A wallet that made me realize why my childhood was hell

Two days back, I got robbed. I was on a BEST bus on my way from work to the gym. I had two bags with me – the regular backpack strapped up against my back and the gym bag on my shoulder. Because I have a tendency to misplace my wallet, I had made sure that I put it in my backpack after drawing enough money from it for the ride.

It was a crowded bus and I jostled my way to the already-crowded area just behind the driver's set. I positioned myself comfortably after depositing my gym bag in a corner, and started tending to my e-mail and FaceBook. Retrospectively, I recall that there was a young man standing adjacent to me struggling for the same space that I had been occupying.

I remember that he had shifted his position briefly, for a minute or so, during the journey. That must have been to unzip my backpack and steal my wallet. As soon as I got into the gym and started undressing, I checked my bag and realized that I had been robbed. I, thanks to my psycho-pharmaceutical cocktail, did not panic. Instead, I started worrying, and started thinking of myself as a bad person.

I came back home in a very self-flaggellatory mood, but had the presence of mind to cancel all my cards. Vinokur tried to give me advice and encouragement. But I know him too well, and am comfortable enough, to not take any definitive action against my impending implosion. After a few minutes of chatting, I left him alone to pursue things that he enjoys even more – things that bring him consistent pleasure – things unlike me.

One of the first things that I did, as a punishment to myself, was to inform my date – the special person that I have been blogging about, and I'm going to title him M – that I'm canceling the date for the next day evening. He called me immediately, and tried to comfort me, but wasn't able to do much good. I insisted that we should cancel the
date.

The next day (yesterday) morning, I sent M a message telling him that I wasn't feeling better and that we are not meeting in the evening. Then I reached my office and things started to change. People, with whom I was not totally comfortable with, started talking about how often such robbery occurs and started making me feel more comfortable about the reparative process that needed to ensue. That cheered me up. I immediately sent M a message about the turnaround and suggested that we might still meet in the evening.

During the day, I went to one of the banks that I had an account in and started the process to get a new debit card. I drew some money and bought myself a new wallet – a physical entity in my life that reminded me that things weren't all that bad and that I'm not a bad person.

At 5.30 pm, I got a call from a person who had found my wallet in the drain near my gym. He asked me to meet up at a certain place in half an hour. I went there in a rickshaw and met this guy. I got my wallet back – everything intact but the money, including the change. I was so happy to get my license, PAN card, and my medical registration ID – three things that would have taken months to renew/replenish.

To celebrate, I decided to skip the gym and meet M early. I was relieved and feeling much better. We went to dinner at a restaurant called Sheesha. Over cherry/mint-flavored sheesha/hukka, we had a wonderful conversation about the entire incident and why it had triggered such a heavy negative feeling toward me. And then we stumbled on the truth – my childhood!

Practically every day in the tender-age period, I was subjected to things like 'Kris, you aren't a good person!', 'You deserve to be punished!’, 'All the bad things that happen to you is because of the bad things that you do, because you didn't respect elders and God!', 'Kris, look at your cousins. See how good and obeying they are? See how they pray and go to temples. If you don't do all this, you will be a bad person all through your life'. This and more such stuff. Everyday. Every conversation.

This was the reason why I had started hating my home. This was the reason why I was a wreck, an introvert, an angry, obstinate child. This was the reason why I had no friends until I broke out of the shackles in med school after interacting with patients, who talked to me and respected me, who were proud of me. This was the reason I'm scarred for life.

Vinokur's childhood was scarred by his father. M's childhood was similar to Vinokur's, but probably less severe in intensity. I am scarred similar to Vinokur, but my scars are hypertrophying with every passing day, I think. And the psycho-pharmaceuticals aren't helping that much.

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.