The screening of Engayging Lives
Tonight, I'm going with a bunch of my wonderful colleagues and M-man (my date) to watch the screening of Engayging Lives, the documentary about urban openly gay people. Of course, the title is based on my blog and I have contributed the soundtrack to it. I hope it is as fulfilling as it promises to be. I'm attaching the invite, the schedule, and the Mid-Day article (from Thursday) about the same (which had me fearured in a photo taken at a relatively unfortunate moment)!
Promiscuity of the Soul
This poem was written by Vinokur and was inspired by my colleauge SS. Thanks to both!
There is, of course, the promiscuity of flesh -
reviled or celebrated through the ages.
There is, as well, a promiscuity of the soul.
It madly, blindly, greedily grasps at life.
From this multiplicity, this frenzied fielding of efforts,
good or bad ensues:
Confusion, incompletion, frustration, sorrow, wreckage.
And, finally,
madness.
Or multi-faceted genius
steeped in knowledge, experience, wisdom.
It wins the Nobel Prize.
Is hailed, admired by all.
What determines
which it will be?
Biochemistry.
There is, of course, the promiscuity of flesh -
reviled or celebrated through the ages.
There is, as well, a promiscuity of the soul.
It madly, blindly, greedily grasps at life.
From this multiplicity, this frenzied fielding of efforts,
good or bad ensues:
Confusion, incompletion, frustration, sorrow, wreckage.
And, finally,
madness.
Or multi-faceted genius
steeped in knowledge, experience, wisdom.
It wins the Nobel Prize.
Is hailed, admired by all.
What determines
which it will be?
Biochemistry.
A Streetcar Named Desire - All About My Insecurities
Yesterday, I went for a home-theatre movie triple bill at my friend's home. I expected it to be pleasant - the movies, my friends, and the whole experience. It was almost totally pleasant. I was wishing for just the one thing - if only I could leave my mind back home. My insecurities keep popping up everywhere as potential triggers. They indeed did here!
We watched three classic movies - 'A Streetcar Named Desire', 'All About Eve' and 'All About My Mother'. I watched two and a half as I felt sleepy and bored (I don't know which preceded which) through the first one. Apart from a couple of friends of Marlon Brando's who titillated my nonexistent tits, so to speak, I wasn't touched, moved, aroused, amazed, astounded, or even interested.
After Desire, we watched the other two and I was increasingly pleasured by the two others - especially 'All About My Mother'. My friend had chosen these movies as a planned crescendo because Mother had so many references to Eve and Desire. The movies were great, but I wished I could have watched them alone, so that I could pause when I wanted to, sleep when I needed to, and research when I'm forced to. That way I don't need to be wary of the potentially hurtful discussions afterward, when I'd be clueless as a kitten to be swooped off by a vulturous eagle.
See, I don't even remember the name of the characters. Almost everyone on the planet seems to know them by heart. And I can't recollect the most obvious of such details without Wiking/IMBDing. I'm pathetic, I know. But I'll leave whining for a little later.
I'm a tired man, I must remember. I've too many things on my plate that I can't even possibly taste and I'm full almost upto my lower esophagus. I'm on antidepressants and antipsychotics which supervene on my efforts to maintain wakefullness. I've a minefield of a mind full of blackholes about insecurities of lack of knowledge and exposure to arts, history, and what not.
In such a state, it was foolish of me to have attempted instant redemption. No offence to my lover and friends, I'm not quite up to the mark. I suck at most things that I want to be good at. I agree that I'm good at most things that I end up devoting time to. But there are far too many things, far far too many things, and too little time, which might have been curtailed had it not been for these pills that I'm on.
No one can save this wreck from sinking. But how much more can it float?
We watched three classic movies - 'A Streetcar Named Desire', 'All About Eve' and 'All About My Mother'. I watched two and a half as I felt sleepy and bored (I don't know which preceded which) through the first one. Apart from a couple of friends of Marlon Brando's who titillated my nonexistent tits, so to speak, I wasn't touched, moved, aroused, amazed, astounded, or even interested.
After Desire, we watched the other two and I was increasingly pleasured by the two others - especially 'All About My Mother'. My friend had chosen these movies as a planned crescendo because Mother had so many references to Eve and Desire. The movies were great, but I wished I could have watched them alone, so that I could pause when I wanted to, sleep when I needed to, and research when I'm forced to. That way I don't need to be wary of the potentially hurtful discussions afterward, when I'd be clueless as a kitten to be swooped off by a vulturous eagle.
See, I don't even remember the name of the characters. Almost everyone on the planet seems to know them by heart. And I can't recollect the most obvious of such details without Wiking/IMBDing. I'm pathetic, I know. But I'll leave whining for a little later.
I'm a tired man, I must remember. I've too many things on my plate that I can't even possibly taste and I'm full almost upto my lower esophagus. I'm on antidepressants and antipsychotics which supervene on my efforts to maintain wakefullness. I've a minefield of a mind full of blackholes about insecurities of lack of knowledge and exposure to arts, history, and what not.
In such a state, it was foolish of me to have attempted instant redemption. No offence to my lover and friends, I'm not quite up to the mark. I suck at most things that I want to be good at. I agree that I'm good at most things that I end up devoting time to. But there are far too many things, far far too many things, and too little time, which might have been curtailed had it not been for these pills that I'm on.
No one can save this wreck from sinking. But how much more can it float?
Love no Superman
The Café, cool breeze flew past
You too, but you were on fire
Curiosity, Looked back at the sky
Started singing with my fingers
At the town square, saving lives
Not quite, but at least a head
Wanted to jot down a story,
You showed me kryptonite
Hush hush Mary Jane,
He's from another galaxy
Of red dwarves and black holes
Slow down Mary Jane
He ain't human
Can't love without no soul
The cognac was smooth, in chalice
I was drowning, smoothly done in
Krypton calling, so far away
A few hours, at the speed of light
The galaxy had brilliant son
Black holes were rumbling, but
Waiting to devour kryptonite
Got traded in, cheaper than gravel
Hush hush Mary Jane,
He's from another galaxy
Of red dwarves and black holes
Slow down Mary Jane
He ain't human
Can't love without no soul
I felt I was flying, without a cape
Was there a world to save?
The cries, and 'why's still linger
I made a mistake, you were Superman
You too, but you were on fire
Curiosity, Looked back at the sky
Started singing with my fingers
At the town square, saving lives
Not quite, but at least a head
Wanted to jot down a story,
You showed me kryptonite
Hush hush Mary Jane,
He's from another galaxy
Of red dwarves and black holes
Slow down Mary Jane
He ain't human
Can't love without no soul
The cognac was smooth, in chalice
I was drowning, smoothly done in
Krypton calling, so far away
A few hours, at the speed of light
The galaxy had brilliant son
Black holes were rumbling, but
Waiting to devour kryptonite
Got traded in, cheaper than gravel
Hush hush Mary Jane,
He's from another galaxy
Of red dwarves and black holes
Slow down Mary Jane
He ain't human
Can't love without no soul
I felt I was flying, without a cape
Was there a world to save?
The cries, and 'why's still linger
I made a mistake, you were Superman
Shame on you AMU and TOI
All of you might have heard, read, analysed, and formed opinion about the shocking news from Aligarh. Aligarh Muslim University's (AMU) Modern Indian Languages Department's Chairman Dr. Shrinivas Ramchandra Siras has been framed by a local TV news channel for having had consensual sex with an adult man (a rickshaw puller). Apart from the fact that he was framed for doing nothing illegal (as the Delhi High Court ruled last year), it's shameful that the unversity has condemned Dr. Siras and his 'actions' and has played along with the sting operation. They have asked Dr. Siras to vacate the campus and have given him a week to do so. Dr. Siras has apparently offered to resign considering that he was close to retirement anyway.
There are so many questions that need to be answered. There are so many things which have been dealt with in the wrong manner. I believe that Dr. Siras shouldn't have offered to resign - instead, he should have filed an FIR for invasion of privacy and defamation. He chose to not do that, perhaps due to some personal reasons that we aren't aware of. I believe it is the responsibility of the rest of the educated society to help Dr. Siras regain his pride.
I happened to know about this scandal a little late - actually, I wasn't even aware until my colleague and gay rights activist SM asked me whether I had seen the article on the frontpage of TOI. I was shocked when I read the news and was even more shocked to see the sensationalistic biased coverage given to the story by TOI. I have a few friends who are working with TOI, and I am perfectly aware that they can't control what comes on the frontpage of a newspaper that seems to have chosen to be joker in the media circus.
Two days later hence however, I am happy to see the story on Hindustan Times about the strong support given to Dr. Siras by the academicia, one of whom is a dear friend of mine. Another story by Indian Express, which seems to uphold the values associated with unbiased news reporting, not only states the facts clearly but voices the opinion of a few sensible gay activists including those of a TOI/ET writer Vikram Doctor.
Please read these articles and help us to protest against the unethical and unjust treatment given to Dr. Siras.
There are so many questions that need to be answered. There are so many things which have been dealt with in the wrong manner. I believe that Dr. Siras shouldn't have offered to resign - instead, he should have filed an FIR for invasion of privacy and defamation. He chose to not do that, perhaps due to some personal reasons that we aren't aware of. I believe it is the responsibility of the rest of the educated society to help Dr. Siras regain his pride.
I happened to know about this scandal a little late - actually, I wasn't even aware until my colleague and gay rights activist SM asked me whether I had seen the article on the frontpage of TOI. I was shocked when I read the news and was even more shocked to see the sensationalistic biased coverage given to the story by TOI. I have a few friends who are working with TOI, and I am perfectly aware that they can't control what comes on the frontpage of a newspaper that seems to have chosen to be joker in the media circus.
Two days later hence however, I am happy to see the story on Hindustan Times about the strong support given to Dr. Siras by the academicia, one of whom is a dear friend of mine. Another story by Indian Express, which seems to uphold the values associated with unbiased news reporting, not only states the facts clearly but voices the opinion of a few sensible gay activists including those of a TOI/ET writer Vikram Doctor.
Please read these articles and help us to protest against the unethical and unjust treatment given to Dr. Siras.
Forgetful self
I forget, I can't forgive myself
I fidget, I can't control myself
I'm upset, I can't free myself
I molest, I can't stop myself
I regret, I can't mould myself
I fret, I can't unlearn myself
I'm my pet, I can't teach myself
I let, I can't blame myself
Will I get, some peace myself?
I fidget, I can't control myself
I'm upset, I can't free myself
I molest, I can't stop myself
I regret, I can't mould myself
I fret, I can't unlearn myself
I'm my pet, I can't teach myself
I let, I can't blame myself
Will I get, some peace myself?
Man Lust
Why are men so attractive?
The cologne, the musk
The rough and tender touch
Why are men so unstoppably attractive?
The stubble, the lust
The clean and defined crust
Why are men so insatiably attractive?
The balls, the cock
The neat trimmed manly chest
Why are men so incredibly hot?
Ain't hard, ain't bad
The chemicals in you and a horny mind
The cologne, the musk
The rough and tender touch
Why are men so unstoppably attractive?
The stubble, the lust
The clean and defined crust
Why are men so insatiably attractive?
The balls, the cock
The neat trimmed manly chest
Why are men so incredibly hot?
Ain't hard, ain't bad
The chemicals in you and a horny mind
Walking through the jungle
So you are walking toward your destination in a hurry. A guitar and a backpack strapped to your shoulder and back, respectively, and you are trying to make good time. You're late by ten minutes already and are on the brink of drowning in shame and guilt. And you see these kinds of people walking in front of you:
This is when you feel a tad abusive and whiny. You also feel the world is being unreasonably unreasonable to you and your diabolical plans to save yourself from humiliation due to hypochronomodulation.
- Middle-aged women who walk slowly as if their uteruses would fall off if their perinei were stretched any further during the locomotive act - same reason why their husbands and spouses get more than adequate sleep in the night and grow obese.
- Obese men walking slowly as if they are ambulating in their parallel universe where the gullies (and phalluses) are as wide as their waist size, but in reality their shrunken organs can't penetrate the pubic bush-crown of the abovementioned class of women - the same reason why this unfortunate couple stopped making kids.
- Their kids act as if they grew on a land called Imbecilia. Sometimes they pair up and walk slowly as if they want to beat their moms and dads in cuntitude.
- And then there are hawkers, peddlers, and similar beings who forgot to scratch their balls/butt before leaving home.
This is when you feel a tad abusive and whiny. You also feel the world is being unreasonably unreasonable to you and your diabolical plans to save yourself from humiliation due to hypochronomodulation.
Love Pact
Two people in love like no other
Must realize that not much further
They will fall out of love for each other
That's no shame, it's quite natural
To ease the pain, my fellow lovers
Won't you listen to me, and consider
To make a pact, preamble, for each other
For when there ain't love, for the other
Put it down, when you still love each other
Your words will be kind and gentle, no bother
A play, a poem, some prose, oh whatever
To try and make it last forever
And act it out, without each other
When you have time sans the other
Because all that matters are the words, my lovers
And I know you love each other, like no other
Must realize that not much further
They will fall out of love for each other
That's no shame, it's quite natural
To ease the pain, my fellow lovers
Won't you listen to me, and consider
To make a pact, preamble, for each other
For when there ain't love, for the other
Put it down, when you still love each other
Your words will be kind and gentle, no bother
A play, a poem, some prose, oh whatever
To try and make it last forever
And act it out, without each other
When you have time sans the other
Because all that matters are the words, my lovers
And I know you love each other, like no other
Overwhelmed
Why do we give in so much
To life and all things such
We wish too much, I kiss too much
People, animals, and things as such
Why are we in pain so much
The pills can't cure all this much
We work too much, I love too much
Work, hobby, and duties as such
Why don't we gain so much
We are fools, I guessed as much
We pray too much, I cry too much
My heart, my soul, and all that mush
Why can't we cease, all of us
We aren't immortal, we know that much
I hope too much, can't act that much
I surrender everything, all this fuss
To life and all things such
We wish too much, I kiss too much
People, animals, and things as such
Why are we in pain so much
The pills can't cure all this much
We work too much, I love too much
Work, hobby, and duties as such
Why don't we gain so much
We are fools, I guessed as much
We pray too much, I cry too much
My heart, my soul, and all that mush
Why can't we cease, all of us
We aren't immortal, we know that much
I hope too much, can't act that much
I surrender everything, all this fuss
Older gay men and societal pressure
My intrinsic neuronal networking and neurochemical homeostatic mechanism predispose me to have a liking for older men, who are often 30 years elder to me. Interestingly, not once have I faced a generation gap with such men. Most men have youthful vibrant minds and an active physical life, much unlike straight corpulent middle-aged corporate men.
However, there is a wide divide between older Indian gay men and those from the 'civilized' world. Excepting a very few, Indian older gay men are usually in various degrees of closetedness and are under great pressure to act straight in their professional realms. Some are caught in straight marriages in varying degrees of stability and comfort. Despite unsuccessful marriages, some men are being forced to stay put because they love their kids and have responsibilities toward their families.
A very common and hypercritical way to look at this situation is to be disparaging of their choice to get married when they did. I have friends who have fallen in love with their wives and before getting married to them. However, the little bit of bisexuality in them has waned off and they don't have a sexual or emotional relationship with their spouse now. Some others had married because of some kind of social pressure or similar situation when they were young.
I believe that this issue needs to be looked at from the points of view of both the spouses. The men have been guilty when they chose to not be truthful to their families and wives. The women have suffered trauma and humiliation during the duration of such a relationship. Both have their points to justify their claim and deserve justice.
At this juncture, when the men have matured enough to brave the coming-out front - many have come out in different levels already - a dialogue needs to ensue. An open one that involves the people who would be directly affected - the man, his wife, their kids (if they are old enough), the family, and at times close friends/partners. In this dialogue, everyone needs to come clean and agree to agree and disagree, and take positive steps for the future. This should be done considering the best possible outcome for all those involved so that the hatchet can be truly buried and a more joyful comfortable life would result.
There will be those who feel that people/life have been unfair to them. But that can be changed - for the better. Why not, for example, agree on a truce where the 'marriage' remains as a facade for the society - to front its insulting wrath - and a meaningful understanding friendship is achieved between the family members; especially the couple and their kids. If this is achieved, everyone can find happiness in their own way taking care of the rest in the best way they can. And they should, because they care about each other more often than not.
However, there is a wide divide between older Indian gay men and those from the 'civilized' world. Excepting a very few, Indian older gay men are usually in various degrees of closetedness and are under great pressure to act straight in their professional realms. Some are caught in straight marriages in varying degrees of stability and comfort. Despite unsuccessful marriages, some men are being forced to stay put because they love their kids and have responsibilities toward their families.
A very common and hypercritical way to look at this situation is to be disparaging of their choice to get married when they did. I have friends who have fallen in love with their wives and before getting married to them. However, the little bit of bisexuality in them has waned off and they don't have a sexual or emotional relationship with their spouse now. Some others had married because of some kind of social pressure or similar situation when they were young.
I believe that this issue needs to be looked at from the points of view of both the spouses. The men have been guilty when they chose to not be truthful to their families and wives. The women have suffered trauma and humiliation during the duration of such a relationship. Both have their points to justify their claim and deserve justice.
At this juncture, when the men have matured enough to brave the coming-out front - many have come out in different levels already - a dialogue needs to ensue. An open one that involves the people who would be directly affected - the man, his wife, their kids (if they are old enough), the family, and at times close friends/partners. In this dialogue, everyone needs to come clean and agree to agree and disagree, and take positive steps for the future. This should be done considering the best possible outcome for all those involved so that the hatchet can be truly buried and a more joyful comfortable life would result.
There will be those who feel that people/life have been unfair to them. But that can be changed - for the better. Why not, for example, agree on a truce where the 'marriage' remains as a facade for the society - to front its insulting wrath - and a meaningful understanding friendship is achieved between the family members; especially the couple and their kids. If this is achieved, everyone can find happiness in their own way taking care of the rest in the best way they can. And they should, because they care about each other more often than not.
Decision making on a wintry afternoon
On a wintry afternoon
You chose to waste away
Blame it on the rum and coke
Blame it on your better half
Blame it on your entire self
The same wintry afternoon
I chose to work away
Flaming on my jive and jokes
Flaming on my better half
Flaming on my chosen self
This has been going on and on
We chose to shoo away
Wasting on our life and folks
Wasting on less-than-halves
Wasting on, wasting ourselves
I'm sorry, sullen and can't go on
I'm choosing to fly away
Folding up my coat and book
Framing me and my better half
Flying to him, saving myself
You chose to waste away
Blame it on the rum and coke
Blame it on your better half
Blame it on your entire self
The same wintry afternoon
I chose to work away
Flaming on my jive and jokes
Flaming on my better half
Flaming on my chosen self
This has been going on and on
We chose to shoo away
Wasting on our life and folks
Wasting on less-than-halves
Wasting on, wasting ourselves
I'm sorry, sullen and can't go on
I'm choosing to fly away
Folding up my coat and book
Framing me and my better half
Flying to him, saving myself
Of Donkey, Demons, and Diabolical Death
At the Kala Ghoda Arts Festival, I checked out a few documentary films. One of them has its imagery stuck in my head. It's about the Mumbai terror attacks in 2008 - Subodh Kerkar did an art exhibition on the attacks using photos, sculptures, and fixtures. The documentary film documented the making of the exhibits. If someone gets a chance to check it out, please do! It's worth it!
This is an image of an invite to the original exhibition. And even further down is a startling image from the photoshoot!
This is an image of an invite to the original exhibition. And even further down is a startling image from the photoshoot!
Phallacies are ours, and are phalluses
So long, we say to us
It's seven and half past
My song's just started
We're almost over
I shy to take the last step
So strong, we've been together
Thinking we're meant forever
The pain's all but thrusting
It's way in, sweet lover
I wince at the last gasp
Stay, stay, stay
Play, play, play
Lay, lay, lay
By me one last time
The wrong, it's not either's
Our minds, and their defects
Will tread the mine-fields
Of each other, all the while we're together
We were gone, blacked out for an hour, but now
The words, the darts are over
This song's all but over
And we're not, just like we were
But stonger by a feather
Stay, stay, stay
Play, play, play
Lay, lay, lay
By me one more time
And never goodbye me
Never ever goodbye me
Please don't say that you won't
I can say I won't
Ever goodbye you
Hello my love, forever
It's seven and half past
My song's just started
We're almost over
I shy to take the last step
So strong, we've been together
Thinking we're meant forever
The pain's all but thrusting
It's way in, sweet lover
I wince at the last gasp
Stay, stay, stay
Play, play, play
Lay, lay, lay
By me one last time
The wrong, it's not either's
Our minds, and their defects
Will tread the mine-fields
Of each other, all the while we're together
We were gone, blacked out for an hour, but now
The words, the darts are over
This song's all but over
And we're not, just like we were
But stonger by a feather
Stay, stay, stay
Play, play, play
Lay, lay, lay
By me one more time
And never goodbye me
Never ever goodbye me
Please don't say that you won't
I can say I won't
Ever goodbye you
Hello my love, forever
Find your blemish in another
One of the biggest feelings of relief in everyday life is to find somebody else in the who is as crazy/neurotic/obsessive about something you are too. And I'm not talking about it in the negative way at all. The other day, I and SM (the colleague from office who has suddenly leapfrogged from nowhere to become one of my dearest friends) discovered one more of these between the two of us - a requirement to plan for social outings and stick to the plan.
Both I and her (and for that matter Vinokur too) require dinner plans, hang out plans to be defined and structured at the earliest possible opportunity. It's a pain that people don't understand how important this is to save time and to avoid unnecessary mental qualms. Usually, arriving at a date is done and the nitty gritty of the time, and in some cases the location, is not decided. The decision is put off until the last minute, thus wasting a lot of time and mental energy.
Some other times, decisions are made within the subconscious and are expected to be transmitted through some advanced telepathic communication devices. This could perhaps work out in the Matrix, or in an Asimov novel - but not in present day real life, honey! Why is communication so diffcult and apparently intimidating in this the second decade of the new millennium?
Such questions, when posed, are either met with another phase of unresponsiveness, an outcry of denial of wrongdoing mashed with imposition of inhumane rules, or rage. The result, unfortunately, whichever the outcome, drives the initiator/perpetorator mad and sometimes feeling guilty for a commendable deed! I am a very common recipient of this hurt. How I wish sometimes if I had a neuronal whip from the same Asimov novel to beat these apparently ruthless souls to submission.
Hope's always the cure for the eternal optimist, but it is mischievous! The one unblasphemized result is the joy of finding that you are not alone in this cruel cruel world. So get out there and mingle and find similar blemishes in others!
Both I and her (and for that matter Vinokur too) require dinner plans, hang out plans to be defined and structured at the earliest possible opportunity. It's a pain that people don't understand how important this is to save time and to avoid unnecessary mental qualms. Usually, arriving at a date is done and the nitty gritty of the time, and in some cases the location, is not decided. The decision is put off until the last minute, thus wasting a lot of time and mental energy.
Some other times, decisions are made within the subconscious and are expected to be transmitted through some advanced telepathic communication devices. This could perhaps work out in the Matrix, or in an Asimov novel - but not in present day real life, honey! Why is communication so diffcult and apparently intimidating in this the second decade of the new millennium?
Such questions, when posed, are either met with another phase of unresponsiveness, an outcry of denial of wrongdoing mashed with imposition of inhumane rules, or rage. The result, unfortunately, whichever the outcome, drives the initiator/perpetorator mad and sometimes feeling guilty for a commendable deed! I am a very common recipient of this hurt. How I wish sometimes if I had a neuronal whip from the same Asimov novel to beat these apparently ruthless souls to submission.
Hope's always the cure for the eternal optimist, but it is mischievous! The one unblasphemized result is the joy of finding that you are not alone in this cruel cruel world. So get out there and mingle and find similar blemishes in others!
Engayging Lives - the documentary
About a few months back, a charming young woman felt attracted to me. She was disappointed when she came to know about my preferences from T. However, this resulted in her friend from Sophiya College, also charming, getting in touch with me regarding a documentary film project.
One thing led to another and zoop forward, they loved me and this blog. Hence they have titled it 'Engayging Lives' and I'm a character. I'm writing the background score for the movie, which is in the editing stages. This movie also features many blogdosts and gay icons (e.g., Nitin Karani from the Humsafar Trust). So a lot to look forward to, eh?
Well, the movie will be screened on the 26-28th of this month at the Sophiya College! I guess I can say that all of you are invited!
One thing led to another and zoop forward, they loved me and this blog. Hence they have titled it 'Engayging Lives' and I'm a character. I'm writing the background score for the movie, which is in the editing stages. This movie also features many blogdosts and gay icons (e.g., Nitin Karani from the Humsafar Trust). So a lot to look forward to, eh?
Well, the movie will be screened on the 26-28th of this month at the Sophiya College! I guess I can say that all of you are invited!
The Floating Doll
The smile. Innocence puppetified?
The dimples. Too dramatized?
Thin arms. Too thin and rarefied?
The scene, all the dirt is justified
The act. Can it be classified?
The drain. All guts clarified?
The pain. Not one's satisfied!
And now, its allegorified
Is she me, demagnified?
Am I her, dissatisfied?
This life. Am I too qualified?
I'm afloat, perhaps unjustified
For reasons well publicized
Due to pills well advertised
I hope it's all justified.
The curious case of self-flagellation
As I'm resocializing and resocia-gayzing rampantly these days, I am posed one question quite frequently - a little too frequently for my comfort.
'I haven't heard from/seen you in ages! How/where have you been Kris?'
My answer always has been in either of two forms. The rather bland and gentle one goes like this — 'I've been up and down a lot, more down than up. But I'm up now!' The more edgy answer intended to hurtle a jaw or two over a cliff goes like this — 'I have been suffering from clinical depression with suicidal tendencies. Thankfully, my friends (boyfriend in particular) and dear therapist (friend) managed to help me out of it. I'm on medications now — anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, and anti-anxiety drugs. I'm much better now. Thanks! Have you ever considered suicide?'
When I say 'up and down', I mean it. I'm suffering from type 2 bipolar disorder bordering on unipolar depression. If it is indeed unipolar, the times when I surface from the depths of depression (to near normalcy) represent the manic phases of bipolarity. Either way, my phrenus is fluctuant. A status message on my office private messenger summed it up nicely — 'Kris is up and down like a BMC-repaired road'.
This weekend was an uncharacteristically typical up and down one for me. Here’s a recap.
Friday night: It was a mad night at a music awards ceremony where I hung out with friends (read superstars and rock icons), got drunk, hit on a my-type-of-hunk singing legend and gave him my number, then got dared to take off my shirt for a Bollywood/rock diva in exchange for her taking her shirt off (this incident got covered in Bombay Times today), and finally retching and throwing up on my way back in the cab and in my apartment, before crashing.
Saturday morning: Woke up with a hangover and bilious gastritis — it was as if my liver was saying 'Get a life, jerk!' Then, for the first time in a year, I welcomed one of my dear office colleagues to my apartment. She was there to give me company during the shooting of a documentary film about openly gay people — the film title 'Engayging Lives' is derived from Here’s Truly. It was supposed to be shot a month ago and I was one of the main characters in the film; well, until my depression destroyed any possibility of me being a part of it. After starting therapy and somewhat stabilizing on it, I had gotten in touch with the charming girls from Sophiya college and they gave me another chance to be a visual part of the film — I'm doing the background score for the film anyway.
Saturday evening: After that, I had a fantastic gig with Shoonyas when we performed as an opening act for Agnee at VJTI college in Matunga. We did a quite remarkable set that was a crazy mix of rock and Bollywood. Three of my dear colleagues from my workplace were there to make the evening special. I can’t believe the support I get from my office - thanks so much! That, however, was the end of the high.
Then, I was set up for a traumatic and humiliating dinner invitation that I would not like to dwell on — apart from a salad that I tossed together, and a few moments clicking two lovers making out, I felt really horrible. My pills were there in the background but the self-flagellation was severe. This must have triggered my insecurities which led to me having an intense argument with Vinokur, which pushed me to the limits of masochistic depression. I could feel myself conjuring up plots and subplots in my mind, each and every step meant to hurt me a little deeper.
Luckily, thanks to just Vinokur, I was rescued once again and we somehow managed to get me to sleep without more mutual trauma! Sleep seems to be one potent douser of my flames.
Sunday morning: I woke up feeling much better and had a nice, long Skype conversation with Vinokur. Intense multi-tasking ensued and I started feeling like my old self — capable and confident. Moreover, I agreed for a date with a rather mysterious person, which I've been procrastinating for months if not years. A walk down the Juhu beach with him and his dog, and a relaxing conversation over tea later laid the background for an interesting prospect.
Sunday evening: After the date, I went to my first GB meet in months — mainly to meet up with the dear aunt of a friend. During the entire meet, I was keying things on my PDA, not speaking unless being specifically asked to. Later, I invited my favorite aunt to be my date for Valentine's Day! On my way back, a series of incidents including self-deprecatory humor, inability to remember the name of the book that I had read (Ellie Wiesel's 'Night'), and a couple of inflammatory FB threads bared everything in me in under half an hour. I knew I was going down to self-created whiplashes from my delusional world, but couldn't stop myself.
Ironically, an FB chat with one of my erstwhile co-residents from the hospital, during which my friend proved how narrow-minded, conservative and rude Indian society could still be vis-á-vis homosexuality and a coming out situation. However, I defended valiantly without losing my calm despite my pride being at stake. This chat made me realize that I'm good after all, and that my return to practicing surgery in the myopic and treacherous environment of the hospital would be difficult if not impossible.
It's amazing how masochistic depression can almost whip you down to nothingness. For those who are suffering from the same, or those who know of people who do, please help yourself and others to overcome this!
'I haven't heard from/seen you in ages! How/where have you been Kris?'
My answer always has been in either of two forms. The rather bland and gentle one goes like this — 'I've been up and down a lot, more down than up. But I'm up now!' The more edgy answer intended to hurtle a jaw or two over a cliff goes like this — 'I have been suffering from clinical depression with suicidal tendencies. Thankfully, my friends (boyfriend in particular) and dear therapist (friend) managed to help me out of it. I'm on medications now — anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, and anti-anxiety drugs. I'm much better now. Thanks! Have you ever considered suicide?'
When I say 'up and down', I mean it. I'm suffering from type 2 bipolar disorder bordering on unipolar depression. If it is indeed unipolar, the times when I surface from the depths of depression (to near normalcy) represent the manic phases of bipolarity. Either way, my phrenus is fluctuant. A status message on my office private messenger summed it up nicely — 'Kris is up and down like a BMC-repaired road'.
This weekend was an uncharacteristically typical up and down one for me. Here’s a recap.
Friday night: It was a mad night at a music awards ceremony where I hung out with friends (read superstars and rock icons), got drunk, hit on a my-type-of-hunk singing legend and gave him my number, then got dared to take off my shirt for a Bollywood/rock diva in exchange for her taking her shirt off (this incident got covered in Bombay Times today), and finally retching and throwing up on my way back in the cab and in my apartment, before crashing.
Saturday morning: Woke up with a hangover and bilious gastritis — it was as if my liver was saying 'Get a life, jerk!' Then, for the first time in a year, I welcomed one of my dear office colleagues to my apartment. She was there to give me company during the shooting of a documentary film about openly gay people — the film title 'Engayging Lives' is derived from Here’s Truly. It was supposed to be shot a month ago and I was one of the main characters in the film; well, until my depression destroyed any possibility of me being a part of it. After starting therapy and somewhat stabilizing on it, I had gotten in touch with the charming girls from Sophiya college and they gave me another chance to be a visual part of the film — I'm doing the background score for the film anyway.
Saturday evening: After that, I had a fantastic gig with Shoonyas when we performed as an opening act for Agnee at VJTI college in Matunga. We did a quite remarkable set that was a crazy mix of rock and Bollywood. Three of my dear colleagues from my workplace were there to make the evening special. I can’t believe the support I get from my office - thanks so much! That, however, was the end of the high.
Then, I was set up for a traumatic and humiliating dinner invitation that I would not like to dwell on — apart from a salad that I tossed together, and a few moments clicking two lovers making out, I felt really horrible. My pills were there in the background but the self-flagellation was severe. This must have triggered my insecurities which led to me having an intense argument with Vinokur, which pushed me to the limits of masochistic depression. I could feel myself conjuring up plots and subplots in my mind, each and every step meant to hurt me a little deeper.
Luckily, thanks to just Vinokur, I was rescued once again and we somehow managed to get me to sleep without more mutual trauma! Sleep seems to be one potent douser of my flames.
Sunday morning: I woke up feeling much better and had a nice, long Skype conversation with Vinokur. Intense multi-tasking ensued and I started feeling like my old self — capable and confident. Moreover, I agreed for a date with a rather mysterious person, which I've been procrastinating for months if not years. A walk down the Juhu beach with him and his dog, and a relaxing conversation over tea later laid the background for an interesting prospect.
Sunday evening: After the date, I went to my first GB meet in months — mainly to meet up with the dear aunt of a friend. During the entire meet, I was keying things on my PDA, not speaking unless being specifically asked to. Later, I invited my favorite aunt to be my date for Valentine's Day! On my way back, a series of incidents including self-deprecatory humor, inability to remember the name of the book that I had read (Ellie Wiesel's 'Night'), and a couple of inflammatory FB threads bared everything in me in under half an hour. I knew I was going down to self-created whiplashes from my delusional world, but couldn't stop myself.
Ironically, an FB chat with one of my erstwhile co-residents from the hospital, during which my friend proved how narrow-minded, conservative and rude Indian society could still be vis-á-vis homosexuality and a coming out situation. However, I defended valiantly without losing my calm despite my pride being at stake. This chat made me realize that I'm good after all, and that my return to practicing surgery in the myopic and treacherous environment of the hospital would be difficult if not impossible.
It's amazing how masochistic depression can almost whip you down to nothingness. For those who are suffering from the same, or those who know of people who do, please help yourself and others to overcome this!
Lust in a Train
He sits across a couple of rows
A fleeting glance, it gets locked
I gaze out the window
Turn my head, I'm locked too
Perfection. The look. There is no other word
Polar opposite otherwise, I presume
Salt and pepper, looks clever
Sharp nose, trimmed black 'stache
Long fingers, three rings
Tucked out shirt, no binger
Fair and handsome
A product of the genes and not a factory
But, there is a Crimson tilak,
Probably listens to Uddhav, the shark
Has a wife, an ugly beast perhaps
And has a business that pays him in heaps
But again, conservative, religious,
And worried that I'm looking back at him
I chew the salted nuts, hoping they could be his
He shifts uncomfortably, and starts his routine prayer
Should i leave him alone?
He's too good to look at!
Is he going to come home?
He's too proud to do that!
I stare on and on, and
every thirty seconds, he catches me
Just the fleeting glance of lust
Of what he lost out on
Because society forced it on him
Society overcame him then
It does now too
The seat vacated next forces him
To readjust himself significantly
So that our eyes won't meet anymore
I start typing this
I get busy at this
Five minutes on, I look up
He's still staring at me
He wants me, but he can't
I want him, but I won't
He dozes away at Bandra
His head bounces up and down
I wish, oh how I wish, I were the reason
And not the train and the gaps in the tracks
And then a crowd blocks my vision
Hell, I won't mind pulling a Kasab, to get my view back
And then I see him staring at me
Eyes locked, not wavering
Had he decided that Sena is sin?
And sodomy is in?
I feel the stirring, a bit of hope
The train will be near empty, it's Dadar
It's my stop but I'm lost in him
And I don't feel sorry
Not for me, but only for him
I feel happy that I made a Sainik
Regain his conscience
Perhaps it's not much
But it's a start, or a semblance
A fleeting glance, it gets locked
I gaze out the window
Turn my head, I'm locked too
Perfection. The look. There is no other word
Polar opposite otherwise, I presume
Salt and pepper, looks clever
Sharp nose, trimmed black 'stache
Long fingers, three rings
Tucked out shirt, no binger
Fair and handsome
A product of the genes and not a factory
But, there is a Crimson tilak,
Probably listens to Uddhav, the shark
Has a wife, an ugly beast perhaps
And has a business that pays him in heaps
But again, conservative, religious,
And worried that I'm looking back at him
I chew the salted nuts, hoping they could be his
He shifts uncomfortably, and starts his routine prayer
Should i leave him alone?
He's too good to look at!
Is he going to come home?
He's too proud to do that!
I stare on and on, and
every thirty seconds, he catches me
Just the fleeting glance of lust
Of what he lost out on
Because society forced it on him
Society overcame him then
It does now too
The seat vacated next forces him
To readjust himself significantly
So that our eyes won't meet anymore
I start typing this
I get busy at this
Five minutes on, I look up
He's still staring at me
He wants me, but he can't
I want him, but I won't
He dozes away at Bandra
His head bounces up and down
I wish, oh how I wish, I were the reason
And not the train and the gaps in the tracks
And then a crowd blocks my vision
Hell, I won't mind pulling a Kasab, to get my view back
And then I see him staring at me
Eyes locked, not wavering
Had he decided that Sena is sin?
And sodomy is in?
I feel the stirring, a bit of hope
The train will be near empty, it's Dadar
It's my stop but I'm lost in him
And I don't feel sorry
Not for me, but only for him
I feel happy that I made a Sainik
Regain his conscience
Perhaps it's not much
But it's a start, or a semblance
Long-distance cross pollination
What's the most important quality that I have? Not a difficult question for me - the ability to make people laugh/smile/feel good about themselves. Vinokur has helped me hone my skills in this department. Humor comes naturally to him too. His brand of humor, which revolves around the skill to surprise people with audacity and innuendos, has seemingly seeped into me as well!
Not just humor - almost the entire psyche, including the positives and negatives, (positives way way more, of course) and negatives, appears to have somehow been injected into me. We think alike, we love alike, we fear alike, and we analyze alike. We complete each others sentences, know each others triggers, are aware of each others sensitivities, and can see and feel the other's mind. Our common friends say that we 'sound' alike in the way we present our thoughts - I guess lexicon transfer is also involved.
I wonder if such 'psychic' transference commonly occurs in intimate emotional relationships. If yes, is it good enough to be seeking - and if not, is this craziness?
For those unaware, such similarities have grown despite a tumultuous long-distance relationship! I wonder what would have happened had I and Vinokur been living together? Would the similarities have been even more evident? Would our omeletees taste the same? Or would we have had lesser cross-pollination of ideation and behavior?
Not just humor - almost the entire psyche, including the positives and negatives, (positives way way more, of course) and negatives, appears to have somehow been injected into me. We think alike, we love alike, we fear alike, and we analyze alike. We complete each others sentences, know each others triggers, are aware of each others sensitivities, and can see and feel the other's mind. Our common friends say that we 'sound' alike in the way we present our thoughts - I guess lexicon transfer is also involved.
I wonder if such 'psychic' transference commonly occurs in intimate emotional relationships. If yes, is it good enough to be seeking - and if not, is this craziness?
For those unaware, such similarities have grown despite a tumultuous long-distance relationship! I wonder what would have happened had I and Vinokur been living together? Would the similarities have been even more evident? Would our omeletees taste the same? Or would we have had lesser cross-pollination of ideation and behavior?
QOL
I always wonder an acceptable quality of life (QOL) is? Is it intimately related to lifestyle and comfort? Are both the same?
In the last two years of my life as a struggling bachelor/artist, I have passed through the 'virtual' worst possible scenarios. Hunger, poverty, infestations, debt, depression, separation, and a helluva lot more. All through this period, I have seen and sampled many a level of 'living' - almost all of them being socially superior to mine. Most of these instances made me feel insecure, and apart from occasional fugues of mania and appreciable amounts of alcohol in blood, nothing has helped me much from feeling miserable.
Then came the real shit - depression. And even further down the lane came therapy.
Now my perspective has changed. The long and short, the broad and narrow, the deep and superficial, have all ceased to be a ghastly blur. I have started to think rationally and perhaps have started planning - maybe not to the extent that would be considered prudent at my age. I have goals to aim at and landmarks to achieve.
For example - renting a decent one BHK (one bedroom, hall, kitchen apartment - for you non-Indians), occasional partying, a few movies, a relaxed time during weekends, progress in music and editing, holistic improvement, avoidance of wasting time, occasional indulgence, a complete (albeit cheap) wardrobe, vacation, solitude, quietness, enjoying art... The list could go on and on.
Two questions remain:
1. Is this what quality of life means to all of you? I pose this question to my readers.
2. What has changed?
Is it my graduation? Is it the thrilling experience at my job (it's been about a year since I started working)? Reaching the over-hyped landmark of 30 years of age? Therapy for depression? The gradual but progressive weaning from being an eternal optimist/die-hard romantic? Completion of a circle of life? The bitterness of fate? The irony of existence? Love?
In the last two years of my life as a struggling bachelor/artist, I have passed through the 'virtual' worst possible scenarios. Hunger, poverty, infestations, debt, depression, separation, and a helluva lot more. All through this period, I have seen and sampled many a level of 'living' - almost all of them being socially superior to mine. Most of these instances made me feel insecure, and apart from occasional fugues of mania and appreciable amounts of alcohol in blood, nothing has helped me much from feeling miserable.
Then came the real shit - depression. And even further down the lane came therapy.
Now my perspective has changed. The long and short, the broad and narrow, the deep and superficial, have all ceased to be a ghastly blur. I have started to think rationally and perhaps have started planning - maybe not to the extent that would be considered prudent at my age. I have goals to aim at and landmarks to achieve.
For example - renting a decent one BHK (one bedroom, hall, kitchen apartment - for you non-Indians), occasional partying, a few movies, a relaxed time during weekends, progress in music and editing, holistic improvement, avoidance of wasting time, occasional indulgence, a complete (albeit cheap) wardrobe, vacation, solitude, quietness, enjoying art... The list could go on and on.
Two questions remain:
1. Is this what quality of life means to all of you? I pose this question to my readers.
2. What has changed?
Is it my graduation? Is it the thrilling experience at my job (it's been about a year since I started working)? Reaching the over-hyped landmark of 30 years of age? Therapy for depression? The gradual but progressive weaning from being an eternal optimist/die-hard romantic? Completion of a circle of life? The bitterness of fate? The irony of existence? Love?
Life's scapegoat
This is something that I wrote during a bus ride during deep, dark depression. It's not all that great, but this is how you can make use of your transit time. Especially in Mumbai. Get a PDA folks!
Life's scapegoat
I am running away from this
It's not a concrete way to bliss
Hate to realize the fact that it's
Just me being selfish
You don't know how it feels
To have gone past the golden fields
When all that is left behind reminds you
Of all that you left behind
For all those of you who care
Don't lay your hearts out bare
Don't fall into infernal affairs
The world is truly unfair
Life's scapegoat
I am running away from this
It's not a concrete way to bliss
Hate to realize the fact that it's
Just me being selfish
You don't know how it feels
To have gone past the golden fields
When all that is left behind reminds you
Of all that you left behind
For all those of you who care
Don't lay your hearts out bare
Don't fall into infernal affairs
The world is truly unfair
After therapy
20 days back, I started taking my medications. I feel like a different person. Life seems to offer a lot more and opportunities seem to spring out of nowhere.
I feel like dressing up, partying,, getting back on the 'scene' etc. This has to do with shopping and I must be careful about not spending too much. I bought myself an entire collection of hats and stoles the other day. Now, its time for shirts! Everything dirt cheap of course!
More surprises coming up. I'll post a picture or two soon to justify my proclamations!
I feel like dressing up, partying,, getting back on the 'scene' etc. This has to do with shopping and I must be careful about not spending too much. I bought myself an entire collection of hats and stoles the other day. Now, its time for shirts! Everything dirt cheap of course!
More surprises coming up. I'll post a picture or two soon to justify my proclamations!
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