cronies along with the sitting pope, on grounds things are not very different for us; and we certainly don’t need to be reminded constantly what’s ‘god’s way’. Anyway, the point is Sean Penn is excellent playing ‘Harvey Milk’ in this biopic and is strong contender for academy awards this year. He plays the role with unassuming ease and affability and I was disheartened to see, despite my thinking that we are all unique and blah, there were some very apparent resemblance to the body language and expressions of gay people in the movie that I saw in some of the people I met here in India.

Enough of the rant, I have almost forgotten what I wanted to post here.

Actually, I have not. Because it is something that gives me a ‘feel good’ feeling (speaking in my silly punjabi ‘Surinder Sahni’ish goofy smugness). So, without much ado, at the risk of sounding a braggart, let me share with you that I feel there have been three ‘girls’ who have given me some signal that they are interested in me. And all this at my workplace. Like most of gay guys, I am at ease interacting with female species ( it takes tons of efforts on my part not to give them some fashion advice) talking nineteen to dozen. I often play dumb in situations when discussion around relationships and such stuff takes place around me, even though I pretty much know what is the subtext and undercurrent of conversations, shifting glances, twitching of lips. Playing dumb is my favorite technique, it puts people offguard and at ease, without having to calculate their actions and I love it when I see it all unfolding in front of me.

Out of three ‘girls’ ( why does it have to be girls? ), there is one who is particularly interesting. She is smart, intelligent, witty and funny. She and I both know that we both know we feel ‘drawn’ ( me asexually, of course J ) towards each other. For me, I always love intelligent company and any wittiness is always an added bonus. She is both.

Looks wise, I hardly care. However, to be fair on whoever reads this, she is not that ugly (read: petite), has style (can do with bit more make up) and looks clean ( That reminds me she doesn’t wear perfume, She Should. Not that she smells, just that it adds to the personality of a person). I would have dated her/ asked her out if only…

However, I haven’t added that I do borderline flirting. I have always done that with my female friends and they always played along. Why I do it is a mystery to me since I have not been able to ‘flirt’ with a single ‘male’ friend of mine.

Now, let me ask you this. What do you guys do when you get such ‘vibes’? Do you play or back out?

Alpha version of myself

2008-12-09T17:24:00.002+05:30

I watch TV soaps for inspiration. That perhaps sounds pathetic. Perhaps, when you get totally bore, or totally insane, you start looking for meaning in everything inane ( was there some alliteration?)

I find legal dramas very engaging. And once you have some bit of comedy thrown in, and turned it into a 'Dramady', it becomes my favorite genre. It does not have the usual chest beating sermonizing, instead there are moments when you discover there are small moments, moments that you and I live every second, turned into something dramatic yet subtle which lie buried under mundaneness of life.

In one of these fits of self discovery, I finally saw something that reinforced my belief that "We are different versions of ourselves at different times". Does that sound arcane? Let me elaborate.

I am a kind person. I like helping people, something that I do without any expectation. But there are moments when I don't feel like helping ( very few, trust me). How do I stop feeling miserable and 'bitch' when I don't help someone, and I know if I help I will not get over the fact that I can't be myself.

Now, this new theory puts everything in perspective. I can be cranky at times without having to feel I am a bad person. and in case, you are wondering where I saw that line, It was 'Boston Legal". And if you wondering about why the post is titled so, any software released for the first time which would have 'bugs' and 'errors' is called alpha version. The problem free ( that's what they claim) comes later and is called 'Beta' Version

Why not 'sab chalta' hai

2008-12-04T00:51:00.001+05:30

The recent horror that Mumbai and entire country saw unfolding on relentlessly insensitive media has left everyone shocked, dismayed, angry and what not. I knew media was going to abuse the ‘Mumbai Spirit’ term again without realizing there were people who had to move on with their lives. As I watched victims, who were holed up in Taj and Oberoi, I saw two different patterns emerging. People who were either too numb or ‘chalta hai’ types. One guy, hardly nineteen-twenty, who was there at one of the hotels at a wedding party as a videographer was back in business next day, all cheerful and smiling, since he had already had bookings in advance. Another guy, slightly older but still very young around twenty five, apparently from upper middle class was very emotional and furious in the TV interview. He complained that he was not able to sleep properly and he could not shake his mind of these attacks even for a minute. What set my mind thinking was whether people who fight everyday for their survival are better equipped to deal with this crisis, or they simply let their wounds fester in the cloak of life’s compulsion which everyone calls ‘spirit’. Whether these festering wounds become breeding ground for communal violence and hatred that we often get to see running amok on our streets or it’s just that people who generally think they are safe and secured, when come across such mishap get scarred more easily.

Does SAD make me sad?

2008-11-24T12:39:00.001+05:30

I always wanted to write like the stuff I read which is mainly 'Literary Fiction'. In the last one month, I must have bought more than ten books and started reading them only to leave them after a few pages. Nothing caught my fancy, nothing held my imagination, nothing was reminiscent of anything I could relate to. It was not if the books I picked were not interesting. in fact, when I read some of them later, I was appalled by my own poor taste for leaving such gems as 'On Beauty' and 'Darkmans' which I discovered later. I sometimes wonder whether I too, like women, experience some kind of PMS. Being an internet junkie that I am, coupled with a little bit of arm chair psychology thrown in, I did some research and found out some symptoms.

Now, Chrisan being the resident therapist here would definitely have something to say about my observations.Based on the frequency and the timing of my behavior, I found out that this has been classified as SAD. ( how appropriate that is! ) Seasonal Affective Disorder.

For last two years, I have been living in an apartment on seventh floor of a building which gets very little sunlight and air. Add to that my schedule of working from home which required me to wake up at 9:30 and start work from 10. Work usually stretched till 6:30 -7 PM in the evening by the time it'd get completely dark.Occasionally I would step out to buy some stuff ( primarily to eat) and this whole routine was same for five days of the week except for weekends which I spent trying different things hoping to break monotony. A bickering family, and friendless existence did not help much in either case.

This year, I changed my job. Got myself a regular desk job which required me to sit and work with actual human beings. I got overtly excited by the possibility of working with some bright, intelligent young men and women and making a few friends. It's close to six months now. I have made a few acquaintances ( yes, and I am not being sarcastic) and no real friends. May be I have become too morose, too walled to let people come closer to me. Or perhaps, because I am seen as little senior and boss' protege that forbids people. Anyway, I don't analyse that much as long as I am spending some time in sunlight away from my 'dark' house. However, all said and done, there has not been much change in my depression pattern.

I have lost interest in doing everything and anything. May be I should migrate to sunny California and leave this SAD life. :)

In which we crib endlessly

2008-10-11T23:44:00.002+05:30

Yesterday, Igot talking to a friend - technically not a friend but one of those people I am out to because of my existence on a gay social networking site- about our respective ~~Sex~~ love lives. Let’s call him Virtuous V. He has recently found someone for dating, which was quite evident from his radiant face and his efforts to lose weight, on the same website. I was more jealous than happy to hear that and I started to ask him about his affair and the ‘juicy’ details. In answer to which I got to know about his paramour’s 6’2” height and patiyala pedigree. He himself being a proud punju was beaming when he coyly discussed the stats, nevertheless I kept on nodding my head in strange detachment to this whole gay existential i-don’t-need-a-boyfriend epiphany that I had suddenly discovered.

I cribbed and whined about not getting responses, or rather ‘right’ response despite having a pretty ‘suggestive’ pic at the site. VV got amazed when I told him that I was getting lesser responses since that pic had been there for close to six months.

He gets amazed that I don’t have any ‘friends’ in the community as he has made five-six very good friends in spite of being super busy with two jobs. How did that happen, I ask him. Ok, before that let’s go back how I got to know this guy.

VV messaged me on the same site around a year back telling me he was soon going to shift from Bombay to Delhi and was looking for possible boyfriend. Being the cynical guy I am, I gave him my standard reply that he was too goodlooking to be interested in me. He persisted and and I gave in by sending me my pics and phone number. Thankfully, he didn’t run away after seeing my pics . He would call me two to three times a day, interspersed with some inane SMS forwards which I found no time in deleting afterwards. He started talking about his area of work where I feigned some interest and asked him questioned after some bit of googling. Now, VV was highly educated, doing pretty OK in his career and most importantly sensitive enough to look over my average looks. ( He was sort of hottie, now I don’t find him that hot though)

So, what was the hitch.?

Most of the time, when I start interacting with anybody the question invariably turns to books. What books am I reading or have read etc etc? VV made a tactical mistake by telling me ‘Seven habits of highly successful people’ was the book he was reading then, and how life changing it had been for him. This particular book has its own importance in my life for being my first and last self help book I ever picked up ( didn’t have patience to finish that whole drivel). It was time for me to rethink. Here was a guy who waswilling to commit before we had even met once in person. Samantha Jones wouldn’t have approved of it and I concluded that he was too naïve, simple person.

Khair, to cut a long story short, much as I hate to judge people, I found him I was certainly not the person he was looking for. Later on, he came back to Delhi and I once pinged him once on the site to see how he was doing, and we kept in touch.

Yesterday, upon hearing my friendless, boyfriend less existence he asked me a few questions

Question 1 Do you follow up with the contacts you make ( read: hookups).

Answer1.Well, No!! I don’t follow up unless I am sure the person has brain and brawn. But I never call twice, and if the other person is not so enthusiastic, I don’t pester.

Question 2: Do you make an effort to keep in touch with the people you like?

Answer 2: Sometimes yes. But, I have high self esteem. May be egoist. My best friend from school has not picked up my last three calls. People change, I know he has at least. I am not going to call him now.

I am a taurean and very proud of being loyal in friendship or a relationship. I don’t do anything in half measure. I always think of others before me. My real friends who live everywhere except Delhi love me to the core. They make me feel what I think of myself without any inconsonance.

Now, before I finish this rant I must add that though I am pretty cool guy, there are few things that perturb me. Chief among that is superciliousness. I like smart people and I know how to spot them. Secondly, I hate the favorite game played in Delhi Gay circle. Name dropping, precisely. I am not interested if you were invited to Rohit Bal’s Birthday party or how many times you had slept at Burman’s or Punj’s. I mean get a life guys.

Khair, enough of rant. I like abrupt endings.

My first tag

2008-10-01T17:52:00.004+05:30

One of my most favorite bloggers Chrisann not only linked me to her blog, but also called me an 'old friend'. Beat that. That felt kinda nice. Wait, there is more. She also tagged me for a post. I have always wanted to be tagged. Inspite of being here, I was never tagged. Until now, that is.

So here it goes.

1. Last movie you saw in a theater?

The last movie I saw in theater was 'Rock On'. I went there because some colleagues insisted me to go. My inability to say no to such request came handy, and I didn't regret it at all.

2. What book are you reading?

Currently I am reading "Lunatic in my head' by Anjum Hasan. I wanted to read this since I read it's review here. I normally stay away from Indian fiction but this time I liked the concept of the novel with three very different protagonist, and its setting in a small town.

3. Favorite board game?

None, I am afraid.

4. Favorite magazine?

That's a tough one. My magazine seller never recommends any because he knows my eclectic taste. So I read Autocar India, Men's World, Outlook Business, Business World, India Today, Outlook, Economist, Home and Interiors, BBC Home, Femina, Marie Clare and The BIBLE- 'Cosomopolitan' ;)

Btw, my magazinewallh gives them all free to read because I am his regular patron for pirated books.

5. Favorite smells?

leathery, tobbaco notes.

6. Favorite sounds?

Wind Chimes

7. Worst feeling in the world?

That no one cares about you whether you live or die.

8. What is the first thing you think of when you wake up?

Do I really have to go to gym? Why can't I go tomorrow? Let's go in the evening.

9. Favorite fast food place?

Roadside Momos with lot's of chilly garlic chutney. My mouth is watering as I type this. I like it because it's healthy ( by not being oily), spicy and most importantly cheap.

10. Future child’s name?

hahaha, may be I will adopt one. Zarita: Meaning princess in spanish

11. Finish this statement. “If I had lot of money I’d….?

go on holiday..I have never gone on a holiday in the real sense.

12. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?

No. Never slept with stuffed toys. Though, I do need big cushions to support me

13. Storms - cool or scary?

Cool

14. Favorite drink?

Mojito..Though, I hardly drink I like mojito because of it's sweet and mint flavor

15. Finish this statement, “If I had the time I would….”?

I have all the time in world...I get terribly bored on weekends even to start thinking of five good reasons why I should not commit suicide.

16. Do you eat the stems on broccoli?

No.

17. If you could dye your hair any color, what would be your choice?

it would be Red. I have a thing for red heads. Kate Walsh, Julianne Moore, Cynthia Nixon

18. Name all the different cities/towns you’ve lived in?

that would be giving too much detail. More so because, they are so tiny town that it will hard to locate on a map.

19. Favorite sports to watch?

Gay and Sports?? You must be kidding. But, hey, I don't mind watching some hot wrestlers fighting it off, or those hot swimmers ;)

20. One nice thing about the person who sent this to you?

She is very sensitive and emphatic. At times, knowing exactly what you feel without you having ot clearly articulate it.

21. What’s under your bed?
Some old mattresses. Wish it was Ranbir Kapoor.

22. Would you like to be born as yourself again?

I am not too sure

23. Morning person, or night owl?

Night Owl

24. Over easy, or sunny side up?

Over.

25. Favorite place to relax?
My bed

26. Favorite pie?
Blueberry

27. Favorite ice cream flavor?
Lytchee

Parent's Trap

2008-09-27T23:51:00.004+05:30

Currently, I am halfway thru reading the book ‘Go Kiss the World’ by Subroto bagchi. In this book, Subroto bagchi chronicles his life from a small town in tribal Orrisa to setting up Wipro’s American business to becoming an entrepreneur while he was still in his forties.The book is divided in three section. The first section deals with his early childhood and education. I am still on second section where he has delineated his professional life from a Management trainee to selling software.

I picked the book because, like Subroto bagchi, I too come from a very small town. However, I still have long to go in my career before I can recount my tale saying how such and such things influenced me. Oddly enough, the reason for this post is different. Mr. Bagchi recalls how his parents, brothers have influenced him and shaped up his values.

If I ask myself how much if my parent I see in me, I would say a little. But if you ask me a different question, how much of my parents I want to see of in me; the answer would be none. Not because I hate them, or dislike them but because they have never been close to any role model I could have envisaged while I grew up, or even now for that matter.

I have been told that every one has an image or an idea of a person who they like to be like, emulate or just follow in his/her footsteps. Every MBA aspirant is asked to prepare this question before an interview. I had done it too, but we will come to that later. By the way, the favorite and most clichéd ( at least I find it clichéd ) role model for Indian students is Dhiru Bhai Ambani. What psychologists tell us is that our choice of role model tells a lot about our personality, especially the values which are closest to our heart. For instance, if someone has Kiran Bedi as their role model, this would signify they value honesty, bravery above all. Dhiru Bhai Ambani would stand for ‘wealth creation, Narayan Murthi would stand for ‘ethicaly making money’ and so forth.

I didn’t know this whole theory of values being hidden or rather manifested in the choice of role model one chooses. Therefore, I had done my selection based on whatever little I knew of the world by then. I had decided that my choice had to be not just politically correct, but also a little different. Zara hatke, you know.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to think that hard and I chose a role model who was not very well known but she was different and really represented what I wanted to embody. My role model was Aruna Roy. When I got to know about the values theory, it struck a big chord with me because I immediately knew what value I admire most.

Sacrifice: that was what I admired most. ( I am using past tenses because this was all happening five years back. I may or may not hold the same opinion now)

Now, after a rather long detour, the way I keep making, this book again made me think. Will there be anything about my parents that I would have to tell when I start chronicling my life. Things on how my parents were so great, how they instilled many great values, or what my mother told me as a ten year old kid had stayed with me all the life. The truth might be a little different. I was sure about it five years back, and after becoming saner and more mature in these last five years, I can confidently say that there has been no life lesson that I had imbibed from my parents. Except, yes there is a small matter, because I always like to give credit where it’s due, let me add I am thankful that my parents never harbored any communal feelings towards other religions which has made me quite pro muslim and tolerant. But this is more like the medical ethic: “Do no harm". So, I don’t give them much credit.

In India, especially, there is a tendency to hero worship our parents. I don’t know whether this stems from lack of objectivity or simple fact. But more often, I find the former case a bit stronger. We all as human beings don’t always remain rational, and see things thru a tinted glass when it comes to our personal lives. This might be true in the reverse case as well, where some one like me becomes excessively belligerent instead of becoming fond of his/ her parents. The point is it's difficult to have a balanced objective view point of two people we are closest to.

I always disliked when other kids talked about their parent in reverence. I used to believe everything they said about their parents at face value and compared that to my parents. My parents had too many weaknesses. Weaknesses that they never made any effort to conceal or even temporarily hide. It was all too open. Every one knew about it. They even started rejoicing in it. It was not as if they were distant or I didn’t love them. It’s just that I could never revere them. Because all their faults, weaknesses, pain and foibles were too obvious to me. I couldn’t start pretending that everything was normal in my household. But it was very normal to live in an abnormal house because you never knew the other way, the way I wrote about it here.

It was tough to be different. But western world is full of such stories where we don’t have to deduce a person’s success/ intelligence from his pedigree. Steve Jobs is a great example of that. I just hope that someday I also get in a position to advise people to get off their baggage.

Save Me

2008-09-24T18:47:00.005+05:30

There are bad days, and then there are some not so bad days.

But bad days persisit.

Or rather I hold them close so they don't slip and fade away.

Memories are very deceitful,

we forget what we have not forgotten.

And it all comes back, gushing, swamping with a force to

trample you, when all you want is it to seize you.

You want it to go bad. You try.

Try very hard to make things worse if it's not bad.

This self abuse, masochism has been entrenched hard.

keep rubbing the wound so it doesn't heal,

keep breaking off the ties so it doesn't hurt.

I keep my eyes closed so that no one can see my pain.

It's futile.

haha, isn't that stupid?

Stupid and Futile!

I do stupid things to cleanse myself of senstivity.

To ignore what other's ignore so peacefully.

To conform what people expect me to conform to.

Will I ever stand up for what I am?

But I don't know what I want to stand up for,

or who I am?

p.s The title of the post is taken from 'Save Me' by Jem from Grey's Anatomy's soundtrack. It's not a SOS

Schadenfreude and other tales

2008-09-09T15:40:00.004+05:30

So, we were attacked by a virus, hounded by a trojan, sickened by a dull life and enlivened by...well, I can't think of any smart answer. I have been dying to post as soon as my google started working, but lost track of all things I wanted to post. No surprises if this post is going to be a little more than digressing, and personal rant about everything. And yes, I will throw in a quick reviews too in Taran Adarsh Style.

Schadenfreude: That's my current favorite german world. Btw, my all time favorite german word is Tchuss ( pronounced as Chus) for entirely different reasons, however I like this word in particular because it makes me feel good about sufferings of others, without making me feel like I am a bad person. Sounds untrue, yes I am quite there. Here is the theory. Everytime I look in the mirror, especially the big wall to wall mirrors installed in my gym I start cringing and curisng my cocktail of genes. I mean I definately once saw a glimpse of flat stomach when I sucked in the entire air of the building and everyone else was gasping for breath ( only figuratively ) to see my Abs. Anyone who has gone to a gym hoping to look like Eduardo Verastegui ( That name took a lot of thought rambi, bye bye Cena) in a week will be sorely disappointed with their results which never matches with speed with which people reject their calls when you want to depserately find a 'catch up' on weekend. Well, I felt so good that it's just not me. My prettier, sexier, richer and more importantly dumber 'acqunitences' face the same problem once in a while.

Wanted: Caught the movie after I read good reviews before it was taken off from the multiplexes, being in close proximity of "non-gentry" area of Delhi i.e. close to my home. And yea, ticket costs half of what you pay in those 'select' few ' roadshows' which is hallmark of delhi's swish crowd.

That aside, I like James McAvoy. I liked him immensely over anorexic, whiny, moronic, ever pouting Keira Knightly in Atonement. Now, enough has been said about Ms Jolie and her philanthropic acts but after watching wanted I am sure, it's never going to be enough.
I guess she is is the only person who does not have collagen infused lips, other than me ;)
A little digression, but has any body looked at the fad of thick lips. Has anyone seen what ghastly act Priya Chatwal has done to herself, her pout has become big like a pig's snout and the other day I caught Sameera reddy with facial palsy on one of silly dance reality program and for a few moment I could not understand why nothing is moving on her face except her eyeballs. Phew, botox overdose!! And less said about Koena Mitra's nose job, the better.

Khair, point is Jolie is super sexy and it means a lot if a 'guy' like me says so. And the movie, though silly, is good for it's wonderfully executed action sequences. Watch it for that alone, and for James McAvoy.And yes, I read Jolie's interview where she feels insecure about her looks. Oh, I totally know that feeling!

In which we get attcked and Come Out

2008-08-30T09:37:00.005+05:30

Last week was very hectic of sorts. I had a charade of thing going on at the workplace where people were gathered and supposed to ideate at the new innovation station, in other words it was a week long training program where the only reason people showed some intermittent interest in the proceedings was when they wanted to win some brownie points in front of their Bosses. In our B-school days, we used to call it DCP, for the uninitiated it's short for Desperate Class Participation. I have never been known for my loquaciousness either at the B-school I went or the place I am working now, but I do make concessions especially if I am trying to seduce somebody with decent appreciation for english language with my Ally Mcbealesque blabbering- which incidentlly I used to find very cute but which also has backfired everytime without exception.

And my laptop has got infected with virus. I had heard so much about why not to download stuff from torrent sites and all, but never paid any heed. What is life without some bit of adventure thrown in?? ( yes, those of you who find my definition of adeventure a little lame, and are smirking right now. Let me just say you are right. I play safe). Now, this particular virus or trozan or some sortof thing was supposed to be kinda removed by running some remedial pogram. But I think any kind of historic ethnic cleansing be it nazi holocaust or serbian state sponsered massacre have been unsucessful-thank god for that; and closer home when I tried to kill these viruses happily marauding the efficiently running processes on my Core 2 duo processor I was pushing my fight against fate and historically correct statistics. You can crush them, thwart them, but you cannot wipe them off the face of your machine :(.

So, I gave up after a while when things stated to look like they were in order and I submitted to the idea that I could do without the blazing speed of my pentium processor. ( which has never been so fast but haven't I worked on P II? Yes, I have ). To cut a long story short, I can't open any google sites from my machine due to this virus. Be it my gmail, orkut, reader or BLOGSPOT. Of all the notorious sites in this world, this virus had to attack or block or some such thing, the Google. Seriously?? I mean my job depends on it. I can't breathe if I am not able to google any unknown/ unfamiliar hottie that you guys keep mentioning on your blogs. Besides, any B-school gradute will tell you that how google has saved her from a life time of misery where earlier one had to run through tons of books in the library where you were not even allowed to play footsie, to make a presentation, and now you have google where everything is just a click away.

Ok, enuff of google worship. But, some of you would surely wonder if google is not working how I am ranting in the usual fashion. Well, I just had to excavte an antique laptop that once belonged to my great grandfather and weighs a thousand kilos, gets extremely hot and subsequently shuts down if I am not in an AC room and use it. It's dead slow but I need my moment of catharisis.

Hmm, I feel so much better.

P.S.Did I just mention I came out to someone. That too thru this blog.

Filmsy facades

2008-08-20T21:25:00.005+05:30

We often show more of something when we are hiding it.

This line set me thinking, made me realize what a facade my life has been. And the real problem here is that I don't know who is the real me.

I smile profusely when I am nervous. I tend to think I look better this way.
I give a guffaw in the middle of a serious conversation when I see somebody has fielded my volley better than I anticipated.
I try to be very nice to people who have been nasty with me, hoping in vain that they will see their folly.
I can use the choicest of abuses in front of my family but I can hardly cuss elsewhere. I can never understand why?
I don't laugh a lot so that no one may think I am flamboyant or flimsy.
I refrain from befriending good looking people to reassure myself I am not that bad looking.
I act with all normalcy- no excessive eye, lip, eye brow, wrist movement- so that no one may think I am queer. I give a different meaning to 'Stiff'.

I know, most of these may sound like I am a definite mental case. But as they say, acknowledging the malady is the first step in treating it; and here I don't want to be treated.

Never judge a book by it's film

2008-08-15T13:27:00.006+05:30

Last night, I watched two movies back to back based on books. First one was 'Kite Runner', a book which was stupendous commercial success with readers across world lapping it up, despite the fact that literary critics did not think very highly of the book. Notwithstanding the critics opinion, I was immensely moved by the book when I read it exactly two years back. This was perhaps the first work of fiction that was based on Afghanistan that chronicled the country from her 70's western influenced free spirit to post taliban era. Another notable thing that this book holds special place for me is because it's the only book I finished in one go. Unputdownable. That was one word I could describe it with, then. Planning to read this again, savoring each word this time to get more nuances from the book.

However, that day has not come till date, and I decided to watch the movie based on the book. The movie was shot in Kashgar,China because of prevailing tensions in the Afghanistan. The first thing you notice in the movie is the brilliant camera work and scenic beauty. The terrain shown in the movie looks similar to Laddakh but more breathtaking, captivating and bright. Now, I have one more place to visit on my 'place to visit' list.

The movie for most part stuck to the book, and I couldn't find scenes where they altered the sequences. However, in order to stick to running time, some of the portions were perhaps not filmed/edited out. The film was in persian dari with englsih subtitles thrown in. But the excellent acting by main cast did not need much deciphering on my part, aside from the fact that I had read the book.

The second movie I saw last night was 'Brick Lane' written by Monica Ali, a debut novel which was also shortlisted by Booker in year 2003. I wanted to pick this book for a long time but couldn't read it for some reason or the other. So I was excited to hear that the book is being made into a movie and would do the festival rounds soon. The book, along with the film had to face considerable opposition from Bangladeshi community since they felt it projected them in wrong light. But now, after having seem the movie, I strongly feel there is not much controversial in the film. Every community has some quirk, peculiarities and people like to read/ write about it; rather than the mundane and ordinary stuff. Just because 'God of Small Thing' is based in kerala and talks of illicit realtionship does not mean that all malyalees are sex maniacs/incestuous. By the same analogy, the movie did show some unpleasant aspect of Bangladeshi community, but it will only be juvenile to apply that stereotype to seventh most populous country in the world.

I didn't like the movie much, I think the device employed in the novel by the author was series of letters exchanged between sisters, one living in Brick Lane, London and the other in Bangladesh. This particular feature, though splendid in print, did not come out strongly due to limitation of cinema as a medium. The cast was first rate, and most Indians will be surprised to see Satish Kaushik playing the main characters in the movie. Satish Kaushik is a trained actor, and has been active on the theater circuit as well. My first recollection of his brilliant acting was when he along with 'Pankaj Kapur' came as 'Titu and Toni' on Superhit Muqabla on Zee TV. Satish Kaushik has donned the mantle of movie director succesfully, and his most notable films include ' Hum Aap Ke Dil Mein Rahte Hain', Roop ki rani Choron Ka Raja, 'Mujhe kucch Kahna Hai', etc.

Now, before I answer the original conundrum, I must list a few movies I had seen that were based on books.

The Namesake ( read the book first)
Chocolate ( read the book later)
The Da Vinci Code ( book first)
Pinjar ( book first)

Initially, I was of the opinion that it is essential to have read the
book to enjoy the film. But now I think it is not required unless we are talking about a book like Da Vinci Code which had to be compressed in 120 minutes

'The Namesake' was more colorful, lively and relatable than Jhumpa Lahiri's book. The movie had different focus on character of 'Ashima' than ' Gogol', opposed to the situation in the book. However, considering all the time constraints, the essence of book was preserved giving it a sharp flavor and pace by Mira Nair in the movie.

'Chocolat' as people who care to look at my blogger profile page might notice, is amongst my favorite films. I fell in love with everything in the book. From red haired Juliette Binoche, who I declared to be the most beautiful women I had ever seen; to sexy Johny Depp in an underplayed performance, not to mention the place the whole movie was set. I would have to google it, but my hunch says it has to be either Italy or France. And did someone mention chocolate?? umm, I don't think there can be any one in the audiance who does not fall in love with dark, creamy, gooey, sweet, bitter chocolate shown in various montage shots in the movie. ( I need to get a slice of dark chocolate cake, NOW)

I was disappointed when I read the the book which was quite different from what was shown in the movie. Characters were not as goodlooking, colorful, mysterious as they appeared in movie. The setting was not majestic, the chemistry between lead pair was tepid.

So, that was the moment, for the first time when I realized a better movie can be made out a book. And I adhered to the dictum 'never to judge a book by it's movie' since then.

P.S. I have neither seen or read the most famous book adaptation of our times- 'The God Father'. The reason is I get put off by universal praise, though I would like to see/ read it.

Ill effects of not blogging...

2008-08-11T18:07:00.009+05:30

... for a long time is that you start thinking about everything that a post can be made about. And in that process, you end up accumulating so many threads that once you decide to actually start writing, the mind gets full of disparate threads like a hindi movies with eleven songs ( All hit ) without knowing how to structure them into a storyline.

So I have been thinking of doing a post on my dating experiences in delhi, a disastrous haircut I got last week, a few extra pounds that I gained while I gorged on sweets ( I love ghevar, It's seasonal so I have to eat it like a ritual), may be a post on my workout routine ( or lack of it), my unfinished painting classes, or probably something related to global economic slowdown. Ha, I'd never be able to write anything like that.

But I chose something easier which sparked my curiosity, and it will do good for ignorant souls like me as well.

As I have mentioned earlier how mainstream media is brandishing the gay cause, and with health minister's ministrations ( couldn't help the silly pun!), there seems to be light at the end of the tunnel. HT city listed another place for heavy partying in delhi for our tribe.

Does anyone know what place they are referring to for dirty dancing?

Am I too old for Crushes??

2008-08-04T21:00:00.002+05:30

I am currently reading 'White Teeth' by Zadies Smith. Ms. Smith is much celebrated writer and this was her debut novel which found much favor among the literary circle. I had picked her second book ‘On Beauty’ around a year back and started reading it, leaving it midway – not because it was boring or something, it’s just that I think I was not in the right frame of mind.

The first thing that strikes you about her is her uncanny beauty, dark piercing eyes, high cheekbones, and that caramel complexion thanks to her interracial parentage. Another striking thing about her is that her first novel White Teeth came when she was only twenty five. In today’s age, where anyone who knows how to string a few words together, and becomes an aspiring writer , I feel it’s a really big feat to get yourself published and get all that laurels.

I haven’t finished White Teeth and thereby I can’t write a formal review of the book ( Futile excercise I think, the book was published eight years ago). So why am I writing about her?? It’s because the book White Teeth- which was described as an Interracial tour the force, and which I thought would have to be dealing with Carrabian and English culture or amalgamation of it- is chiefly based on two couples: Bangladeshi couple and Jamaican English couple. I am close to half way through the book, and I can safely say that the main protagonists are Bangladeshi couple, unlike what I had surmised in the beginning.

Mian Samad and Alsana are two very unlike people and they share very few things other than their country of origin and the fact that they are married to each other. Now, coming to why I am writing about the book is a confession that I want to make.

Midway through the book, I realized how peculiar it is that the book is mirroring my feelings at present time. In the book, Mian Samad at the age of fifty seven is gripped by an intense infatuation- a desire which goes wrong against his faith, his standing, his age and his marital status- towards the music teacher of his twin sons in school. He repeatedly gets sexually aroused by mere thought of the teacher who he has met only for a few minutes in a PTA meeting. He can’t let her thought go, he is hard all the time and masturbation not being halal ( I don’t know the veracity of this) is in a continual ethical dilemma to do it.

Now, I have a very hot colleague of mine who I have recently started interacting more than I should. Though, I don’t find him super-intelligent ( a must for keeping me hooked to an individual), his easy manners, affability and good looks keep me interested in him. And to top it, this guy has six packs ( Never seen those but from the looks of his formal clothes I can make out a lot more than just his packs) with a great body. (Only minus point is he is shorter than me by two inches). Normally, I don’t like any competition to be close to me but this time I don’t care that much if he has better physique than me. ( I am not in a bad shape myself! Wink, wink).

One thing that keeps me intrigued is how or why this guy is single. He is good looking, intelligent, articulate, earns well, and has gone to good colleges. Not to mention, he has great fashion sense, h takes care of himself well. Is he a new age metrosexual male or I am reading too much here?? For Chrissake, he is a hot blooded punju who don’t give a damn about having new flings every fortnight!!

So, I don’t think I many have to explain how my situation is similar to Mian Samad and what’s keeping me awake/ disturbed/ aroused/ intrigued this entire weekend. In fact, I think this whole thing was reinforced in some way when I read it in the book and started imagining myself to write a similar novel in future with great deal of masala thrown in. I can call it ‘White Sheets”. I know that’s cheesy. But, aren’t wet dreams are made of ‘white sheets’ and ‘White teeth’

P.S: I wanted to do a post about comparing language style of British vs American authors; in fact, comparing Jhumpa Lahiri and Zadie Smith. I am not even remotely an authority on the subject of linguistics, nevertheless I think it will be an interesting post.

Nocturnal Colorful Experiments

2008-07-30T21:45:00.013+05:30

I am putting a few pics which I painted late last night, and considering I had ten others things to do- filing my tax returns, chief among them- I was happy to digress from the usual routine and let my baser instinct take over me. The results are not great. Blame it on camera or the paper I used ( I still haven't been able to locate the art supply shop in Def Col), but it surely looks better on paper. Since I have started dabbling in colors again, I will keep posting my experimentations..

On the subject of my inspiration, I like doing flower or landscape in watercolor. A landscape would have taken 2-3 hours with all those washes and detail that I chose flower over it. Anyway, painting flowers puts me in cheerful mood. I like the bright colors. So here I have. Carnation and Narcissus for all my readers ( and non- readers as well)

In which I give my thanksgiving speech

2008-07-30T00:08:00.007+05:30

Nine comments on my last post!! I have finally arrived on the blogging scene। Where does this lead me? Am I going to fret over what my next post is all about- the way rambws suggest in his post, or I will write random stuff?

Thank you guys for reading whatever tripe I post here, and taking time to comment on it. ( Do book reviews get more comments?? I must do a few quickly to boost readership)

I think I am little charged now. I have give my Blog a 'Make better'. But, trust me, I am not gonna be flamboyant. Understated, classic elegance is more like my style. However, before all of this I have to figure out how to get these embellishments for my blog. I need a new "skin" template ( I think they still call it skin, no they call it template..I desperately need to know the way I can cross Skin )

I will put link to all my favorite blogs and will basically copy everything from flygye. I think I have made pretty much clear that I am not an original. I like smart work and don't believe too much in hard work, so I can lift off ideas from hear and there and make nice potpourri.

But before all that happens, I am gonna do something. As I have never mentioned anywhere in my blog that I am an art lover and aspiring painter ( among other things)..I will put a few pics of my work. No, Flygye.! You don't get any prizes for goading me to paint at 11:30 in night so that I can put those images in the morning. Though, you can be little lenient about my claims of being an above average painter and criticize my work mildly.

Do I have anything else to write। Yes, a few lines in hindi. hehe.
आज शाम को जब हम काम से वापस आ रहे थे, तब हमने बहुत अरसे के बाद एक जादुई शाम देखी। जादू शायद हमारी निगाहों में था, याफ़िर थकान हम पे हावी हो रही थी। पूरा आसमान बैंगनी, गुलाबी, नारंगी और कत्थई रंगों से लबरेज धीरे धीरे रात की काली चादर ओढ़ रहा था। हम सब कभी कभी जिंदगी की भाग दौड़ में इस कदर मसरूफ हो जाते हैं की अपने इर्द गिर्द हो रही चीज़ों की तरफ़ हल्का सा भी ध्यान नही जाता, वो सब एक ढर्रे पे चलती हुईं तस्वीरें बन जाती हैं, जिनका कोई ख़ुद का वजूद नही होता। वोह सिर्फ़ बंधी होती हैं एक कड़ी से, जिसका एक सिरा बीते कल में और अगला सिरा आने वाले कल में होता है। एक ऐसी कड़ी जो हमें बांधे तो हैं, पर वोह किस से बंधी है , इसका अंदाजा नही है। ना हमें, ना उस वक्त को! आज की इस शाम ने हमें फ़िर से याद दिलाया की जिंदगी में खूबसूरती बिखरी हुई है, ज़रूरत है तो सिर्फ़ इसे अपने जीवन मेंभरने की! शायद ये कोशिश जारी रहेगी! इंशा अल्लाह !!

Enchantress of Florence

2008-07-27T23:29:00.002+05:30

I just finished reading "enchantress of Florence" by Sulman Rushdie. It was my first Rushdie book. Though I had started reading "Moor's Last Sigh" a decade ago, I couldn't go beyond first few chapters. The language was too complex for me, and I had a terrible ( still do) habit of knowing the full meaning of every word before moving on. Ostensibly, at that time, I used to do this with every written thing that came my way especially the film glossies that were my staple read those days. It did help me while I was preparing my the MBA entrance exams and needless to add vocab was my favorite section. Now, I don't think there is anything left to say about the style magical realism, baroque style of Rushdie. However, I needed just three evenings (2-3 hrs daily) to finish this book.
The plot was revetting with so many literary devices thrown in that after a while I stopped paying heed to it and started enjoying the book. There was too much history thrown in, History of medival Italy, Mughal India and Turkey Ottoman empire. A few referances to sexual practices in those times did make it more engaging reading experience. And come to think of it, Rushdie writes that two third of florence was gay. Umm, Oliver Martinez!! where are you ??I am coming to you. ( Though, a quick google check tells me is he is of french spanish descent...oh never mind, I don't mind them either)

if any one of you ever reads movie reviews by Taran Adarsh, he has a line that he uses in every reivew. Classes vs Masses. Before I fall in the trap of reviewing this book, let me just say I found it an interesting read, somewhat pacy unlike other books I often pick up and it certainly have class for masses.

This post doesn't make much sense!

2008-07-27T00:06:00.003+05:30

I was writing a message to an old friend turned foe, turned friend, turned 'somewhere in between friend and foe' guy and I wrote a line which made me realize how ignorant we sometimes become to our own emotions.

I can never hurt a person deliberately except me.

This line may sound as if I think too highly of myself, or I am some psuedo saint who wants to wallow in his own glory but this is so true of I have been living my life. Actually, there is another way this line can be interpreated and which when I analysed, to my horror, was so true as well. ( I mostly leave myself while psychoanalyzing the whole world for their motivation, action, inspiration)

We all have our dark sides, negative sides where we feel good about something bad, something nasty happening to someone we don't like. How happy we become when we learn that the colleague we were not so fond of was not promoted as well, the girl who was topper in our graduation batch has not done so well. I think German's have a word for this feeling which has slipped my mind. I will add it

For want of suitable targets to project my envy/ frustration/ disappointment what I do is turn it on myself. Therefore, I hurt myself knowingly because either I am incapable of hurting anyone or I have nobody to hurt that I care for. Yes, I don't believe in hurting people just because the crossed my way, said something nasty about me, made fun of me or simply if they hate me.

Am I a masochistic moron??

In as much I want this to be false, it turns out to be true.
I have a big ego. I get hurt easily. I am too sensitive for the prevailing negativity around me. Then why can't give it back to the people???
Initially, I thought this was because I was too soft, too mellow and good hearted. In other words, GAY.
But, hey, most of gay guys I have come across are more than capable of hurting you like you have never been before. Why do I have to this self ingratiating person trying to be loved and like by all. I don't know if these two things are related I do see a connection.

I blame myself. ALWAYS.
Not others. Always trying to rationalize their behavior with something that I might have done to piss them off. I know there are not many. But this process, I tend to think enables me to identify my weaknesses and improve me as a person.

Improvement, but for whom and what??
why do i have to be get depressed every time somebody acts like an ass and I end up blaming myself.

Shocking but true

2008-07-24T21:58:00.003+05:30

This is not new news, but it's shocking to say the least. We think that things will be different outside India but they are not. The more things change, the more they remain same..So no matter how many 'Will & Grace', 'Gossip Girl' and " Ugly Betty' we have, it's still a touchy subject..Read on

http://www.newsweek.com/id/147790

Queer Eye for Straight Guy

2008-07-21T17:17:00.004+05:30

Queer eye for straight guy debuted last night on Discovery Travel & Living, and being none too wiser I had to watch it to ascertain the queer quotient for myself. I won't bore you with the details which can be aptly described as how five 'fab' gay men give a straight man a 'make better' ( not a typical makeover, you see) encompassing his appearance, wardrobe, kitchen, , household and social skills.

I was expecting it to be a lot more fab, a lot more sensational and a lot more colorful. I think, the creator and presenters would have been a little off key in the first few episodes to gauge audience reaction to the new concept. While doing my pre-research for the show I found out that the also drew some flak for stereotyping gay men...I found all of them to be quite different, not like where they all are pinky pansies or muscled butch; thereby presenting a spectrum of 'rainbow' colors.
As I am opposed to any kind of categorization, I do feel that you don't have to be gay to have a fashion sense or have a clean, organized room. But, I do have to admit, albeit reluctantly, that more often than not gay men are better equipped to take care of things that most straight men mundane/ boring/ superficial ( all silly excuses) either because of their conditioning or their being plain lazy.

Have I ever been asked if I am gay because of my 'skills' in fashion, cooking, interior decoration, personal hygiene apart from being sensitive ( last one is really limit)...Having super intelligent friends does have its downsides, and them knowing my orientation without me having to spill everything is one of those downsides. :)

Update: Caught the second episode too. But it's a little too dull for my taste. They pick up the dirtiest, most un-groomed person and create a make better. Anyone can do that. ( read: gay) Why hire five people when I alone can do as much a good job :)

Instant Filter: Coffee - Contradiction Galore

2008-07-14T23:02:00.004+05:30

There is this guy whom I personally don't know, but know about him through his appearances in the infamous delhi chat room 22. I know a few things about this guy like where he is from and what he does etc, from a few social networking sites he has created his 'real' profile on. There used to be a time orkut was not that inflesxible for snooping guys like me. Most of the people who visit this room will identify him ( No, I am not mentioning about the guy who gives his travel route every evening so that somebody can 'pick' him up). This guy is a doctor and perhaps pursuing his post grad course ( These medicos! they keep studying all their lives). Now, what initially caught my fancy in this guy was his hoarse cries in the chat room asking for any one 'educated'. Confident of being an educated sophisticated guy, I pinged him. To my surprise, He asked me," Are you a doctor?" I replied, "No. I am not". End of conversation. Not that it was a bad day for him or me. This scene has repeated quite a few time. He often comes online and asks " Any doctor/ engineer in this room?"

Did I feel insulated/ offended by his repsone. No, I was not. I was amused. I was amused at the thought process of some people. Now, I am fully aware that how our matrimonial pages are filled with adverts for 'Medico bride wanted', but isn't this a same kind of parochial thinking reflected here. There will be people who may think that being from the same profession will let the'couple' understand each others issues/ concerns/ life style in addition to regular dining table conversation some of which may go like "That hysterectomy case became serious after Hypokalemia causing rhabdomyolysis. I had to rule out Bartters syndrome and Gitelmans syndrome with rhabdomyolysis due to severe hypokalemia." I don't know many who will jump with delight on hearing such interesting chain of thought to go along with their morning Tea.

This case must be an extreme. And to those people who disbelieve me, I suggest spend some time in the chat room to witness this doctor's call. However, there is a deeper point here. As human beings we all have tendencies to make snap judgments, which some researchers have found are more often than not correct ( Read 'Tipping Point' for the detailed view on this theory). But if I remember clearly, as with every other fad theory the writer in this book has also advised caution to excercise this a little too frequently without discretion. We all try and make judgments, filter people and categorize them to put them in different boxes for convenience of our brain. If somebody is sikh, he has to be loud, loose with his verbal volleys, has a thing for butter chicken and daru and will dance to his guts everytime a bhangara song is played out. Not that I am above such categorization, I think we choose the easy way because we are too lazy to make an effort know someone. We are too eager to fill in the blanks after we know someone superficially, some times without even knowing them. Just by having a look at them ( I do it most when I see a very goodlooking guy/ gal dismissing them to be dumb. But in my heart, I so wanna be proved wrong about this. And I have been proved wrong in a few cases involving member of opposite sex, though)

How easy it is to filter. How easy it is so call someone 'not my type' because he/ she doesn't listen to songs I like, doesn't like the movies I like, nor do they look and speak the new lingua franca of India 'english' like me. I know I am stretching the stereotype a little too far here. But don't we get judged and judge others in return. I have been asked this a number of time whether I am a product of much famous 'elite' school of my home town. People presume that I think in a certain way, so I should be in this profession. I mean if I can tell apart a ritu kumar and JJ vallaya just by looking at the ensemble, it doesn't make me a fashion guy ( A gay guy perhaps ;) )

I have never travelled to west. But what I have gathered from pop culture, it tells me that most of the people give two hoots about a lot factors given consideration here in India. Factors such as where you live ( any think less than south delhi is blasphemy ), how fluent you are in english ( most of the guy here will not blink an eye before they agree to sleep with Christiano Ronaldo), what care you drive and how much money you make ( the previous question is used to make an estimate of your net worth because asking salary package is not considered polite - unless you meeting prospective in laws). Miranda from Sex and the City is an example- may be fictionalized, but what about Matt Damon and George Clooney? Well, not that everybody has to agree with me, but for dating one only needs an 'interesting' person. Interesting may be a very broad term but it's still better than making someone a series of stats. Looks are important and cannot be denied in real world, but there is always more to a person than his/her looks ( I hate to be stereotyped as gay blogger coz being gay is just one of the things that make me a person. And I find there are far more interesting thing in me than my sexual orientation)

I am an avid follower of Grey' Anatomy. In the first few episodes of third season, when doctor Burke is shot in hand and he is unable to gain full control of his hand after his surgery, we get to see a moral dilemma in Christina. Who does she love? Preston Burke the guy who love her or Doctor Burke who is the best heart surgeon in the entire west coast? The question is essentially what defines the person you love, and whether you love what defines him/ her or the person in question. Love is always selfless. You can't love or pretend to love an attribute of a person. What if that attribute is gone? ( I have not taken any kind of physical deformity to illustrate my point deliebrately) Will I stop loving my mom because she was not what she used to be -beautiful and able to care for me? I did not and I will not.

What am I trying to suggest here?? That you go out with all sort of people without any discrimination. No, That will be absurd. It's just that we need to be a little more open minded and flexible, and most importantly a bit patient. Patient to know the person before of us. Because sometime we ourselves start believing in the facades we create and lies we tell ourselves.

Is it Friendship or Fiend-ship??

2008-07-05T00:01:00.003+05:30

I am often asked this question. It embarrasses me to no end and yet each time the answer remains same. It's not as if I have deliberately done something to maintain the status quo. May be I have been plain lazy. And if somebody is wondering what that question is. Let me come straight ( ??) to the point.

Have I made any friend ( read: Gay) in Delhi?

This question looks awfully simple but no matter how many times I answer this- whether to myself or some random guy I picked on chat rooms- the answer doesn't change. Yes, I have no friends in delhi. Leave aside question of his/her being straight or gay.

I have often tried to figure out the reason why I am alone in such a fun loving boisterous city. Am I that anti- social, boring, boorish, stupid or simply put what is wrong with me ? It's not that I have not come across people. I have my profile on a few networking sites where I do get responses; and last year I was a chat-oholic. I have met a few of them in real as well. Good people. Educated, articulate and some of them pretty hot too. But why those seemingly nice, intelligent guys have never bothered to remain friends with me. In fact, I have asked this question to a few people I have met that how many gay friends they have been able to make. And most of them surprised me by telling me that they do have a few very nice friends, some even have gay best friends. How I wish if I had even a single friend.

Let me first tell you why I want a friend. I live alone in this city. I hardly get to interact much at my workplace because of nature of work. Therefore, weekends are my worst nightmares. I have nothing else to do on weekend except reading. I love going out, intelligent conversation, exploring the city its monuments, eating at new places, shopping and works. But most of you realize that these activities are half as fun if done alone- or at least I find it boring after a time. I would love to have a friend for all these, not to mention my trips to gay pubs and discussing who looks hotter on the street.

I have found an answer to this question as well. Now, I am not one of those guys who blame others for everything and anything that happens to them. I feel most of the things in our life are in our locus of control- barring a few, of course. This discovery has not been without it's share of pathos. I have concluded that I do not have gay friends because I am an average looking guy. Ok, let me add something there. I am an average looking person with not so average intellect. Now, I know how facile this sounds, but trust me I have given due consideration. How else will you explain that people who are ready to sleep with me, who can have long conversation with me on phone for the entire day before meeting me, suddenly realize that they are far too busy with their life. In the first case, in all modesty let me say that- some very hot men have found me to be 'hot' and I don't blame them for objectifying me. hehe. In some case, we have done it and I have expressed my desire to be in touch with them, doing the things that I mentioned in the beginning. However,even the best of these guys perhaps follow the one meeting policy.

There is another category, where people go gaga over me. Only on phone that is. When we talk. they will coo sweet nothings and everything will be 'suggested' to be on offer. Hardly, there has been a case when the deal was cut.

Contrary to what my luck has been, I have found that every good looking guy- no matter how dubs he is- will have at least a few friends, that too equally hot, if not more. I fully know that how this gay world functions on whole concept of beauty and looks but what really perturbs is the shallow hypocrisy these people put up. Why do they have to embellish an 'Indecent Proposal' in the garb of friendship. Why can't we behave a little mature and start differentiating between friendship, love, sex and sex of casual nature.

Disclaimer: Whatever I have written here has also been given another name : Delhi Gay Dating. There are high chances that if you are not from Delhi, you would not have experienced this. Equally possible it is that you are a Delhite and goodlooking. So, I know that you are not part of the tribe.

Sex and the City Post

2008-06-17T00:11:00.004+05:30

I went to watch Sex and the City movie on this Sunday evening. It was the only running show of the movie at 10 PM and I had nothing to do for the day, quite like all the other weekends. So, I decided to watch the movie alone. Before that I dropped on to a friend's place, who leads a completely insular life as he prepares for his civil services exams, and would be the last guy to know about sex and the city. I told him casually that I am going to watch this movie in an hour and did not even ask him to join me. Now, He dropped this information to some of the guys who live in his house as tenants when he went there to fix some problem.

Being a closeted a guy, I don't like people second guess me. It's not about whether or not they will be able to surmise about my sexuality, but more for my self satisfaction that I am this super intelligent dude who covers all his trails, leaving nothing behind for any one to think differently than what I want them to think ( I know it's weird )

The reason I do this is that I have in company of some super observant people-who I could sense had their reasons to doubt my sexuality. I remember- this very good friend of mine asking me in the middle of conversation, while we were surrounded by some six to seven other close friends if I was sure I was not gay. Much to his surprise, I knew he was up to some trick and I deftly passed that off as nonchalantly as I could. Why I mentioned all this is because I happened to bump into his tenant a few minutes later when he came again for something and we started talking. He gave me meaningful stares when he got to know that I was going for that movie alone. The movie being SATC.

I couldn't have cared less about what he felt. It was just a matter of always having the upper hand. Anyway, I decided to tell him I don't have any girlfriend and neither am I looking for one.

Let's talk about the movie. I have been a great fan of series and will tell you about its effect on my psyche while I was growing up in some other posts. Most of the comments I read later about the movie said the movie couldn't keep the promise of the series etc etc. But for me, I was too happy to see the foursome together on screen. I could empathize with some of the situations. I am a big fan of Samantha and Kim Katrall. I guess most gay men look up to her as an icon. She is unapologetic about anything she does. And subconsciously perhaps we all want to achieve that stage where we are completely in sync with out actions and thoughts. All in all, I had a great time watching the movie and it rekindled my spirits for all things glamorous and sassy. No wonder, I bought two shoes today!

I NV U ALL

2008-06-12T21:31:00.004+05:30

I have just come from gym, still drenched in sweat, AC running on full blast in this humid Delhi weather, TV running in front me, and I am trying to blog something very imporatant. Not that important perhaps. I know, I will have second thought if I put this for some other time, In fact, I am strating to have thoughts while I am typing this.

A rant against every one and no one.

I hate cribing , I hate rants, and I will hate myself for writing this all. Because, I like to believe I am this super strong, emotionally insulated guy who can put up with everything. And lest that facade once again takes over my senses, my life, I am gonna spill it all out.

As I mentioned this post is going to be about rants, I am going to to use the word envy.

I envy: people who have both parents alive and caring for them.
I hate: when these people don't realize what they have got and all the time rant against how their parents don't understand them.

I envy: when I call someone and find their phone line busy
I hate: when no one calls me. I don't get personal calls often ( there aren't many 'official' calls either but that's a different issue) most often when I have left my cellphone for hours somewhere, i reach for it in anticipation only to find in return that there has not been a single call

I envy: people who are carefree. who don't give a damn about any one. who are ready to leave jobs/ career/ family without much thought.
I hate: when I keep deliberating and deliberating..and most often miss the window of opportunity

I envy: people who can use foul language
I hate: when i get uncomfortable when somebody uses foul languages and I somehow show my displeasure despite my full efforts at trying to disguise my expression

I envy: people who can remain slim with all that garbage that they keep eating
I hate: when I can't fit into my old clothes

I envy: all good looking people who are so fortunate to have born that way. how does the 'karma' theory fit in here?? Was I a sinner in past life or I am getting uglier because of bad karma?
I hate: people who have insane amount of money to spend on their looks

Pink is the new navy blue of Delhi

2008-05-25T00:42:00.004+05:30

I think there is a strong upsurge of sorts when it comes to all things that are queer in this town. A newly looking HT city was recently launched with not just extra pages, more city beats, but services of a few 'gay' writers are also employed to generate enough pink interests in the city tabloid. A few queer blogs- to say so have sprung up too. Having said that, frankly speaking, I find this as a healthy trend where marginalised issues are being covered in prominent dailies. I don't know what reaction the self professed morality brigade will have on this, but I am sure very soon when they have run out of inane issues , they will launch an attack on the daily on charges of corrupting impressionable youth.

Notwithstanding this fact, I had decided at the beginning of this blog that it is not going to be a gay centric blog. Being gay is just part of my personality, and I am more than confident that there are many interesting things about me than who I sleep with. I have been a great fan of ' sex and the city' kind of columns, and HT media does a docile take on the same titled ' single in the city'; however I find it much more interesting to reach out to anyone( whoever reads it, I know there are not many) with my ideas, opinions and quirks. So, I have blogged about books, movies, favorite TV shows, friends, family and being gay among others.

On second thoughts, I do think that I should write much more on my love/sex life ( which is very dull at the moment, so all hot guys mail me if you are reading this). So in random order, I will write a few things that talks about such stuff

I have been to only four dates in my life. I can make it five but the last one was not actually a date, but rather a cute guy who happened to be friend of a friend's friend and whom I literally stalked, on gay networking sites, of course.
Now, let this not mislead into thinking that I have been pure as Victorian damsel. As any gay guy worth his pink t-shirts will tell you, we can't do without enough sex. And there is never enough sex for us. Though, I was never as 'active' as most of the people in the fraternity are, I have had my share of fun. Though, I must mention that I still not have hopped to three figure for number of men I have had fun with.
I would never have paid sex, except for, of course, when I was doing research on my forthcoming book, which was inspired by 'Laaga Chunari Mein Daag', needless to add the idea of the book was dropped when the film sank.
I can be very pliable around people except when they take me for granted and presume that I would not be able to differentiate genuine affinity from affected opportunism.
I am little too touchy about being a 'thinking' gay who unlike his straight counterparts retains his aesthetic sensibilities, in simpler terms- does not deny his sexuality a chance to express itself in his tastes
Lastly, as the Loreal ad says, I am very demanding when it comes to MEN. It works the opposite way for me. The longer I have been away from something, My craving gets bigger and I will only want the best, and nothing 'short' than that.

My distant encounter with page 3

2008-02-26T18:07:00.003+05:30

One of the many stupid things that I do in the course of the day is to read Delhi Times, simply for lack of any better activity in the morning while I am yet to come past my slumber, which as many critics denounce is full of P3P coverage. I kinda glance over that section, hoping to one day meet people featured who inevitably are very "handsome" on an accidental encounter. Hehe, that's not crime, it's all just in me Imagination. Sadly.

So, imagine my surprise, when I find myself witnessing the post party celebration. Well, not exactly. It so happened that all those people were returning from one Big fat Indian Wedding that is touted as wedding of the year by many. Yes, I talking about the wedding of daughter of Praful Patel, civil aviation minister which took place this Sunday and I go a chance at the Delhi airport to see who's who of town returning from the do. All big political heavyweights were there, mostly old and boring, but what the heck, I gotta see them. So here goes list. ohh..never mind. i wont bore you with people from politics, the only solace of the evening while I waited for my guest to arrive was Sameera reddy with sister Sushma in tow. Man, she was hot...if a gay man like me couldn't stop staring at her, I can only imagine what she does to others. But, what intrigued me was that she was fairly 'fair' by all indian standards, and it was not her make up. Trust me on that. I don't know why indian media portrays her as dusky beauty. she looked resplendent in golden yellow sari with silver zari work. Shushma was dressed more casually, wearing jeans and jackets . ( I think she must have performed at the event)
And there was some gay designer kinda chap with both the beauties. Now, you'd have to trust me on this :)
No hot men, not even one single man. My bad luck. I don't know why it doesn't surprise me any more.

What you should not do in a clinic!!

2008-02-22T23:17:00.003+05:30

Strange things keep happening to me. Some of them might not be strange to most of the 'normal' people but I am what I am. Strange. Complicated.

Right now, I am very content. I don't know whether it is the long hours that I had I put at office, or the simple meal I ate tonight. Or may be I skipped my workout, but that should have made me feel guilt ridden and unhappy. Speaking of which, last weekend I had to go to a doctor's clinic. Normally, I don't like being kept waiting, even more when I have taken prior appointments, however places where they have lots of magazines that I normally wouldn't buy make me sit there longer and wish for my turn to come a little late. So, here I was sifting through pages of femina ( must have been four-five years since I picked up last copy) and then realized they have a full men's section. Now, I can buy these magazines without feeling 'queer'. So, page after page, there were men. Good looking, muscle bodied men advertising things that I don't need, however, within few minutes I realized I was wrong. I needed all those shoes, shirts, belts, sun glasses, moisturizers. And the weirdest thing, or the most normal - take your pick, I wanted all those men. It took me no time to come to conclude how fucked up my life is. I don't have six pack abs, neither I have a 'hot' boyfriend. No arm candy to strut around. Needless to say I was depressed.

I wonder why these women magazines have started carrying sections on men. What has changed so radically in the last few years that suddenly women have developed this itch to 'groom' their boyfriends/ husbands. I think they just want like me who want to feel about themselves after looking at their pages. It's a cruel cruel world.

Now, I think I must start looking for interesting dates ( there are none, I know. But I am young and I watch chick-flicks).

Have a nice,hmm, let's make it fun filled weekend!!

Things that my parents told me that they shouldn't have

2008-02-21T00:07:00.004+05:30

I love doing those home truths series. I think I don't have to think much while writing them. And the best part is they are very spicy, and the worst part is I didn't realize they were happening to me

Wife of my father's colleague telling my mother that her husband doesn't sleep with her. Which my mother was too happy to share with all and sundry she knew - not realizing the presence of over inquisitive children like me. I took me several months to realize what that lady meant by not having her husband sleeping with her. ( They had had six kids and poor man had not heard of contraceptives)

My mother muttering to herself when we were walking back home that the two lady tailors in the neighborhood shop were 'homosex' ( sic) after they had nicked some of the cloth and made her blouse little too tight. I had to ask her then and there what this word meant and to my surprise she told me.

will add a few more..

Somethings never change

2008-02-06T12:34:00.001+05:30

I am a moron. Yes, I know it for sure. There are so many things that I had written I had got to know in the course of events of last year. Yet, the list is never complete. I keep discovering sources of moronic disposition and get mortified in their manifestations. I had unconsciously taken a vow that I would avoid writing about my infatuation/love/ sex life in my blogs. Speaking of which reminds me of the seven stage of love in urdu poetry. Hub, Uns, Ishq, Aqidat, Ibadat, Junoon, Maut roughly translated as Attraction/Infatuation/ Reverence/Worship/ Obsession/Death..Wait did I miss something? where is sex in this whole chain of events. I really wonder considering the prevalence of homosexuality in Arab world, how were they able to circumvent this whole thing.

Now, I realize I don't have much to add to this post. So I will write a few random things, I think that is far easier than any kind of false structuring of thoughts.

It's very hard for me to believe when someone compliments me. Be it professionally or personally. I have started to accept my merit when it comes to my professional expertise and how I am not among the above average performers. however, when it comes to my personality and looks i am terribly insecure. I think something take time t erase from your mind, like I still have not come to terms with my toned body. I was never obese, just a little extra flab around my belly and cheeks. I have realized one thing that Delhi men without exception fall for a 'gym toned' body. I never started my workout routines with an eye on how I may be able to hook up more. It was my attention diverting technique from things around me. Now, I think I have flab pretty much under control, though there is still a long way to become a Salman Khan. But, I am not in a hurry. I am not doing this to prove anything to anyone. Not even to myself.

P.S. It's a Saturday morning and weekend has started. I have no clue what I am gonna do. There are no interesting people to meet, let alone dates. February sun is shining and telling you spring has arrived. But I am alone. As always.

I know what I know

2008-01-15T12:58:00.000+05:30

So here we are, in a new year and blah, blah..Time again for all those phony things about doing this, that and doing him/her. I need to find something amusing, something that can sustain my interest for long. Something, that gives me succor. Does that thing really exist??
Now, I know a few more things about myself. I am more sure of myself and not too shy to express my displeasure when things don't turn out the way I expected them to be. However, I still have not reached a stage where I care a damn about the world or what other's think. One day I will. I promise to myself.

I know that I like outdoors more than indoors. I like bright sunshine day with lots of greenery around me. January is not that in this regard in Delhi though I hardly get to go out in the day time.

I know that I am not that ugly as I used to think of myself. I do a have a poor self image when it comes to my looks, but that is compensated by the fact that I am surrounded by people whose knowledge of stuff begins and ends with Delhi Times.

I know that what is the difference between acquaintance, good friend and best friends. I know with whom I feel completely comfortable and relaxed and where I don't have to put on a show.

and most importantly, I know that I can not love a woman. Ever.

Grandmother's tales

2007-11-24T23:44:00.000+05:30

As a kid, every time the school reopened after summer vacation- each kid had some story or the other to tell involving his grandmother. Rather, for most of the children, a summer vacation was synonymous with a visit to their maternal grandparents home, the only time their mother ( all of them housewives without exception) could take a break , go to her parents home and do nothing for that period which in other words meant running havoc on their sister in law's who would do all the household chores). Anyways, now these trips were always filled with how their grandmother told them many stories, sent to mango orchards and got them new clothes etc etc. I would listen to all this intently and recount a few stories of my own. Though, my friends at that time were as ignorant about Kerala as an average adult Indian is about mizoram now, I never had to invent things. We had a surrogate grandparents. ( I know how it sounds but this, but as a kid I never cared as long as I was getting to listen to all the stories, eating raw mangoes and swimming in the village canal). However, whenever the subject veered towards grandmas I felt little cagey. I did not know how illustrious her life was at that young age, so I did not know what was making me feeling ashamed.

My first memory of her was when I was very sick at very young age, may be as a two or three year old. We had gone for our once in a blue moon kerala trip and I fell terribly sick, which my mother told me later was a regular thing at that time of year. In fact, my first memory of my life is that incident when my mother with my naani took me to a doctor in a white ambassador. I must have recovered, or so I think. But, that memory has lingered on.

My maternal grandmother had a shop, and she was called 'Kadeamma' by all the people in the town. 'Kade' means a shop in malayalam, and I was told it was a small shanty- thatched with coconut leaves, mud floor, a few banana bunches hanging. I am not too sure what she actually sold in this shop but my mother told me it was a tea shop- where people would gather to have a sip of tea or 'kaapi', and lustfully look at the woman in her mundu and blouse covered with a thin cotton cloth ( All malayalees are lechers, including me). Another factor, perhaps, that brought more visitors to her shop was her infamous toddy which she used to brew illegally and sold at evening to midnight to keep her 'real' clientèle happy.

My grandma had a young paramour of hers, who used to visit her often. I must have been some seven or eight years old when I visited her, and her romance was in full swing with this young lad. ( not so young though, must be some 15 years younger than her). My grandmother had a separate house to herself which was around 5o feet away from the house we stayed in. I used to listen to all the talk about her ongoing love affair, but sadly couldn't make much of it because it was all in malyalam. It appeared, all our neighbours and relatives disproved of this relationship however mutually satisfying it was for them.

The next thing I know is that my mother got hold of the news that my naani and her young lover are ensconced in the cottage away from home- in broad day light- a not so secret meeting perhaps. They all started shouting, and threating to burn the house if he doesn't come out. ( I don't think they were serious about it). But the poor fellow had to come out at some point or the other, and had to face those bullies-- chief among them my Mom who if I remember correctly was wielding a stone in her hand to throw. Great commotion followed the moment the guy came out and all I remember now is that he was severely beaten by everyone. I might also have kicked him as it was all part of fun where one got beaten if one did. I had no idea then what the fuss was all about ( In retrospect, I feel it was a clever decision on my mother's part not to teach us malyalam-- we would have absorbed much more than she wished for on our Kerala trips). The funniest moment came when his clothes were torn. Not much of clothes there as he was wearing a lungi and shirt.

In our family, we often used to joke about my naani's whereabouts. She had spent some two three years in jail - on and off- on charges of illegal liqueur making. I wanted to learn the art so that I can pass as an authentic sommelier myself, but sadly her tenure didn't let me. Though, I must add, no one ever died after consuming her alcohol.

Recently I was watching the movie "Talk to Her" by Pedro Almodovar where the protagonist spends twenty years of his life taking care of his mother. And these twenty years were his formative years when he did his home schooling; and later on enrolled for private schools and completed his studies. On being asked, whether he felt he lived a normal life he answers in affirmative. What is abnormal for most people becomes very normal for whom it is their life.

I have somewhere heard that a family which does not embarrass you is not worth having. I don't know if I could ever talk about these things in public or with my friends. I don't know how many of friends had their naani serving in jail, cavorting with young guys and selling kaapi in a road side stall, but I find it more amusing than abnormal. because when you live your life everything becomes your own, very normal and mundane.

Laugh like a man!!

2007-11-10T11:59:00.000+05:30

I have a secret. Not much a secret, but a tiny little detail about me which I am too embarrassed to share with others. Now, I tend to believe that every mortal has one nagging habit or other that she is cagey about letting other people know, but what are some of those things. But, this irritating habit of mine has put me in enough problems already and, I have noticed a pattern. I do it when I get nervous. Now, I am curious to know what others do when they get nervous. so a few comments might help :)

I laugh. Yea, that's what I do when I get real nervous. I don't know how it all started. Perhaps, it started when someone told me that I look much better while smiling, the other thing that they told me that I had really thick lips and it looked hideous ( Which, now I have come to realize is what people pay exorbitant price in cosmetic surgery clinics for getting the "Jolie" look). So, I have stopped smiling the way I used to in my childhood but I have perfected the art of pouting without people knowing that it's a pout -- similar to the way, I have been tucking my stomach for all my life so that it looks almost flat. Despite my perennial pout, I started to break into laughter when I realized that I must turn myself into "happy go lucky" person. This happy go luck state also stayed for along time and left me with propensity to laugh at most inopportune moments. Sample this-- at my gym, my trained has handed me a difficult weight and in the middle of the set when i am not able to continue, instead of growling in pain I laugh. You may find it amusing but not my trainer, who must think what an imbecile person I am. My boss told me that the last assignment was not up to the mark, and I LAUGHED. ( though later on, looking at his reaction I did feel like laughing). I laughed when a friend told me that his mother was critically ill, I laughed when my colleague asked me if I ever had any body massage ( Did he know that I was gay? was what I feared ), I laughed when my neighbours told me that in our absence a thief had broken into our home..so the list is endless.

So, what's your secret?

Silence

2007-11-06T23:56:00.000+05:30

My first short story, nothing too great but I guess writing 55 words a day will keep me in good spirits. Yea, but only if I write happy stories, or knew to write.

Silence
She knew her mother was dead. No one has told her this yet, but she can tell this from her husband's guilt. Sitting across her in the train casting furtive glances sideways. The silence said it all. Silence within the din of railway stations and moving train was enough. Enough to wail in her sorrow, silently.

Kaheen D'Aag lage lag jaye!

2007-10-26T11:36:00.000+05:30

Though, it's more than two weeks since Laaga Chunari mein daag has been released, and it might be redundant to speak about it now; I find it imperative to speak about some of the issues about the movie which critics and audience have both disowned.

As director Pradeep Sarkar himself said that predicting the story line and its flow within 20 minutes of watching the film was certainly a no brainer, and it was all too evident from the promos itself what the story would be. So, whoever entered the theater hoping to catch more of 'Natasha' than 'Vibha' was sorely disappointed after not getting to see Rani Mukherjee in Neha 'Julie' Dhupia mode, mouthing suggestive dialogs .

The second grouse against the movie was it's poor acting by Rani and 'over' acting by Jaya Bachchan. I, hereby, must it make it very clear that unlike many others; I don't hold Jaya Bachchan's acting capability in high regard. To me she has been very repetitive in her expressions, always chose a certain kind of roles which suited her persona and she got lucky with a few roles where she excelled because either the director was as brillant as hrishikesh mukherjee or gulzar. However, I had to eat my words when I saw her perform in this film. She played a hapless mother torn between her ailing frustrated husband and daughter gone astray. Critics were unanimous to declare her performance a fixed expression wonder- perpetually carrying a scowl on face with epileptic facial movements. To say such a thing is real absurd, and I term this insolence as nothing but ignorance on part of critics having never stepped out of their bombay glass houses. I was so amazed to the subtleties she brought to her performance, her body language and expressions was something that I had encountered in thousands of women in UP. Shahrukh Khan whose expressions and body language have never changed in any film irrespective of the fact whether he was playing a bengali drunkard or a football coach in Newyork, yet crtics go ga- ga over him. So when I see somebody at least attempting to bring a realistic touch by changing their body language or accent-- which does not happen very often--it shows there is still hope for some acting in bollywood. Jaya Bachchan's stint in UP politics and her association must have brought her in contact with such women, and I must say she has done a good job of it, which could have become a caricature of sorts if handled ineptly by a lesser actress.

Now, if we come to Rani who is a fine actress and brings a certain honesty to her roles, has not let down her fans by a poor performance. She was dependable and good in most of her scenes. However, The toast of the critic was Koko. I have mentioned in my previous post that I feel that she is the best actress in India right now. But, certainly this was not her best role, and one does not have to bring down Rani by being effusive about the other actress who in her own wayz was extremely good.

Btw, if anyone has still not figured out, I didn't like the movie myself. And I know who is to blame. It was Pradeep Sarkaar who could not bring any freshness to the old story, the way he had done with Parineeta. Or, perhaps he was too lost in making the shots look too perfect that he forgot about the story and emotional graph. In todays time, if you bring a good set of technicians they will make sure the aesthetics are in place, and a Director must never forget what his job is all about.

Melonchalic Madness

2007-10-13T13:09:00.000+05:30

It's weird. In fact, I feel it's very weird that I am having some kinda ostrich burying her head in sands thing. I am avoiding happy people, or perhaps I have been avoiding happy people for years.

There was a time when I despite being sad, used to feel happy about other's happiness. Maybe feeling happy myself for their happiness. But, now I treat happiness as some sort of sin. For me, being happy is crime and when I look at seemingly happy people, the first thing I try to look for some hint of concealment of their sadness, as it has become impossible for me to believe people can be happy.

Last few years have been very tough on me, where each day came with a new set of problems surmounting the previous one. Each night before going to sleep, I used to tell myself it couldn't get any worse, knowing well in advance-from my past experience- that things are going to get exactly opposite of what I expect. I considered myself as a brave roman warrior, taking on challenges one after another, in isolation and clandestine. There were things that I couldn't share with my friends or family, without belittling my own sense of pride of bearing it all alone. And more importantly, I never expected people to understand what it actually was.

Now, when that period is over, scars are left -- hidden and deep -- and I look seemingly happy to others. I got most of the things I wanted from my life, leaving behind things that I always felt will be there for me. And , now, when they are not there for me, I have nothing but to ruminate over the bargain I made with life.

A little note to Chrisann, I have not been reading your blog -- I am scared even to open that page, thinking it will be too bright and sunny for me -- it's so strange that I am avoiding people on blogs too..May be, you have a theory to explain my behavior!!

Home Truths part II

2007-10-09T12:17:00.001+05:30

After my last post, I have suddenly discovered writing about 'home truths' is as much fun as reading them in assorted magazines ( One of my favorite section in any magazine, specially the seedy hindi type)..Last night when I hit bed, the only time when my starts thinking coherently - for too little time, as I get too tired on a regular day - I started thinking about the life I led as a child. Today, when I look around and see parents going out of their way to manage the lives of their kids, I envy, at the same time, feel blessed not have such haranguing parents. More importantly, as a kid, I always used to think, my life is devoid of any color and fun. I used to hear people talking about city life and the range of activities it offers. It was all so enticing at that time, and I used to feel so cheated as to why on earth I have to live in a town where people have no culture, social life or scandals.

Scandals: Interesting word. Life is what happens to you, when you are busy making other plans. Little did I know, that the life I am leading has scandals all around. ( When I look back, I feel there so many scandals all around me that I can guest write a few episodes of Desperate Housewives, and may be better than what their writers do.) But, the amazing part is that I never got any sugarcoated/ simplified version of things that might suit a child's wild imagination, as parents of today like to believe that they have to protect their child from all such gyans. but, not the people I knew of. They were blase and open about it, even discussing it in front of the children ( with careful selection of words, so not to give much, but I was smarter than they thought). Today I can see that they did not wear their morality on their sleeves, They all knew that everyone is upto something and the best policy is to live and let live, instead off making a huge tamasha of the whole thing. So, adultery, pedophilia, bestiality, suicides and homosexuality were the staple affairs of the people where I grew up with.

Speaking of homosexuality, let me recall the first gay couple I knew of. I must have been some seven or eight years old, and used to play with all the kids from the colony where I lived. There were different informal groups where kids of certain age used to play together, me too playing with kids of the same age bracket. I saw a young boy, barely sixteen or seventeen, who started coming to play with us. He was tall , good looking and wore stylish clothes ( That included wearing crochet vests-so popular with Muslim folks then, and perhaps Mithun Chakravarti had worn them at that time in one his movies- which show more of your body than cover it). To add to his charm was, the cigarettes that he used to smoke. the fact that he was young and could smoke so freely in front of others fascinated me a lot. For me it was some kind of independence assertion. However, the fact that he smoked made him a pariah for at least me. ( Thinking of it now, it amuses me the reasoning of mother that smoking is so much worse than being gay). So, I had been told not to get much close to him lest he offers me something to chew/ eat or smoke ( I realize now he had other things than cigarettes he could have offered). But the point is, this fellow, Hassan, perhaps this was his name, was not from the colony and had a openly gay relationship with one of its inhabitants. The paramour of Hassan was no less extra ordinary. To begin with, he must have been of fifty at that time with a wife, around three or four kids and two grandchildren and a daughter- in -law, all living under the same one room house. His youngest son, who was not more than three-four year old than me, used to come to our house and played with me often. I still remember him telling my mom that Hassan lived like his mom in their household. I could not get this expression and wondered how this guy, all masculine and manly, be living like his mom who always wears saris and makeup. It baffled me, but not for long. Birds and bees were in the offing, and with my acquired knowledge I could put two and two together. What, till today, intrigues me is the acceptance of their relationship by his wife, his family and the society at large. Today, when gay people feel discrimination, persecution and are often butt of joke in raunchy hindi movies, I am often reminded of this episode, how in the heart of small town India, people accepted such a thing without fuss and let others live their life. And yea, they did gossip ..as it was the only thing that gave them succor from their daily grind, but moral policing. No, that was not their game!!

Shall I say Home Truths?

2007-10-08T11:43:00.001+05:30

I am trying to write about my father, who is right now sitting in the next room trying to watch third India Australia ODI with undiminished enthusiasm, inspite of constant wicket fall on Indian side. I had promised Fortunata that I will write about my father in my next post, but later on I realized that it will be so much difficult to even give a snapshot of his personality in some 800 words. But, surely, I will try.

He was the person who married my mom and brought me and my sister to this earth. The reason I am stating this fact is that it was no ordinary arrangement. The marriage was his second and first for my mother. There are different versions of the story told by different people on why they got married. Different reasons and rationalization were handed out to explain this unlikely match. I still have not been able to collate all versions together and form an arc. I think Love Marriage is what people used to call this arrangement in places I grew up, and it was sacrilegious and forbidden for most of them. I was so much embarrassed by this word: love marriage. Everybody felt, at the time of their liaison, that it was nothing out of place. Many others have done this in the past and many will do, and it is just a matter of time before he leaves her for his 'legitimate' wife.

Our lives were in a constant state of paranoia, what if he actually does it, leaving two children with a woman with no income or fortune or a home to return to.

But, he never did it. And yes, I am thankful to him for that.

Brothers and Sisters

2007-09-28T15:29:00.000+05:30

I am not a professional TV reviewer, neither am I in nay way connected with scripting, dialogue writing or acting departments of soaps ( though I wish I could, but alas, there are as many things one can do in one's life), but I am all for quality TV watching. With all the free available time at my disposal, I am quite a keen TV watcher. Now, there was a soap, which was high on my wish list, and which I couldn't watch much because my hard-disk was full with all the three season of Grey's anatomy. The show was Brothers and Sisters. Now, god bless teh souls at Star Word wo decided to air this shown in India. The show has a stellar cast and two of favorite actresses viz Sally Fied and Calsita Flockheart. Calista is seen after her long hiatus, and with old episodes of Ally Mcbeal airing on Zee Cafe, it certainly has added to my fondness for her.

Brothers and Sisters is an altogether different show produced by the same guys as 'Alias', though it does feature a few actors from 'Alias' in important roles. And, yes, I almost forgot, the most important fact that it has a lead character playing a gay attorney. I know, it's so hard to get the above combination of gay + attorney ( anything related to do with brains in INDIA, If any guy disagrees and has brains, kindly drop me a message) when all the people who you meet either turn out to be working in a BPO or some shoddy fashion House. Speaking of fashion houses, I had watched entire jassi, and let me tell you that, I had huge expectations from Ugly Betty but it was such a damp squib. Jassi was much more interesting and entertaining. On the other hand, Ugly Betty looks like one of our saas -bahu soaps where a mystery woman schemes and plots to upstage the hero..so very balaji..they must sue these people.

So, I was talking about this whole Brother's and Sisters, and the reasons I like the show. First reason is that they shot in LA. Ohh, I love California weather and the whole sunny side of things..You don't get to see a single ugly frame. Secondly, I love families. I just love the fact that despite getting angry, fighting over, calling each other name, there will remain people who don't stop loving you. It sound so cliched, but to emphsize my point, one really realizes its importance when you don't have anybody to fight with, knowing that they will be there for you despite all that. Thirdly, I love Calista Flockheart ( I still don't know if I have got her name's spelling right. Google will be too much of a bother). She does not play Ally Mcbeal, but it'd hard to miss traces of here Mcbeal days. especially when she starts speaking real fast, and gets edgy about her relationships. she is a lovely actress, and I 'd like to see more of her..A little digression, Calista Flockheart auditioned for Teri hatcher's role in Desperate Housewives. I am glad that she didn't do that role, coz Teri is just so perfect.

Now comes the real clincher, the gay brother of Calsita, I don't like him per se ( in the sense I am not over the moon over him). But, it is such a relief to see someone playing gay role in a not stereotypical profession. He is not he best looking guy around, but its not as if you would not notice him if he were in a room. I know, I am sounding a little desperate housewives myself..maybe this obsession has been rubbed off from too much of ally Mcbeal,But who cares..I jsut wish there were more interesting people in this world.
ahhh..where are you, My Mr Right

Lessons from the past

2007-09-07T15:30:00.003+05:30

I recently finished reading 'Half of a Yellow Sun' by Chiamanda Ngozi Adichie. Having no background in African history or history of colonialism, I had picked up the book randomly. Now, I am glad that I picked up this book and got a different perspective on India and Pakistan because our situation was not much different at the time of partition, from what Nigeria had to face, albeit ten years later. The story is as relevant today as at any other time, where different vested interest want to break apart the country on religious, castiest, and regional lines.

For most of us in the Indian subcontinent, colonialism primarily meant our two hundred years of British rule and the adversity faced, or the painful partition independence brought upon. It was not so different for Nigeria, when it got it independence from British in 1960. The book details what a country afflicted by all the maladies that a newly found independent state would face after a prolonged colonial rule. This gives us an interesting perspective to compare the situation of Nigeria with India and Pakistan. Nigeria faced the same problem of religious and ethnic divide at the time of its independence. There were many tribes - Christian Igbo and Muslims Hausa - wanting to upstage the other while making sure their own tribe prosper. The civilian government was ousted and two Military coup followed by killings of thousands of innocent people. Igbo dominated south western Nigeria claimed independence, and created a new state named Biafra. Biafra was not recognized by other African countries except for few, and Nigerian government came down heavily on rebels and a lengthy civil war was started which took as many life from hunger as from bullets and air raids. Food supply was cut off and a whole generation was conscripted to achieve the freedom from enemy state. This war gave malnutrition a new meaning, and kwashiorkor- a condition caused by severe malnutrition- thousand of faces. In the end, Biafra lost and more than a million lives were lost.

I think there are so many lessons for each of us. The futility of war cannot be overemphasized, and today when India and Pakistan are both witnessing dissent from far flung corners for autonomy and self rule, it gives us a vantage point to look at their demands. North East has still remained a place far removed from politics of delhi and even after sixty years many people from mainstream India find it hard to accept them as anything but chinky. We had had secessionist movement in punjab and kashmir which took many lives and continues to do so. Why is is so hard for people to acknowledge the presence of other and prosper with them. The answers are not so difficult to find, if we care to look around.

Hindus & Muslims: Why we are more similar than different

2007-08-29T23:37:00.000+05:30

I recently wrote a long rebuttal to a Pakistani journalist's article proclaiming Indian intellectuals can't accept Pakistan, only to later feel that I might have been a little jingoistic in my response. I absolutely agree that there are sections of Indians who feel that way, but to term an entire community, or so called liberal Indian intelligentsia, Anti-Muslim would be preposterous.

This has reminded me so many incidents from my life where I, as part of growing Indian middle class, faced people with varying degree of paranoia against muslims. Having grown up in a libearal environment, my parents never instilled any anti-muslim sentiments in my mind, whereas everywhere else I found that hindu children are told vicious things by parents about their muslim counterparts. Here I have tried to list down some of the misinformation fed to the children from a young age, which later perhaps shapes their perception of the community:
( based on my experience of growing up in small town north India)

Muslims are the filthiest creatures to be found. They take bath only on friday, the day of prayer, and they make do with their customary 'wuzu' (ablutions) for rest of the days. And not to forget, they hardly ever change or wash their clothes.
All muslims are incestuous. They don't value any sisterly or filial relationships and can be betrothed to even their step-mother.
Muslims are very cruel, they have no feelings and in the event of slightest tiff, they will chop you like a butcher the moment they seize you . And muslim women are not far behind, they too can make a barrah kabab out of you single handedly with their knives in times of riots.
They have no culture, tradition or customs. They will keep four wives and divorce their wife whenever they wish.
Muslims can never be trusted, they would never fight shy of backstabbing at first available opportunity.

Now, these reasons are adequate enough to create a distorted picture in the impressionable young minds, but not enough to clamp down young childhood friendships. Inspite of all the misgivings parents or society tried to inculcate among my friends, none of them ever had any reservation in sharing our study notes or lunch boxes. I don't know how many of them feel the same way about muslims now, but I am very sure it must not be very different from what it used to be.

Eastern Uttar Pradesh, the place where I grew up, was once famous for it's ganga-jamuni tehzeeb, the camaraderie between different faiths and harmonious, peaceful co-existence.This, coupled with liberal attitude of my envioronment, led me to be enchanted by the wonderful cultural heritage I was exposed to. I looked forward to month of ramzaan much more than Holi or Deewali because unlike a single day of celebration, it brought steady stream of muslim delicacies in the form of iftaari for one whole month. Muhaaram was not far behind in my scheme of things, where I would listen to all the marsias and wait for the hissa, the food item given at the end of the majlis. I used to go to mosques and dargaahs with same reverence as to the temples every year before examination results were to be announced. ( Even today, I feel muslim dargah are quicker in listening to your wishes and granting them than hindu gods)

Cut to year 2006, while travelling through busy lanes of bangalore, my fairly liberal, educated, broadminded friend becomes wary of driving in a muslim ghetto. His fears are same. He feels he will be killed if he accidentally even just touches a kid running on the road. I prod him to know more about his paranoia and he gives me the same answers: how muslims are brute, and killing people is in their blood, they have no compunction while butchering people. When I remind him of the atrocities perpetrated by hindus in gujrat riots, he gets dismissive of it as a retaliatory action.

My arguments could not convince him on that day that there can be a non-violent muslim, and I had to give up. I normally don't try to act as an intellectual, liberal champion of muslim cause. But in his case, I was deeply hurt. I never expected somebody of his class, intelligence and awareness to be so rigid in his view of his muslims, and he never believed in right wing politics of BJP. I later realized that it was not his fault that he had not come across any muslim who challenged his set perception of muslims. Those beliefs were perpetuated in his mind by mass media where all terrorist activities are brandished as muslim handiwork.

As mentioned in the article by Mr. Ramchandra Guha, in whose response, the piece of Writing that I responded to was written; people who migrated from pakistan at the time of partition are most resentful of muslims. They see them as the reason they were displaced, and hold them responsible for everything they went through. Political parties have exploited this sentiment and used it to rouse people against each other. It has become another 'us' versus 'them'. When I look back, I find not 'them'. We were all 'us' and hope to continue to remain so.

In his particularly relavant book on this subject, Identity and Violence, Prof. Amartya Sen discusses the same nature of commonality which bonds people of different faiths. Dismemberment of Bangladesh is a case in point that religion alone cannot keep people united. I just wish more people become curious to find commonalities than differences among muslims of today's india and see that we are more similar to them than what is projected by political parties.

P.S. Some people might get confused as to how it is possible to be friends with muslims and all that ganga-jamuni tehzeeb remains intact, when such a malicious traits are attributed to muslim. The list of virtues ascribed to muslims are part of a folklore which gets passed down to different generation, and everyone renounces them when they see muslims are not what is projected of them, because they get chance to be frinds with them, study with them and interact with them, unlike living in a ghettoized envioronment

Who is the 'fairest' among all

2007-08-26T17:20:00.000+05:30

Koffee with Karan is quite a popular show on Star World and the best part of the show is that you not only get A-line celebrities ( except for an episode featuring Ektaa Kapoor and her harem of Men from K-Serials. And before you scream- Rakhi Sawant, let me say, though she is not intellectual and all, she is a loved by masses who love her as much for her crassness as for her antics). The section which is most talked about in the show, or often more controversial than others is 'Rapid Fire' round, where the host asks the guest questions in rapid succession and expects some masaaledar fiery answers.

Now, one of the most frequent questions which is put across to the guests has been: " who is the best actress- Rani, Kajol or Aishwarya?". The answers have been varied and most guest choosing between Rani or Kajol, leaving Aish behind, and if I can make a rough approximations Rani would have got 40% compared to Kajol's 60%. A few weeks back, the show featured Javed Akhtar and Shabana Azami and they were asked the same question. I don't recall Javed Akhtar's response but Shabana was quite quick and convinced in her response when she chose an actress out of the troika. "Konkona Sen Sharma", said Shabana , in her characteristic equanimity, without batting an eyelid while answering the question. This answer really got me thinking. Who is the the best actress today in Indian Cinema, and fortunately I seem to be in agreement with Shabana here.

Konkana Sen Sharma won best actress national award for ' Mr & Ms Iyer' in 2002; and I, for yet not having seen the movie, felt that there again goes story of daughter of an established art house director, having considerable influence over the jury who got the best actress award favored to her daughter, much in the same way people accused Saif Ali Khan for having snatched Best actor for Hum Tum under the aegis of her mother Sharmila Tagore. In retrospect, I feel my reservation over Konkona had much more to do with my Indian sensibilities which smells a rat every time somebody with illustrious parents excels in the fields they choose, rather than some obscure underdog winning the coveted prize from hinterlands ( How many of us raised eyebrows when Meera Jasmine won in 2004).

I feel utterly humbled later on by her acting prowess when she slipped easily into varied characters one after another such as a tamilian Iyer housewife to mother of a young child inclined to 'swing' in 'Mixed Doubles' to that of a 30+ virgin in Life in a Metro..But for me, her most lovable performance was in 'Omkara' where she played a village belle to perfection. Though, each character stood out in that movie, however, she remains my personal favorite. Her diction, body language and expression transported me to western Uttar Pradesh. Now, there is a woman who is unfazed by the presence of bigger stars like kareena in Omkaara , Rani in Laaga Chunari Mein Daag ( where reports suggest that she is taking extra care in the presence of best actress of India currently to save her reputation of being queen bee of hindi films) or with Madhuri in Aaja nachle.
An overlooked perfomance of hers in Yun hota to kya hota directed by Naseerudin Shah, where he rightly acknowledged her to be THE BEST actress in India today, should also be mentioned to highlight her versatilty. Without doubt, she is not the best looking actress around, but having said that, her acting makes up for more than how she looks. And needless to add, I am a Big fan of hers!

Chak De!

2007-08-21T11:41:00.000+05:30

I don't often watch hindi movies, but my bored life sometimes forces me to watch one, that too, all alone. Having said that, let me add, I like watching movies. Usually, the kind of movies I watch are not appreciated by people I have for company. So, I watch them all alone, without getting distracted by distraction of my fellow moviewatcher by the designer clothes or lack of them, or finding something funny in serious scenes. So, I went out and watched two movies this weekend in quick succession.

The first movie, Chak de India, was not a movie I would have gone on a normal day. Firstly, I am not too fond of Shahrukh Khan's acting abilities, and not at all fond of his looks ( He looks like a hanger in his new lean look, What's up with these oldies, I say? I just hope that he is not taking a leaf out of Shekhar Suman's book, where he, like Shahrukh, has gone popla without shedding his teeth). And let me also add a completely extraneous statement that I was not swayed by the fact it had 16 girls playing hockey players. ( Would have been different if it had 16 male hockey players like Vivan Bhatena, He was such a cute prick in the movie). It is often said that the best way to enjoy a movie is to go without any expectation and form your opinion only after you have seen the movie. This has been proved so true in this case that I had to swallow all my misgivings about this movie. The story line and everything was dissected, and was all over the news, therefore I had a fair idea what was in store. But surprised I was, when I saw the final product. Shahrukh khan for once was restrained and did not get to twist his lips, or shed copious tears while shaking his neck the way he does when he loses his heroine. All the girls were perfectly cast and showed decent acting abilities, while dribbling the hockey stick, which by no means would have been easy.

The best part of movie was its taut screenplay and editing, Shimit Amin himself being an ex-editor would have certainly helped here. Much to my chagrin, I enjoyed the movie so much so that I even fancied Sagarika Ghatge playing the role of Preeti Sabharwal. Kudos to Jaideep Sahni and Aditya Chopra for having conceived such a film and bringing it to us, without having to worry about commercial viabilty of a movie centering around women Hockey. Jaideep, who also helms the dialogue and lyrics of the movies has brought out the character sketches beautifully. All in all, though it may been inspired by hollywood movie Miracle, yet it has been indianised so well that it makes every indian shout Chak De..India!! at the end.

2007-08-08T02:32:00.001+05:30

In Which I attend A dance school Part II

Well, the last post seemed more like-blowing my own trumpet kinda thing. But, Hey!! I do get such liberties on my blog. Though, the last post was about attending dance school, I had only described my visit to a school and dance was nowhere in picture. And, picture perfect it was: My dance instructor. Contrary to popular belief, when even my family thought I am going there for hook ups, I went to dance school purely to learn dance.

Having never moved a single muscle in my entire life, except those which are used for eating and sleeping, I was/am a pathetic dancer. Not taking things as they are is an old habit of mine, and I sought to change this by joining the dance academy. While I was keen on some Social Dancing ( according to their definition all form of dances where you have a partner are social dances: as if being single & gay is crime and unsocial), they refused to take me for lack of a partner. Hmm, I was on my dance instructor ( not literally). So, he cajoled me to join the so called Jazz dance classes ( not that he had to try much :)), and asked me to come at appointed hour. He looked quite promising while shaking his legs, and I happily signed wishing one day I will be making the same moves . The moment he saw me again next day, wearing a body clinging vest and very very tight lowers, he Flashed a big smile. And, there is was. An athletic lithe body with sweat beading drops all over his forehead, his sinuous hands curving like one of those undulated bolsters which had been subjected with a corpulent body. He welcomed us all and flashed a big smile. And for the first time, I saw it clearly: what I had been missing all along. He had the ugliest, the palest- or shall I call them brown- teeth in the universe. How could people take such simple things for granted, could he have not used a better toothbrush. Or what's these days wrong with our Babool, Close up, Colgate and Pepsodent. Why god has to make every nice looking bloke with a flaw that cannot be condoned.

Anyways, I even shudder to think how his breath will smell. Now, I am always keeping a safe distance and doing my routine correctly-as much as possible- so that he never comes to correct my position and I have to beat that sight again. Up, close, and not so personal!!

2007-08-02T17:33:00.000+05:30

In which I attend a Dance School

I hate it when I come to blog after a long time, and have a thousand things to say. In this flurry of outpouring all my thoughts at once, I usually get lost in my own web of words. While trying to keep it single & straight ( quite unlike me), why don't i give you an account of past week, though it was nothing but momentous.

After months of deliberations, where I was lost between the choice of learning a new language or a dance form, I opted for Learning dance. The choice was abetted by the fact of proximity of dance school to my place. So, when I decided to pay a visit to this famous dance school/ workshop, I had little idea that they conduct these classes in normal schools. In order to enroll myself, I visited these schools ( two of them ), and it was a very strange feeling. Stepping on to a world that I had left long back, when all memories of school were effectively erased from my overburdened mind, made me realize the increased emphasis parents put these days on good education. Having studied in government schools with almost no infrastructure and poor teaching, not to mention complete lack of extra curricular activities-though not much relevant, I saw my first library when I had finished my college-I was amazed to see the opportunities presented before a upper middle class kid. The school I went had AC classroom, wonderful computer labs, playground with assorted toys and other aids, and my favorite- the craft room ( though I suspect most of the craft projects were made by parents for their children). I used to be very bitter about having lost on going to 'elite' institutions, and often imagined how much more I could have achieved if I had got there. In retrospect, I feel the angst was misplaced. I still believe if one is good and passionate about something, nothing will come in one's way to achieve what one is capable of. I would have been more confident and more aware of my capabilities, had I joined such places. Nevertheless, exploring one's true potential without the help and support of a mentor or guide, makes one more confident than in the former case, where not only you realize your potential but also take pride in the fact that you have reached wherever you have, on your merit and perseverance. And trust me on this, it feels great to be in command of your destiny!

2007-07-25T12:18:00.000+05:30

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.

2007-07-12T11:50:00.000+05:30

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.

2007-07-08T00:55:00.000+05:30

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.

2007-07-06T15:44:00.000+05:30

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.

2007-07-05T12:30:00.000+05:30

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.

2007-07-05T11:55:00.000+05:30

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')

2007-07-02T12:24:00.000+05:30

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

2007-07-01T01:04:00.000+05:30

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."

2007-06-26T15:46:00.000+05:30

Money / Honey

The other day, while flipping through channels, I came across Ally Mcbeal-an Old favorite of mine. This particular episode had an interesting theme: Prostitution.
An ex-attorney is caught soliciting money for sex from a doctor who she had already bedded before. Though the episode had two themes running parallel viz. lack of available single, attractive men for dating, and what constitutes prostitution. It was the latter, that caught my fancy, with me bing too aware of shortage of single, attractive men.

The defendant, a client of Ally's law firm, testified that when she used to get so many offers from men, most of the time married and emotionally available, to sleep with her , while she waited for some nice, attractive, successful man who would also be into dating. on not getting her type of men, She changed her mind to sleep with them and earn a living out of it. Now, there does seem a logic. A successful, attractive woman deprived of dateble men, may seem desperate and jump the gun to get her goods.

The logic of defending her position was even more twisted. the argument presnted by the defence counsel is definately food for some thought

1) When hollywood actresses 'make love' on screen with their fellow actors, and get paid for it, does that not amount to prostitution?

2)When numerous women sleep with their bosses, clients, colleagues to step on the success ladder, while receiving favors, a raise, a promotion; which can be monetarily categorized, why don't we treat it as prostitution?

3)There are several women who will not date/marry/sleep with a man unless he earns a certain amount of money, is that not a form of prostitution?

Well, with me, I almost bought these arguments. But I do have a strict policy against paying for sex. I find it most reprehensible act, and a manifestation that I can't get men without my moolah, which is a really scary thought.

2007-06-20T16:52:00.000+05:30

Askewd

Do you ever feel the sting
of something happened in the past,
that completely numbs you,
wrenches your guts out,
makes you writhe in pain,
when you should have felt it,
many moons ago!!

2007-06-15T11:39:00.000+05:30

Earning the Laundry Stripes

Manreet sodhi's "earning the laundry stripes' can be described as 'unchhe dukan, pheeka pakwan' a hindi phrase literllay translted as "big cry. little wool". I was particularly disappointed with the book because it was my first book based on Indian Management schools and graduates. Though as an MBA aspirant we used to think that cracking the exam was the hardest part, but reality is very different as is described in this book.
This book as it chronicles the life of a management graduate 'Noor Bhalla', passing out from IIMC and then being the first woman to join the sales at HLL, much like the real life of its author, fails to strike the right notes.

There are many loopholes like why we never get to know about the Kalpana's MBA college when writer herself puts in very elaborately that in MBA hierarchy your status is judged by the college you are from. Apart from these small details, the most irritating thing I found about this book was its inane juxtaposing of serious issues with corny ones. Surely we don't need the details of the sex and stiffness of her male friends member in the same breath as Gujarat carnage. I think these new writers must learn a thing or two from Chetan Bhagat and why his '5 point something' was such a big hit. Answers are not that difficult to find and certainly not for an engineer and MBA ( at this point, I make it clear that I am an engineer and MBA myself). The subject, language and narrative of Chetan Bhagat's debut novel was very topical to the campus and the sensibilities of youth and it dared not to cross those limits. And here I thought Ms Sodhi knew a thing or two about target audience.

Only thing that remains back with you is her anecdotes from the corporate world which becomes little too cliched at times. And her description of rural India is condescending to say the least. Though at the end of the novel, author suddenly has this epiphany the she had a choice to make in her life and who she is today is a result of that. She makes no bones about making fun of people who eat, speak and pronounce differently than hers.

This book is too contrived and too cliched for any one who has ever been to a good B-School. B-School grads are not that clueless as Ms Sodhi paints us to be. And I hope that she bears this fact in her mind when she sets out to write her next book.

2007-06-15T00:16:00.000+05:30

Ok, So I have been reading
a lot of blogs.
And this writing style is
courtesy Chrisann.
It's no plagiarism
I just feel this style
suits my disjointed writing style.

I mentioned about reading.
Reading mostly Gay blogs
about being gay in India.
Mostly when I am working,
or rather when I should be working.
I get excited
at other people's conquests.
The whole story as to how easy
it is to get sex in gay kingdom.
How they met,
how did they pick each other,
how they did it,
where they did it,
how they forgot about it moments later
and went their own way.

Not as I am leading a saint's life.
I do get my share of "encounters".
I am not much into dating scene.
May be I am afraid of bad dates,
may be of rejection,
may be of the fear of my date not turning up.

What is the other way of meeting
other interesting men?
Dates who are not only good in bed
but can hold a conversation too.

Speaking of which, It's a peculiar thing.
Gay people's aversion to date with
guys with less than adequate ability to
comprehend or speak Queen's language.
Isn't it hypocritical of us to
look down upon someone just
because he is not very fluent,
or has some regional accent?
As CT puts it, he can't stand
guys who are too vernacular for him.
We all claim that we are not judgmental,
but are we not judging the person solely
on the basis of his linguistic ability.
Will these same guys not flirt with
a hot Spaniard even if he does not
speak a single word of English.
And what is the thing with the accents?
Why people categorize you 'ghaati'
or with other such epithets just because
you don't have a fake accent.

I ,for one, started learning the language
when I was doing my graduation.
Before this, I was too 'vernacular',
but now i realize it hasn't made
an iota of difference to
my thought process, my outlook
and the way I react to people and situations.
I am the same person when I used to speak
my mother tongue.
I may understand that people have
set attributes that they seek in their date.
But why be so rigid about something trivial
like this?

Ok, now the rant is almost over.
So I met this cute guy for a coffee date.
Before this we had spoken little on phone.
He said one his prime interest is reading.
I was more than delighted on
having found someone who reads beyond
'Dan Brown' and 'Robin Cook'.
Well, my hopes were not completely misplaced,
he arrived on time,
needless to add I was late and nervous
at my second coffee date.
He didn't run away,
neither did he make any faces,
on seeing me.
I was relived.
May be I am not that bad,
May be he is different
than other Delhi 'punju' boys
who look at only at how 'buffed' you are,
in case they are bottom,
or how 'cute' you are,
if they happen to be bottom.

This guy turned out to be a bottom.
So all my efforts of going
to gym for past two months
didn't go unnoticed.
and He could speak.
In english.
(Ha ha , I am contradicting myself)
Cute boy works in HR,
I just can't understand
what is the connection between
gay guys and HR.
Why are they always found in 'soft' work such as 'HR'.
Anyways, the date did go off well.
we might sometime in future
for a movie or some other kind of 'hang out'
Unfortunately, No Hanky-Panky.
We both do not have 'Place'.

2007-05-14T17:20:00.000+05:30

Life is never easy.
Thats what I always say.
I say it to get rid of the guilt
of not being perfect.
Being perfect is an illusion,
something that we can never be.
But what if you always have felt that you can be perfect
at least in some ways than others.

When i look back at my life,
I realize I have been a failure.
I wanted to term it complete failure
but there have been fields
where I have done relatively better.
The biggest failure, according to me
is not being able to measure upto yourself.
I feel I have failed in my responsibilities on every passing day.

I had to choose
between a person I loved and my career.
I chose my love and then career and then love.
It was cyclical but at one time,
probably at the most critical occasion,
when I needed to be with her side
I was ambivalent, unsure and torn apart.
Life does not give you many choices.
Things become clear in hindsight but right at that moment
when your eternally optimistic brain
hates to give up on either of them.
One has to make a hard choice.
And that choice I did make.
But the pain lingers on,
making me feel guilty that how could I have even lingered on about it.
Why was I not so sure to about my choices?
Why did I become so selfish
that it didn't occur to me that career can be resurrected
but not lives once when they are gone?

They say history repeats itself.
In my case it did repeat.
Now having been faced with this choice earlier,
it had not made any easier to take a decision
and being self-less creature.

2007-05-10T14:34:00.000+05:30

I laughed today..
So what, you might ask.
Well, yes. It's not a big deal to laugh.
However, when you don't remember the last time you laughed
it does become a momentous occasion.
there are several stories doing the rounds
as to how laughing improves your quality of life and relieves you of your stress.
And I concur.

In the last few days, I had forgotten to laugh.
To stop and take pleasure in small inanities of life
like cribbing your heart out on some trivial matter
or bitching about some person.
Now a person like me whose interest
in prurient matters has proved once again
that I have a raunchy sense of humor.
Today an unknown colleague who happen to sit beside me
was describing how an ayurvedic massage
in small loin cloth may disrobe him and his private parts
might be accessible to guys.
He also vividly described how the process
will take place with very effective gesticulations.
It was the thing that made me laugh like a lout
and now I am reminded of the last time I laughed like that.

2007-01-10T15:20:00.000+05:30

This is not the time for making New Year resolutions; neither had I displayed any tendency to keep my resolutions in my past if I had made any.

But this year is not like others. I am independent -personally and financially- and can follow my impulses. Speaking about impulses, there is not much fun in following impulses unless you know that you are flouting a rule or there is no one to stop you from doing it. I do miss being the innocent child I was.

Now coming back from my colorful past, (I lied when I wrote I had an innocent childhood) let me make a few resolutions.

My first resolution is to maintain fiscal discipline. My strategy of overspending and shopping my guts out so that I get bored of it has not yielded much result. On the contrary I have become a shopoholic whore who has to be taken on numerous sessions of retail therapy to come out of his ennui. Ok before I put this resolution in effect, why not fulfill my wish of having things that I could not buy this year. They include spa collection of Shieshedo for hair and Body..perfumes from Isse Miyaki, hugo boss some small toileteries from Loreal. Well that's enough considering the winter is coming to an end and I have to replenish my 'cornucopia' with summer goodies. Hey, that reminds me that I have to overhaul my summer wardrobe too. And what about accessories..I have to buy decent pairs of shoes formal and casual, sandals, belts, watch and eye wear too so that the look doesn't look incomplete.

After writing this I feel glad that I actually came up with a list of things that I wanted.. This exercise is so cool...Ok now you might ask me why did I choose fiscal discipline as my first resolution..Arre, so that I can spend it all when it gets accumulated..Every friend of mine is heading towards foreign shores. Why should I be left behind in motherland..I too want to go on my own terms and on my own money. So I wish to have at least one foreign trip (barring SAARC countries..no,no I won't mind visiting Maldives..only the rest, I won't go to) before my next new year.

My third resolution would be to have somebody..(not some body- you pervert!!) special in my life. Though I have many special people in my life -Wait, here no way I mean an autistic person by special, though I have nothing against them. Now special is very vague way to put across my requirements and as a consultant I must put structured and well laid out details. So if you are reading this and feel you are special because people have told you so consistently, you know where to find me.

Now making four resolutions is bit too much. Isn't it..But You might be surprised that my last resolution is my oldest and my most favorite, So why have I put this in the end. Because I know there are as much chances of me sticking to my resolution as Rakhi Sawant marrying Abhishek..not the beefy choreographer but our AB junior, Abhishek bacchan. How on earth would I be able to get a body better than Hritik Roshan, Michael Phelps and all those super studs appearing in music videos..It's not my fault but my gene pool's that I have few extra kilos. It sucks!! On that note..

Happy Resolution Making

2006-10-30T16:11:00.000+05:30

Writing a blog is never easy..especially people like me who are born lazy. But at the same time there is no better medium to vent out your feelings while being anonymous. So I might have tried writing it so many times before, something has given it final push and now I will post as consistently as possible. I have written a lot of stuff which I never came to uploading on blog. Therefore, sometimes you might will be subjected to time warp when my old posts will make and appearance.