A Rendezvous 2 ..

J: I am gay .
I wasn’t sure yet, so I asked him a very stupid question.

I: What kind of gay are you? ..a straight gay (for tonight only) or a gay gay.(ended that with a smirk)
He looked at me, his lips stretched to right as if about to give me a partial grin but …then they retracted. So …I had heard it right ….after all.

I: I don’t like homosexuality.(I don’t know as to why I said that.)

J: No one asked you to like it.
One couldn’t feel more stupid but I persisted. And I was nervous as hell, too!! If I were barefooted you could have seen me drawing cyanocobalamines and Taj mahals with my toe.

I: See, if god wished homosexuality, he would have created Steve not Eve.
(Oh my god! I had crossed the limit. I could feel the adrenaline surge....no, not in me but in him, I could see that in his eyes.)
I looked at his burly large fingers that wrapped the glass. He shifted the snifter to his left hand. With his cold n dank digits, he tapped me on my shoulders and gestured a bathroom break. I was like …..is that it ?!!!!Ohhh …that was not the adrenaline surge but his expression for nature’s calls…phew. Histrionics…ehh!!

I looked around and saw the same bartender; she was sauntering through throngs of bunny hoppers (read awful dancers) with a tray in one hand. She walked towards me and tapped on my wrist. It seems I was looking elsewhere...possibly her cleavage. But I was too clouded with other thoughts to even relish the luring schism.
Holding the tray closer to her bosom she asked “Sir, you want this?”
I wasn’t in a mood for an innuendo and I heard myself saying... “I don’t want either….”.
She gave me a befuddled look and walked away.
J returned.

J: So you are not gay?

I: Do I look like one?

J: Your looks don’t define your homosexuality; your orientation does. No man is 100% straight. Every person yup every person has some ‘gayness’ in him.

I : Cant we change topic? I didn’t come here to discover my hidden homosexuality.
He continued…..he chose to ignore me.

J: So you like Angelina Jolie or Brad Pitt?

I: I like Megan Fox, I like Vida Guerra. I like Kelly Brook. I don’t like Angelina Jolie.

He continued.
J: I can see that you are into workout. So when in gym do you look at guys?

I: If I say no, that would be a lie. I do but ‘looking at’ is a negative word, ‘spotting’ is perhaps apt because I don’t ogle at them. It’s camaraderie…you know.

I knew he understood. There doesn’t seem to be much he could do about the umbrage than take it but he was trying to derive something. He went on.

J: Ok sir….So you are not gay. Are you vegetarian?

I: No.

J: Do you have problem with veggies or vegans?

I: No

J: Then why the heck do you have problem with someone being gay? It is our choice. This does not even bother you. I won’t even compete with you for your girl. I would, perhaps, be the best person your sister would be safe with. We run parallel to each other like banks of a river or rail lines. Our paths would never cross. Do you know how difficult it is to be gay? It is not even a choice. It is inherent. I can’t explain. From the day we discover that we are gay….(he paused..looked me in the eye)….its a battle with ourselves and everybody. Do you know how difficult it is to tell your loved ones that you are gay …have you ever realized that? Have you ever failed in life? Have you ever faced with a situation where you had to tell someone that you are not good enough…..Do you understand how difficult it is …to come out of the closet? How difficult it is …to tell ma n pa… that..…their son is into men?
And he left.

I had hurt him. I felt those pangs. I had lost a friend before I had one.

All those questions …still echo in my ears. Those words are almost tangible. I would never know how he feels but …



GIST:
Its difficult to be in somebody else's shoes but thank god for what you are.There is always a person out there who wishes he were you, he had what you have …..Thank god for what you are.

A Rendezvous 1...

Few moons ago I had been to pub ……generally I frequent clubs…..but this time around I felt like ‘pubbing’. Actually, the reason for ‘pubbing’ was one of my newer friends. He was leaving Boston for good and therefore, was throwing a party. I reached there….. .10.30 ish. In order to bypass the bee line (pun intended), I approached the bouncer and made a ‘hand shake’ gesture. He approached me and before long I was wiggling to Sean Paul’s Temperature. Yaah!!!! Even I thought the same…10.45 pm was too early for this number.The dance floor seemed like a kaleidoscope of races and colors. While some seemed sober others seemed ready to be on the wagon. That is when I saw my friend waving at me, sometimes pushing …sometimes nudging….sometimes prodding gently (if that’s possible) I finally reached them. He is Italian and had his native cronies with him. All of them were warm and tall!! I settled on my stool besides a very handsome man with tresses but those tresses suited him. His built was envious, his confidence…very tangible, with piercing gaze …he extended his arm for a handshake. We shook hands like men. Surprisingly, my handshake seemed firmer. I turned my head and found a sexy bar tender (flaunting a sweet cleavage) waiting for my order. I ordered for a call drink (Bacardi and coke). She made my drink, deftly boxed it and then slid it towards me with a naughty smile on her face (probably…they are trained to give that smile…..probably ehh).I turned to this man again. We introduced each other; his name was Jilliano-a doctoral candidate from MIT. He had a strong European accent to his English. By now I was riding on my fourth drink. Just then I saw an average looking ‘beauty’ (after I get drunk there are only two categories of women: beautiful and very beautiful) walking towards me. Brushing against me she said something in Spanish slyly. I blurted out “Hey, I am learning Spanish…but I am not good at it yet.” and ended that with a quick smile. She patted me on my cheeks and left. I repented as soon as the DJ hit Low by Flo Rida; that was even before the whiff of her fragrance had left me. I felt the urge to dance….something like feeling the urge to pee…..yaah very similar. I tapped Jilliano on the shoulder and approached this beautiful (literally) Caublasian who was sitting there all by herself. I bent, looked her in the eye and said “My friend, there, (hinting at Jilliano) thinks I am attracted to you.” She smiled at me ……wow …..I held out my hands, she cupped it. We boogied for around 10 min and I returned to Jilliano.
J: I thought she was your pick for the nighth (in his Italian accent)
I: Actually, Indians come to club just for momentary…can I put it that way…..enjoyment. Well, also…. also…I cannot generalize anything about Indians coz there is a billion of us out there. Many of us do pick up girls but not me.
J: I like Indians. They are cute. Even my boyfriend likes them.
Wait …..did I hear it wrong?!!! Boyfriend…I looked at him askew and gestured a bathroom break. He nodded. I left him at the counter. As I walked towards the restroom, I could feel the booming music blur away out of my mind and the word ‘boyfriend’ reverberating in my ears. I returned and he resumed.J: I am gay .
To be continued…..

untitled blog:)

Well ….of late I have been rejecting a lot of alliances. One day my dad called me “…beta, what kind of girl do you want?”
Now..now…I couldn’t tell him this – dad, her a#$e should be like Vida Guerra’s ..her waist to hips ratio must be 0.7 …no more no less…..she should be as intelligent as Indra Nooyi …and more graphic about other parts.
Instead I heard myself saying “Dad, she should be my ‘types’.” He retorted “I know what is your ‘types’, but, beta, this is arranged marriage and brides, unlike cars, cannot be custom made.”

Strange are the ways, we describe beauty; it has changed ever so drastically. Sense never danced attendance to semantic collocation where admiring female body was concerned. Poets have compared female body to anything and everything they could compare it to; some compared their eyes and gait to that of deer. Yaah …of course I know they meant shape but just close your eyes and imagine your girlfriend with deer’s eyes. The thought itself curls my lips and gives me horrible horripilation. And when they compared gait, they meant graceful. Of course deer look cute and I have no personal grudge against them.

Another thing that was compared consistently was their neck but poets played fast and loose on this part. Hips and waist have always been considered to be very important. Indians, unlike their Oriental cousins, have always stressed on low waist to hips ratio. I have always had firm faith in our ancestors’ assumptions; except for the caste system (now don’t get me started on the latter). Look at all the sculptures; they have hour glass figures, it’s not because large stones were available in bulk and that there were no Hiranandanis and Lokhandwalas; our ancestors believed that curvaceous women gave birth to more intelligent children and would themselves be generally more intelligent. Modern medical science has proved just that; ‘seat’ fat contains polyunsaturated fatty acids (Omega-3) essential for the development of the fetus’s brain. Now you know, why they had curvaceous actresses in Mahabharata serial…..:)
So we can be certain that when poets compared contours to hour glass, they were right.

Another feature that stands out is ….hair. A poet would describe- her hair so long , creepers they resembled , serpents they were…. hugging her body ever so……..-Wow…creepers…. that is so ‘creepy’. I would never marry a girl with ‘creeper’ hair; those figurative serpents would give me nightmares during the good times of the better part of my married life.

Another fact that puzzles me to no end is the comparison of face with the moon. When I was a child I remember my mom referring to moon as her distant cousin (remember chanda mama!)…now …after I grew up I discovered that poets compared moon to beloved’s face….isn’t that weird? That would be ‘Gay Incest’ (from a man’s point of view), conflict of ideas and creativity and ofcourse sense!

Over the years, tagging of feminine contours and projections has changed crudely and tastelessly. I wish I could lay out all the slang that is frothing and sloshing inside of me but ………


Gist:
Look for a woman with WHR (waist to hip ratio) : 0.7 but remember as one philosopher spoketh ‘…….eyes reflect person’s inner…’ and another poet says ‘more beautiful the hair …more systematic the woman’
So again WHR, eyes and hair…or damn ! Simply go for the one you love….you will be happy all your life.

Slander

There I was …....standing near the pillar completely oblivious to the ‘goings-on’ for which I had actually been there. I was listening to something else …actually eavesdropping (which is bad I know)….If you were there, you would have seen an enrapt homosapien listening to the hash session of two Neanderthal pseudo philosophers. Actually one of them could be tagged ‘on-the-way-to-become-a-homo sapien’ Neanderthal!
For ease of narrating I would name them A and B…and also to save them from disgrace…really!!!
A: Do you know that girl in green salwar?
B: Ohh.. that girl right next to frame? She is PQR. She is a bitch. Actually she is also a slut. I hear she was dating XYZ and it seems he had a good time with her. Then one fine day she dumped him. Now she is with that guy..” as he held his head askew hinting at a man to his right.
A: How do you know this?”
B(with the confidence of a king maker): I have my sources. My friends told me about her.
A: So you don’t know her personally?
B: Nope.
A: Are you an idiot? You are a post graduate student and you don’t even know this much. How can you spread such things when you actually have heard it from someone else and probably your source must have had his sources and so on.
B was quiet for a while; then retorted.
B: Come on. You don’t know that girl.I mean …so what if that is not true…I don’t lose anything .You don’t lose anything. And (B winks at A) she has already lost it (you know what he meant). Friend, probably we are the only ones in this room who are still holding on to it. Seriously, man, I don’t care.
A: Cool. If that was your relative, how would you feel?
B: It isn’t...that way. And I don’t have a sister (B muffling his cackles)
A: Don’t you feel bad when you spread such things?
B: Come on! Don’t play the oracle with me. Everybody does that. Do you remember Mr.L?
A nodded.
B: Do you actually think he is a philanderer? I don’t know much about …but I really don’t think …he is. It was just that he was trying woo the girl I was eyeing. See the procedure is very easy. Girls generally don’t know much about most boys. Most of the girls are gullible (he used chu..). If they know you, you tell them anything about any guy …they will believe you …...definitely (waving the hands and gesturing with his fingers). Do you think that she would actually approach Mr.L and ask him whether he is a flirt or not….oh come on…..THINK….most of the boys are shy and some of them don’t care…exploit the situation, dude. Girls would never tell what they were told and guys will never ask.
A nodded but didn’t seem to be interested in boarding the same boat.
He just gave an excuse and bid good bye. Probably he was good or atleast was playing good.
Suggestion:
So next time someone talks bad about a guy or girl who is stranger to you, just listen to it but do not believe him/her. If uou do ...you might lose a good friend ……even before meeting him.
Happy Socializing!!

The false smile....

Have you ever come across an American white lately? Look at them closely ..no I dont mean ogle!. They will definitely give you a ‘false’ smile. The other day while I was at the cafeteria; I asked one of my American (white) friends that why they felt the need to give a certain false smile. His reply was so muddle headed that I really thought I chose a wrong spokesperson for the white people. He said “We want to show people that we are not sad. We don’t have a sad side.” Even after our seemingly philosophical hash-session I wasn’t satisfied with his reply. Everytime I crossed a young lady or a man, I would get that ‘how are you’ followed by a false smile. Believe me that smile is so irritating.
The other day I was proctoring and came across a group of youngsters. Each of them would hand over to me their I-Ds and a false smile. This was getting too much for me. After some time my supervisor arrived, he seems rude and he is rude if you didn’t know him… that well. But somehow he was really sweet to me. One thing that struck me was that it was Christmas and he was still in Boston. I asked him why was he still in Boston. His reply blew me away. He said “Dude, my family is all fucked up.” and that was followed by a false smile. I was choked and didn’t know as to what expressions I should give. I suddenly got the reply to all my questions about ‘false’ smile. I looked into his eyes, for a second I thought his eyes were moist and the next moment – he smiled at me again and left. His pain seemed tangible therefore quite veritable.

It reminded me of Stephen Covey’s lines-‘When you know the root of trouble of an individual, you actually start to decipher his emotions.’ He narrates a touching incident in his life where he is traveling in a train and he comes across a man, who is traveling with his kids, in the same compartment. The kids are restless, bawling their lungs out and in the process, disturbing everyone in the compartment. This gentleman turns to the crowd and apologizes for his kids’ behavior and says “I am really sorry about their behavior; I really don’t how I should make them quiet. They just lost their mother to cancer. We are going to the hospital.” That sentence changed the attitude of Mr. Covey towards those children and the cacophony of mourning disturbed him no more.

I try to do my share of social service on the weekends. Two moons ago I came across this kid. He is always irate and defines the term rebellious in its most apt sense. But we, tutors, were really good to him. I thought…. being good was a norm in social service; but it was only after my colleague told me about this young man, I started to see him more compassionately. He had two gay fathers and he was an IVF (in vitro fertilization) kid. Sometimes when I think of these unfortunate kids; it raises my danders.They face this because of their irresponsible parents.They suffer and feel wretched all their life. Some absorb it and become reclusive and seem like a countenance of sorrow than anger but most rebel because when they look at kids around them they feel like they have been robbed off of the sweetest thing in life – parental affection. There are many in my university who experience this.

Probably the false smile is to hide this sadness…probably my friend was right…and he was the right spokesperson…We come from a culture where these cases are rare, by god’s grace. Thank goodness! And probably we must be a more judicious judge, more perspicacious in our thought and judgment, more tolerant to people around us (without losing our self respect of course!)…Probably we must talk less and listen more and probably one day we might get a true smile!