Trigger hippie

For the first time in many months, I'm feeling the pinch of the blues. A feeling of worthlessness is drowning me in and my life suddenly seems pointless. What was the trigger? Well, I'm not quite sure yet. Everything was alright until yesterday (Saturday) afternoon, a routine "off day" on which I chose to work for some extra money via my paycheck at the end of the month, when I had a conversation with my colleague about what I was doing with my life.

She asked me why would I work on an off day instead of relaxing or doing something else. The only answer that I had is that I was desperate for money. I suddenly realized that I am being so desperate to save money that I have censored out pleasure from my life again. I wait for unacceptable periods of time at the bus stops to save some measly rupees. I walk about 2 km up and down (on my way to work and back) to save 2 rupees (for each walk). I divide my lunch into two so that I can eat one portion as dinner. I have stopped watching movies because of the expenses. I have curtailed my party-going and eating out/drinking instincts to save up.

What do I need the money for? I don't quite know. Maybe for the future. The most ironic thing is that I think I'm going to need the money to be in a position to father a kid or two. That's what I have always wanted - to be in a live-in relationship and to be a loving father. But this goal seems to be so far beyond my reach now that there seems to be no point in saving all this money. But I can't help but traumatize myself because that is part of my normal process of coming to terms with the reality.

The rate at which I'm earning right now (in my editing career as well as with music) is definitely not enough for my plans for the unforseeable future. Even if I don't achieve my goals of becoming a parent, with this stream of income, I wouldn't probably have enough to fall back on once I retire. This makes me want to seriously reconsider practicing surgery for a living. But that would mean giving up on music almost altogether, and that is something that I don't want.

I have been brooding over these thoughts and a solution seems to be far from the offing. The one thing that I am glad about is the multitude of well-meaning friends that I have who worry about me and care for how I am. I love them for that. But at the end of it all, I'm here alone having to take care of myself alone. I hope this downspiral does not lead me to another phase of clinical depression where I start contemplating suicide. Honestly, I don't think this is going to happen. But I'll keep you posted on this.

A busy Friday

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The Great Indian Train Journey

The incredible coming out expedition had to end incredibly too. What better setting for that to happen other than a two-day journey in the second-class sleeper coach of a train in India! I'm visibly underplaying the torrid time that I had with noisy college-going adolescents in the bus in which I had to spend the night before getting on the train at Coimbatore, but the train experience is a must-do-in-life for anyone who wishes to travel to or in India.

For those unaware of what such a journey tends to bring forth, there is really no other way but to experience it. To describe it in a few words is impossible but then, I'd be being dishonest with my readers if I didn't try. If you let yourself to open out to the possibilities in such a situation, I think the spirit of India will easily percolate into your soul - the kindness, the warmth, the love on one side versus the nosiness, the noisiness and invasion of privacy etc.

I was in the little section for eight people with a family and two young men. The family was not really a nuclear family - it was an elderly couple travelling with their grand daughter and her grand uncle. They were travelling to Mumbai for a wedding. The grand father in the family was a very handsome older man and naturally, I was immediately attracted to him especially when I saw him cuddling with his dear grand daughter.

Soon, with the the under-current of my innate tendency to get attracted to good looking older men, I started a conversation with the family. Surprisingly, they were fluent both in English and Malayalam and the conversation started became very interesting with a lot of jokes and anecdotes. We shared the food that we had with each other and bought each other the stuff that the pantry people brought to us.

Surprisingly, I was enamored to the grand daughter and started playing around with her. We got so friendly that she preferred to be with me; to have me feed her, to take me along for little walks up and down the aisle and stuff. The expectant father in me sprang to life once more and I thoroughly enjoyed it and revelled in the pride of being able to take care of a 2 year old toddler through their mood swings.

One of the two younger men was a gorgeous looking younger man with very sharp, femme features. He was sitting across me in one of the side seats and we had started talking before my overture towards the grand father in the family. He turned out to be quite a revelation - a professional dirt bike racer and a intelligent and charming conversationalist. I was absolutely sure of his gayness until he mentioned that he had someone special in his life and she doesn't want him to carry on with his racing career. Despite that twist, I'm pretty sure that he is gay and that like many, many other Indians, he was just oblivious of his real self because the force with which the society stifles it.

The other man turned out to be a IT professional who happened to reside pretty close to where I live in Mumbai. He preferred to sleep or be rather reclusive throughout the entire journey - typifying his profession and christian background. The only conversastion that I had with him was when we were about to get out of the train at Mumbai - the conversation was about alcohol - Feni, to be specific - that he had in Goa when he went for his friend's wedding.

The Erstwhile-rs : Cousins

In the last couple of days at sleepy old Thiruvananthapuram during my coming out visit, I tried to spend to catch up with the near, dear and not-so-dear ones from my past. It was not really a ritual, something that you would have wished to avoid but rather, something that was agreeable but was necessitated because of the my absence with my parents for prolonged periods of time. Yes, here I was selfish and selfless at the same time – I depend on my friends and relatives for taking care of my Mom and Dad.

On the third evening, I spent time catching up with my set of paternal cousins (with whom I had a tendency to bond better from childhood) having dinner at one of the quaint restaurant which I used to frequent in the last few years of my life at the town. Four of my cousins, all male offspring of the siblings of my father had met earlier in the day and spent some time listening to the Noise Market songs that I was carrying with me on my mp3 player.

About this – they are very excited about my alter-career. It's not often that fame and glamour embraces our family and when its served in the fashionable form of alternative rock, it is exciting even for me. The point is, very clearly, I was excited to. I played them the tracks which would be coming up in the album on their stereo system and later on in the car-stereo and was explaining to them what the lyric is about in a very cunt-sy way.

We had a great bonding moment when the youngest of them all, the 8 year old bag of naughtiness, decided to pose in front of the restaurant as munnabhai while the fag one, quite deservedly, acted as his make up artist. Inside the restaurant, we talked about each others lives and careers and stuff. The three older ones were all either working or poised to land a job so lucrative that anyone, forget myself, would be ashamed of themselves.

Unlike the last time, however, the conversation seemed to religiously avoid the topic of my marriage and it seemed to me that at least my cousins would have come to know about my sexuality through my web presence. That was a pleasant surprise and I felt the cushion of honesty enveloping becoming fatter and fatter thus avoiding the discomfort of having to live/sit with a bony arse a tad less.

The youngest of them all, the one that I really feel fond of, is an adopted child and I have somehow felt more than his 'big' brother since he arrived in my life. I think it's the father inside me that is being gently thawed out. I sat next to him the entire evening and spent some time teaching him how to eat with a fork and spoon and how to be courteous to a waiter etc.

I'm sure that this young man would not have the faintest clue that I did all this. But this would be treasured with me for the rest of my life. Is it just me or am I getting more romantic and/or archaic these days?