Writer’s Block and Big Blue Bag (Part I)

Four hours back I could not talk

Suffered from a writer’s block.

Visited neighbour quack for cure;

he said treatment was obscure.

I decided then to roam,

Leave the four walls of my home.

After all, the summer’s pain

Had faded in pre-monsoon rain.

Belly full and mind empty

Perfect disaster recipee:

walking in the night and breeze

hoping some idea I would seize.

All I got was stares cold;

Turned out clothes were way too bold

for Rani Bagh to tolerate;

5-inch shorts are not so great.

Yet I egged on farther still

As my goodwill went downhill.

It was distraction not needed

I’d lie, say if went unheeded.

Though I marched on being confident,

My nekkid legs their own way went.

My scatterbrain was more scattered

was nothing single that mattered.

Written in passionate prose

There’s still something no one knows.

I possess a big blue bag;

since forever, I should brag.

It has letters old and new

That no one else except me knew.

‘Coz I write them from me to me

‘Tis a nonstop soliloquy.

it literally had my heart red

which was cut out from me and bled.

It now is of pale blue colour

A husky-ball would be warmer.

How red to blue has turned my heart

Would be told in another part.

(to be continued…)


My Dear Friend

Yesterday a bosom friend
had a nice proposal penned
our year-long dry spell to end -
together some time to spend.

Today sharp at 10.30:
She woke me up angrily
I was quite late already
I had to just jump and flee.

It was no just sweltering sun.
Tar on road was too molten.
Temperature was 51.
Out-about on road was none.

All alone I stepped my first
foot on molten road that burst
slippery lava, still I must
reach my waiting friend (in thirst).

“Hot, hot, hot!”, I felt the heat.
Through my shoe I felt the peat.
Precious are my tiny feet.
Still had promise to complete.

Told myself to be a man.
worry not much ’bout the tan.
Gulped I water, then began
Run to Stop: O, how I ran!

Ran I with sun full on blast.
Ran I till the moment last.
Ran I jumping-crying past
all the shops: O, ran I fast!

Bus stop was now not so far.
Still running on slippery tar.
‘Ho ho ho’, the yellow star
was just about to make me charred.

Then I saw a grey bus who
was coming near to me through
gusty, twisty, winds of loo
fiercely in my face that blew.

That was shot across the bow
Dare I could not now to slow
Step one, step two, ducked I low:
Shot I into bus like pro.

When I sit now in AC
And remember all the sweet
talk we had in the McD,
Burnt feet are nothing really.


With Guy Smart / Miles Apart / Lady Stoneheart / Has A Start

I am sitting on a roof
deep in a trance.
Wondering whether being aloof
has yet killed my chance
of being loved and hugged and kissed
by one man I have liked.
Or possibly he’ll be pissed
if crush is publicized.

I think he knows I am quite
interested in him.
Yesterday, he sparked a light
when spoke he on a whim.
I had asked him how many
Prav-hearts he had torn.
And he asked me on epiphany
if I too was lovelorn.

I replied – and I lied -
when I told him, “No!
I am not. I’m bona fide
guy with heart of stone.”
Conversation then drifted to
common friend of ours.
His story did give us glue
to stick around for hours.

Common friend had neglected
the man who’s dear to me.
Latter, turns out, has visited
IIT Roorkee.
Too much was this revelation
for me to digest
since then I must wholly shun
how I know him best.

Till 3 am we discussed,
cut him under lens.
Then my love of life had fussed
to stop all this nonsense.
He was too sleepy, tired
to say proper goodbyes.
I couldn’t sleep, was inspired
to rethink all my ties.

Also I did come to know
that he has met a man.
Told me he could be his beau
I now have no game plan.



My Life These Days

If I can wrap up my life these days, it is:

  1. Cold
  2. Shimla
  3. Gay stories on internet.

Now, 1. and 3. are easy to elaborate upon. I seem to have a perennial cold which has become worse nowadays during the deepest of winters. As for the stories, they have somehow taken a big chunk of my free time, whenever I get it. This story, ‘Dancing With the Moon‘ by Michael Duggan is one of the best I have ever read. I have read it numerous times and a persistent feeling of sadness has taken place of the initial surprise when I first read the story. I highly recommend this story, if only to encourage the star of the writer to rise.

And 2. Yes, I went to Shimla with my friends. But fast friends as they are, they just managed to disappoint me at every turn. I wasted five thousand rupees on this trip getting nothing back in return if we discount the Tattapani experience (awesome place, must visit). Shimla being the summer capital of British has very old buildings and never having properly explored the city before when I was here 3 years ago with my mother and sister, I wanted to fill the gaps of my last trip. But I didn’t get to see anything that I wanted. Gaiety Theatre. Nope. Kalibari Temple. Nope. Maria Brothers. Nope. Viceregal Lodge. Nope. A walk through Shimla. Nope. I had infinitely more fun with my family and thus have promised never to go anywhere with those people again if I want my friendship to not fall apart due to such silly reasons.

This post is a historical archive for me basically and that is why so little background information is given here. But what I’ll freely say is that the respective loves of my friends’ bosoms are in actuality men with whom I wouldn’t even want to keep up an acquaintance. Love is blind, as they say. Now since I have posted a link to a heart-breaking short story and accepted in writing a disaster that I went through for full five days, I would like to go to sleep to cure the 1.

Good night!

Crimes of Unreason: Danish Sheikh


So many things I want to sea but for now listen to this voice of reason. Wish he was sitting on the bench just because of the fact that he knows what logic is. Read on…

Originally posted on Kafila:

A post on the cowardly judgment of the Supreme Court by DANISH SHEIKH. I term it a cowardly decision because if it had said that we are homophobic then it would at least have been admirable for its honesty if not for its belief. It instead chooses to mask its homophobia with crimes of unreason

Now you’re legal – Now you’re not!

With the ease of a particularly sadistic magic trick, a 98 page document has sent millions of LGBT individuals time-warping back into pre-2009 criminality. If there were any constitutional justifications for this act, they are not to be found lurking in the pages of this shockingly poorly reasoned decision. The Supreme Court has taken a chainsaw to one of the most beloved court decisions of our time, and surgically extracted everything that made it such an important verdict. Besides, of course, that little side business of equal-moral-citizenship…

View original 927 more words


I am surprised that nobody in my Reader list bothered to write that Tom Daley is dating a man! The diver-cutie-heartthrob after whom many gay people shamelessly lusted is dating a man! I pitied those who sulked after him but I was proven wrong in the end; I should have joined them because, in the end, he is dating a man!

Notice the verbosity here. Apparently, he didn’t say he is gay. He is saying he is dating a man instead of girls (with whom he wasn’t “really serious”). But, having never come out as saying he is gay, I can’t label him one; the term is too restrictive – exclusive to males – and since he claims he still has feelings for female gender, he is not gay. But he is not even saying he is bisexual! He is not saying anything except saying that he is dating a man.

But then it is not that I am dissing him at all; I can testify that coming out is a brave process. It takes  lot of courage and the way he gulps and pauses in his coming out video, those who have done it time and again should know. I wish I had a chance to put on a single video so that I don’t have to do this again and again for a variety of people; but he took the plunge in a single bold step that would have been all the more difficult knowing how many bigoted and homophobic people are out there.

Media is speculating what his coming-out does for the larger LGBT(QSAPXYZ) community: whether his not labelling himself is an act of privilege or an act of individualism. To me it is neither, I feel he is just hesitating to say it out loud, I have felt it at so many times myself. Now I am not comparing our situations at all: I am an Indian living in isolation, he is living in a more accepting country whose mother, family and friends support him, but he is also an athlete who must have inculcated a lifelong habit of not expressing his feelings towards men being in such close approximation of his peers in locker room and beyond. Having denied all his life his feelings, it is quite bold to suddenly say you are gay/bisexual/whatever.

Take me, as an example – as we always do, it’s all about me in this blog after all. I now share my stories about being gay etc. to many people but I still keep my feelings towards an actual person in check and in secret. For example, I think I like Sushant, my roommate in Roorkee, but then I like Mittal also as a dear friend. What is the difference? I don’t let myself indulge into the nuances of my feelings for the two. And thus I try to remain aloof to Sushant and make fun of his looks (privately: good looks). He knows I am gay so it gives me even less degree of freedom to appreciate his presence in my life. Isn’t it only civil to keep feelings to yourself in a society if nobody wants to hear it? Now I am not saying here I like Sushant. I am explicitly saying that I don’t know what I feel for him, but then I am not even trying to remove this confusion. That such a confusion exists itself is alarming to me. This is what I call a drape of secrecy; I am not just hiding some secrets from the world (e.g. I am gay) but also from myself (e.g. what I feel for Sushant). I have turned from a real closeted gay man to an abstract, emotionless, semi-outed man. I have unconsciously developed the habit of uteering “gay” in a practiced whisper, saying it mutedly time and again. I still uncomfortable saying “lesbian” out loud.

Can this be happening to Tom Daley? Maybe he is taking it slowly. He has found a man he likes/loves and it is all that means to him. If he is on the market again (that his rabid fans would be wanting for right now), maybe he would be forced to choose a label for himself. That is what they say: ignorance is bliss, because once you know a truth, it is hard to run away from it. When you are transparent to truth, there is no inner battle, but once you become conscious of it, contradicting it takes a mental dissonance. And when it is too much, people commit suicide or just come out (healthier option). I hope for the sake of British Diving Team that he is experiencing no cognitive dissonance (even if it means less medals for India [as if it wins any medals in diving :D ]).

But then I have too much time on hand. Whatever Tom Daley is or is not, he is certainly brave as I have said before. That such a video exists itself would impact the lives of so many people in his area. In his own way, he changed the world for the better.

So what does it mean for me immediately? It means I can share a picture of Tom Daley here without feeling the guilt of staring at a straight man:


…that lucky bitch who got this!

A “Friend” in Need

I have been taking a friend from Roorkee to various tourist attractions in Delhi for two days now. Not a friend really, but he calls me one. So I have to resign myself to the fact that I am his friend. And it has its pros and cons. Pros: none. Cons: I have to revisit every conventional place in Delhi once again, burning a hole through my pocket and that too with a guy I barely like to see (or smell).

Yet his presence is good because he flares up old, forgotten insecurities in me. Am I the same like him? Do I embarrass my friends too? I am not beautiful to look at, or smooth to talk with compared to the people I see nowadays. I don’t like getting a haircut because suddenly they have become so complicated. I am still flabbergasted by “posh” restaurants that have these unwritten rules that only come by experience. I am not a good dancer. I am not quick with my responses. I have neither a nice tanned body nor a sharp tongue.

But then people seem to like me; I have heard, a girl in my class has a crush on me. One of friends is holding on to me praying I shouldn’t go to IMT in France else she would die in that city all alone (I do the same to her in case she cracks CAT exam for MBA). I have a lot of people who tell me that I am a “good” person with a “golden” heart but is it enough if I find myself competing with a guy with vocal fry and magnetic eyes? Yes, mindless paranoia.

But back on topic. So this guy is from a small town and is a self-professed simple man. He is. It means he has some mannerism that is a little rough on the edges — like throwing paper plates on the road, moving to and fro continuously when bored, gaping at romantic couples sitting together, smelling like a fish and so on. These are minor things that I never react to but are things that I can’t ever ignore when I see them happening. And it humbles me because it means people notice my faults too but ignore them. It is a nudge for me towards a better, more refined way of life.

To say the truth, my dissatisfaction is intensified due to a fact that unfolded at the very start of the trip when I picked him up from the ISBT: his train that I thought departed at 27 Nov actually had to depart at 28 Nov. So it wasn’t 1 but rather 2 days of him in my house. Yes, Guest is God and all that shit but 2 days are just too much for a guy whom I am forced to call a friend. He is nice and I do talk to him much more than any random acquaintance but my sister has her TIFR exam just 10 days later. She has never complained of the alien presence in the house and has always been ready to clean the house and serve the food. But it is obvious she needs quiet for her studies given how vast the syllabus is that she is trying to catch up to. (PS: She wins my coming-out for all her TLC as an elder sister over the years once her exams get over.)

So my friend and I visited Connaught Place yesterday on short notice because he arrived in the afternoon and then Akshardham, Red Fort, Chandni Chowk and NSP today. It is 0157 hours right now. He will wake up two hours from now. We will reach bus stop 3 hours from now and I will be coming back from Anand Vihar Railway Station after bidding him farewell at about 0650 Hours. Yay! However much you may love a person, if you know her/his departing schedule, it is time for them to just pack up and leave.

I did everything till now as a duty: inviting him to my house, agreeing to go sightseeing with him, seeing to his comforts et al. But then, as I have realized, it is something all of us have to do once in a while. He feels alone in Roorkee and I am his crutch, someone in whom he can confide everything. But it is a burden to me, I say it openly here, and a waste of time too (WOT as one of my professors likes to abbreviate), a time which can be spent productively and unproductively in so many ways that makes my head spin. Yet I know I can’t do any of those things when I see him come from a faraway place among strangers and kill his time listening to Bengali songs in nostalgia. I can’t let him be self-destructive and if all it takes is a few moments of my life and nothing else, I will happily agree to it, even if I reserve the rights to crib, bemoan and nitpick here. And also make self-choking expressions if I learn that he is already actively planning to visit me again in the future to cover the rest of the city that we didn’t get time to see.

Oh. God.