gay gollu

unlike the hetro-sexuals, we are not bound by legal, religious or social framework to evolve our courtship into anything that might provide us with ……………… (sometimes it is hard to know what i am missing till i actually have experienced)

in a culture where male bonding is accepted as de-facto, it is effortless to be in an eternal courtship..

yes.. eternal courtship.. is what it is, though we have taken it far beyond the physical etiquettes set by the pre-1950s..

but this courtship..i feel is similar to hetro-sexuals when it comes down to the day-to-day facets outside of the bedroom..

for instance, at the luncheon, a reunion of my college friends, i went with him, like they came with their spouses. we settled around the round table, each of us with our other half… sharing pieces of masala pappad and roties.. while being present with the group, every now and then, involving in a private moment.. sharing a joke, or passing on information or be it just tapping three times, which meant _ _ _ which only we understood..

we took leave from the luncheon, to welcome guests coming come to see the gollu…

as we walked towards the parked vehicle few streets away, we walked hands held…….

yes! holding hands, putting the hand around the shoulder.. slowly sliding the hand to _ _ _  and stopping the hand before it reaches  _ _ _.

isn’t this courtship? isn’t this what people in hetro-sexual courtship do…

as we were driving home, on 8th cross going down towards vyalli kaval we stopped at an gollu shop..

sets of dolls in various concepts.. dashavataras and astha lakshmis in different sizes, temple possession, wedding/reception, sasthi poorthi with their children..

we ended up picking karagattam.. which included an hetro-couple carrying stacked pots on the head, while their four male companions are playing different musical instruments. now the set also had four on-lookers.. two male and two female. which can either be kept as hetro-sexual couple of homo-sexual couples.. since they are not the center of attraction, and are part of the crowd, no one actually notices whether they are gay or straight…

anyway.. so some of our gay friends visited to see the gollu… the fact that it was boys, who came home to see the dolls didn’t raise as many questions as i had expected. questions like .. like why are guys interested in dolls? why are these guys coming as couple..

in fact, when we went to visit the dolls at the neighbors house, she welcomed our curiosity, parted us with tambulas…

if it were not for the socio-economic perks.. something to the effect of rights at work-place, health care facilities, finding a house to live together, saving on the tax…

i think our culture does support (and probably, even makes it easier) for homo-sexual courting.. as long as we don’t tell and they don’t ask..

 

Guilty, but not charged

There was silence. The sun was almost setting and was as bigger and orange as it can get.

Sunny got busy working on rose plants, plucking the leaves that had dark deposits from insects. Atul and I walked towards the rocks, actually four oddly shaped stone boulders the size of a bean bag that were scatterred under the canopys of pungai and parijatha trees.

It was Rex’s Idea to plant those trees, for the fragrance of their flowers and the cool breeze. The fact that the parijatha flowers bloom in the night had always fascinated him. And placing the boulders instead of an carved bench, gave it touch of being away from the tools of civilization. The pungai, when it bloomed, would transform the place into an little white and voilet flower bed..

We stood near the rocks, neigther inclinded to sit down…. my thoughts still pondering over the looming marriage. And Atul might also have been occupied by it, for it affected him at a more personal level than I. It was a topic, we hardly talked about.

“Isn’t there a law against adultery, that could penalize the gay guy cheating on his wife?” I said out loud, not particularly expecting an answer.

“There was! I think.” he stated calmly, adding “until we helped to revoke it”.

“What do you mean?”

“There is an adultery law, IPC 497  i think, that talks about punishing a man who has sex with another mans wife. But there is nothing that stops a married man from either having sex with another unmarried woman or a man.”, he added after a brief puase.  “Of course, the law doesn’t consider gays exist, even though they have decrimilaized sex between men.”

He continued. “As far as the wife filing a complaint about his man having sex with other man (usually it is men), what would she say.. now that 377 does not consider sex between men illegal. The divorce cases that have been filed talk about many other charges, except gay sex.”

I was just listening to him and did not want to interrupt.

“Initially when this girl finds out, she will be too ashamed to take the matter to anyone. She would blame herself. When she gets over that phase, and reaches out to family for help, she will be told to keep quite. Unfortunately, even after knowing the truth, she has to endure him.

There are gay guys who have absolutely no respect for their wife’s views. I know of one case, where the guy left the girl saying he was unhappy with their sexual life. Not letting her know that he was gay and making her think she was the cause of his unhappiness.

Can you imagine what he put her through?”

His eyes were becoming moist.

He finally said, “I feel guilty sometimes Aryan.”

I let him be.

I knew he was referring to that short but traumatic fling (or as he would call a relationship) he had with Madhan in pune. On their third date, Madhan revealed he was married. But it was too late for Atul who was becoming insanely attracted to him. He overlooked the fact, when Madhan said he was not happy in the marriage and is considering a divorce.

Things were going good, until Atul wanted to go hang out with Madhan in the city, movies, dinners. Just spending time at home on weekends wasn’t good enough. Madhan resisted the idea vehemently. And when Atul insisted, Madhan skipped meeting him the following weekend, and the following weekend. There was no response to his calls. Atul was completely shattered. He even messaged saying, he would never ask him to take out. Atul was 22 at that time, and Madhan 32. He begged him to come back in his messages and promised he would not be chlidish again and ask him to take out.

After three months, Madhan called back. He wanted to meet. It was like the old times.

That night, Madhan said. He was put in Jail. His wife had registered a complaint against him and his family saying that they were harassing her. Atul was furious on her, how can she file false charges?

The relationship continued, but on Madhan’s mercy. Atul was never to discuss about Madhan to anyone. He obilized.

Madhan would come to Atul on some weekends and when he din’t he spoke on the phone. As time passed, sex and the talk were not sufficient, an emptiness and strange kind of disgust was eating out the love he had for Madhan.

He started going online. He chatted. And in one such chat, he came across a guy who when talking about mutual friends talked about Madhan. Through him, he came to know that Madhan was meeting that other guy over the weekends, weekends that he did not meet Atul. Atul realized that he was being used only for sex.

He broke up with Madhan.

He was sorry he was furious on Madhan’s wife.

He realized that, he couldn’t bear the thought of Madhan seeing someone else, even though he was not married to him. But he expected Madhan’s wife to be ok with her husband’s affairs.

The sun had set. We three walked into the house.

 

Another Girl to marry a Gay.

“Oh my god!!”, barged in Sandy through the open door. We all turned around to look at him. “What a hottie”, he was saying still looking out through the door, swaying and entering into the house, flaunting his Louis Vuitton brown leather bag.

“Rex, you got to set me up with him”, he declared and turning towards us he realized that Rex wasn’t the only one in the room. “Oops”, escaped him as he saw Sunny fiddling with his rubix cube.

“Don’t mind me”,  Sunny said and went out the door into the Garden.

Sunny always has a way of slipping through when he feels out of place. Even when we first met him at the orphanage, he already had learnt to keep out of grown up talk. We realized it one day Rex and I took him out for a movie.

On the way back in the auto, we both were busy talking about something from the movie, Sunny interrupted us and said. “Are you guys have big people talk?”

I asked him “why he feels like that?”.

He said “Because I want to ask a question?”

I told him to ask.

“What is da?” he said looking at us. Rex and I started laughing. Rex uses “da” a lot and we never could trace the orgin of it when we got curious about that word, and between us we would use da to mean “darling”.

The kid amazes me.

Atul followed Sunny in the garden, after saying a quick hello to Sandy and awkwardly avoiding the cheek to check kiss.

Sandy settled next to Rex on the sofa and continued his chatter. “Is he one? I am sure he is one. Have you done him? Do you talk to him”, he was pouring in his questions to Rex about the hot guy he spotted outside.

Rex was laughing at him, while I was perplexed. I know it is inevitable, that an eye candy triggers the hormones, but isn’t there anything like holding off thoughts?

I wanted to change the topic. “How have you been? Whatz latest?”.

“Oh yeah”, Sandy remembered something. Opening the bag, he pulled out an purple card with silver words, pink flower on the top right corner. He took out an silver inked pen. Wrote something and handed it to me.

A wedding card.

What? With a girl? I didn’t let it out. But held out the card to Rex.

“I am getting married next week in Dharmasthala. It was all so sudden and we don’t have any good date till August. So we decided to get married in Temple.”

Here is a man marrying a girl and leching at the boy next door. Are you sure? I didn’t question him.

“You won’t believe this”, he started off. “I met my fiance’s best friend yesterday and he is so hot. I couldn’t stop flirting with him. I am sure he is bendable. We are going shopping later today..”, he said winking.

“You bugger!”, Rex exclaimed. “Atleast leave her best friend out.”

“Why? If he is willing, why not?” was his reasoning and as if he guessed our next question, he offered. “If he is willing, he won’t tell her. If he is not, and tells her, I will say I was kidding”. He started laughing at his smart answer.

“Do you want coffee or tea?” I asked and hoping I would get away from listening more of this.

“Honey! Don’t bother. I am going to Cafe Reo later. They make exquisite Teas.” He was giving his expert opinion, stressing on ‘Reo’ and ‘T’. “You have got to have it there. Thats the best Tea you can get around here. Of course it is expensive” he never missed a chance at showing off how much he liked spending. And then he was divulging into one of his latest escapedes,  “That reminds me, last time i was there guess who I bumped into”.

I didn’t want to guess or be part of the discussion. I excused myself to go check on Sunny and Atul.

As I was walking out the door, I could hear him wishper to Rex, but loud enough for me to hear. “He still doesn’t like me that much. Does he?”

I was out of there.

Another Girl.

I could never figure out how to deal with such situations. After all these years, it still puzzles me when a gay friend decides to get married. Reason, usually one of Family pressure, want of a stable companion, i am bisexual, i only enjoy sex with men but there is no emotional connection..

There are working marriages too. As long as the man is getting what he wants when he is away from the wife, out of town or if wife has gone to deliver his baby or when he is on office trip..

And then there are divorces, some uglier than the other.

Does the girl have the right to know his guys past life or what he does after the marriage? Or is it ok as long as he can keep it out of her and is providing her with whatever she needs?

Should I be calling that girl and informing her?

Sunny and Atul were watering the remaing plants. I went and announced, “Sandy is getting married”. Atul kept quiet.

“To a girl?” Sunny looked surprised. “Is he not gay anymore?”

I had no answer to the kid.

 

Decent Gay Party

“Party!!”

Sunny, my twelve year old son, startled us, by saying those words so loud that we both stopped what we were discussing and looked at him. He was coming out of his room after long nap, and must have overheard Atul insisting me to arrange for ‘party’ at home.

“That would be cool”, continued, full awake now. His eyes, gleaming with excitement.

“Hmmm. Lets check with dad”, I said.

“You and uncle can convince him.. Rite? Uncle?”, he was searching for an answer in our blank expressions. “Well, I will ask Dad!”, he said running out into the garden where Rex was watering plants like he does every weekend….

I was standing at the window, watching him leaping, in big steps towards Rex..

Atul, came up to me and staring out at them said..

“Aryan, ….”.

The words failed him…

But I could imagine what he wanted to say and why words failed him..

For, what words could describe the sight in front of us. Rex, all loving cheerful dad, listening to the excited child Sunny, walking hand in hand towards us..

For, what words could describe the joy that comes after overcoming the apprehensions of raising a child by a gay couple in India. Apprehensions that were vanquished mostly by the innocent and mature Sunny who turned out to be more than we ever hoped for in a child..

Sunny was seven, when we got him home. It is hard to believe, he is already twelve… It seems like, he has only been with us for a week and yet, we can’t imagine our life without him..

And those two years, spent in convincing everyone that we could adopt him, is like a nightmare that never happened..

“Whatz with the party?” Rex asked, smiling at us.

“Ask Atul, it is his idea.”, I pointed to Atul.

Atul was hesitating to say why he thought I should be arranging for a party, in front of Sunny..

I nodded, indicating him to repeat it..

“I was thinking” he started hesitatingly, “during the next months g… (he was careful to use the word) pride, after the parade, we could have a small party here, play one of the movies, have dinner and desserts, may be a potluck…”

Seeing that, neither I nor Rex were making any comment, he added.

“And more over, you guys are yet to treat us all for getting into a relationship. It is going to be 10 years this coming june.. isn’t it?”

We  hardly had any gatherings at home since Sunny arrived and we never went to any party. Sunny has accepted Us, but is he old enough to face the gay crowd? It will some day face it with or without us, but should we take the chance?

Would be be ok with the overly affectionate hugs and kisses that are inadvertantly exchanged between gay friends? Can we have him around gay friends whose type is young twinks? How would he react to the gay comments and jokes that might be passed at him or around him?

After that long pause, it was not I or Rex but Sunny that said. “Dads, please.. lets have the party. I want to invite my friends, I want them to come and see that gay people have decent parties too.”

Hmmm. Can we have a decent gay party?

 

Maurice – Love in theory, and Love really.

I laid down Maurice, and kept looking at the little black book. The characters that E.M Forester found nearly a century ago, still exist in flesh and blood. Time has passed, rules have been altered but the characters remain.

—————————————————————————————–

What is felt, may not be expressed. What is expressed may not be felt.

The clarity that comes through theory, may get crumpled with an simple stroke of practical experience.

Such is(was) the love between Maurice and Clive.

Clive professes “Our love is same as the love in Phaedrus. The love of soul”. He has formulated a clear theory of his being and the nature of his attraction towards same sex, based on his ardent reading of translated works from Greeks passed down through generations of interpretations. His want of the supreme love, the love of the soul, the platonic love between two men drives him to Maurice.

While Maurice, the half-wit who finds philosphical dialogues (or rather monologes from Clive) to be charming nonsense, but acknowledges his unexplainable and unspeakable  attraction and attachement towards Clive as love. His being shatters when Clive doesn’t talk to him. He is overjoyed in Clive’s company, though he doesn’t ascribe or understand what Clive says. He can spend days and nights with Clive. He can abstain and restrict from physical intimacy as long as Clive is with him.

Years are added to their platonic love, in which they are together on weekends and Wednesdays without fail. For the outside world, they are the best of friends, while in private they stroke each others hair and kiss on the cheeks in moments of extereme vulnerablity.

Maurice, the crude and unread revels in the joy of finding an companion. But for Clive, the attainment of supreme love doesn’t provide him with satisfaction as it ought have.

Clive reasons that the answers of his dissatisfaction can only be found in Greece.

As he watches the ruins of Greece that remain today, his theories come crumbling down. He declares, he is not in love and sends his platonic lover a message. “I am normal now.”

Maurice doesn’t comprehend and can never comprehend for the rest of his life.

For, Maurice become normal the day, the guilt of being born with a desire to love the same sex was dispelled by the love for Clive and the love that Clive acknowledged.

He saw God in their Love, and their Love like God is now saying that “he was not normal”.

….

Maurice meets Alec eventually, and finds love in its crudest form which includes the desire to live and lust for, each other. They go on to break the barriers of society at different levels, not to change the world, but to be as they feel.

They discover love, through their basic instincts.

They never looked for answers in the plato or paul.

 

Long Drive – Part 5 : Direction

I had to change my direction, turn around and head for home…

At some point…sooner than later and sooner the better…but not now….

Home..The very mention of Home, would have under other situations, lured comfort.. but now, it was discomfort caused by the possibility of being haunted by the memories of his presence in the house from couple of days ago.. Wish I had never taken him home, but then once I have taken him into the heart (or brain), was there any point of shielding him from entering the home..

Car.. like home was another serene abode, until now that is… An vivid image of him sitting there and his last verbiage echoing loudly within, it was becoming a turmoil…

The urge to stop the car was mounting… The thought of having to change the course, either to stop or head in the right direction, seemed like an impossible feat in current state of mind..

“Mind. Yes, It is all in my mind. Take control”, it was just a feeble thought, that was trying to voice, the thought that is expressed by all those self management books.. but the attempts of that positive thinking thoughts couldn’t raise through the Grief and Pain caused by an unseen unknown wound…

“I am driving in the wrong direction”, another thought tried to break through.. but I kept driving..  There was no strength left within me to change anything…

But something changed…

It was the senses that were attached to the eyes, that noticed the change.. The periphery senses alone can’t determine anything, they need help from the other parts of the brain, but every cell in the brain was busy.. There was reluctant to entertain external information..

The mind is a strange organ that seems to defy every other organ and their will.. Or is it the heart.. doesn’t matter which, there is definetly an organ that defys basic and natural senses… whose actions are at times beyond any established rationale..

But the other organs don’t give up so easily either, they have survived millions of years of evolution and they know that they have to perform their well conditioned duties.. The eyes persisted in capturing the change and kept conveying the stimuli until they were acknowledged… The mind waved the change by loosely linking that stimuli as “blinking lights”…

Once a object of interest or distraction makes its way into the mind, it is hard to take the focus.. Soon, the source of the “blinking lights” was identified as the “rear view mirror or the car” and then the initial analysis of the change was refined from “blinking lights” to “flashing red and blue lights”…

Traffic Cop!

Damn!

Reflexively, my eyes glanced at the speed dial.. the needle was fluctuating between “20 and 40″, “well within the range for snowy days”.

There was no other car in sight at the moment and so the lights were intended for me.. Only one thing can be done at the point, however inconvinent…

I flashed my rear right lights and tried to pull over.. the tires seemed to defy my maneuvering. of course they would, with the snow piled up, the only way is to go straight. going any other way other than straight, would send me sliding into the woods.

I kept moving and the flashing lights kept following me. I took the right at the next exit and followed the thin roads off the highway, pulling into an parking lot of some store (or may be it was a garage, given its proximity to the highway and the vast parking space, given that there were no lights whatsoever).

The cops car was parked behind mine, the lights stopped flashing. I turned my engine off, waited for the cop to approach. A flash light turned on from his car, the door opened and he stepped out into the snow.

His form disappeared from the rear view mirror in to the blind spot, but the reflection of the light was moving closer. He was tapping my window, focusing the flash light on me. I slid the window down.

“Good evening officer!”, the thing about talking to strangers is they wouldn’t be able to make out the change in the voice based on the emotions, unless ofcourse the emotions become hysterical. But, hysteria isn’t what happens with unknown invisible pain..

“May I see your driving license please?”, he said. It was pure business for him. Wonder if he had nothing else on his mind, but who cares….

I reached out for the valet in the coffee holder, and pulled out the car manual from the front case, took the registration card and handed it along with the license from the valet.

He looked at those for few moments.

“Where are you going sir?”, he asked.

I knew i was going in the wrong direction but didn’t know where I was headed. “Going home” and added “to wayland. I missed a turn, I was planning on heading back.”

He looked at the driving license again as if confirming the home address, and  and asked. “Do you know why I stopped you sir?”

“No”.

“Your headlights were not turned on”.

“What?”

“Your headlights where not turned on”. He repeated. Maybe he thought I didn’t catch his accent. He didn’t catch the puzzlement in my voice.

“I am sorry, I didn’t realize that. I dropped a friend at the bus stop at white river junction. And got on to the road”. I offered as an explanation.

“I thought there might some problem with the lights”, he gave me that puzzled curious tell-me-you-are-kidding stare…

“They are fine”. I started the car and turned on the lights.. to prove I meant it.

“All right sir, I will give you a warning for driving without lights. I will not fine or add points to your license”.

“Sorry officer” I said and soon followed it by “Thanks officer.”  I didn’t know what else to say.

“I will be right back”. He took the license with him, giving back the registration paper.

What just happened? How could I not realize that I hadn’t turned my head lights on? I was seeing the road and I looked out.. it was night, but not dark. The snow has that effect, everything is covered in white, even a small street light can reflect and make it look bright. I was mulling over my stupidity, and thoughts were about the ponder into the cause of my absent mindedness, when the officer arrived back at the window.

“Here is your license”, he gave the card and handed me an slip saying “and this is the warning.” He added. “There is a tourist stop couple of miles from here, you could stop there and get your directions, if you like” he said.

“Thank you officer”.

“Have a safe drive sir”.

He went back to his car, and he waited for me to start my engine and get onto the road. He seemed to make sure I was safely on the road, before he turned on his engine and headed back to the highway.

I slowed down, so that he could pass.. I decided not to head towards the tourist station, and instead decided to take an u-turn back to the bridge where I missed the right turn..

Everything is going to be ok…

Right Direction. Thanks to the officer.. I was heading home..

It was also the direction towards the white river junction.. towards him…. Was it still going to be the right direction.. there was a doubt that accompanied ‘what if i miss the turn again?’ there was no room for what-ifs…

The Grief was trying to gush out in the form of a cry, but it found no way out…

And just like that, I was snapped out of everything-is-gloomy-in-the-world to it-is-going-to-be-fine moods…

 

Long Drive – Part 4 : Reason to Part

“Clubs” he said, “are depressing” and after a small pause he added “to me”.

Those words came out without providing any context, except that he had seemed lost in thoughts for a while now. It has already been four hours since we left Boston, having slowed down by the snow, we drifted into different thoughts and possible different worlds, though confined in the car.

We almost reached end of route 89, heading towards the Bus stop in White River Junction.. In a few minutes, I would be dropping him and will have to head back.. In a few minutes, I may be seeing him for the last time.. In a few minutes, I was hoping he would ask me to stay back.. As we got near that junction, I was fighting with hope and hopeless thoughts..

His words, were not particularly aimed at me, but I was the only other person in the vicinity, stranded in the car with him in a slow moving bumper to bumper traffic.

He reformed the statement..”There is something depressing and disgusting about clubs and meeting people there!”

“Why?” The question definitely formed as a reflex in me, but I couldn’t muster to say it loud. The implication of the statement was engulfing my senses. The senses were combating the shock of the statement and the fact that we met in a club. The fact that we visited more clubs, danced in the clubs.

He didn’t need my prompting to continue voicing his thoughts..

“I am not sure why I even go to gay clubs, they always make me sad.. and the thought of finding love in the club is ridiculous. Of course, People there find love every other night, even if that does not last long. Everyone has slept with a few and is always looking for something new.”

Even if he wanted me to say something, I wouldn’t have been able to. Luckily, or unluckily, he continued..

“I am not saying I am any different from them. But I used to be different. The idea of love was meeting that one person with whom I could spend the rest of my life with. And I thought I had…. ” his voice trailed into silence, and I knew his thoughts wandered again, may be around his forbidden first love..

“Isn’t it disgusting to imagine yourself kissing a person who has kissed half the people in the room?”  I wasn’t sure if that question was pointed at me,  I held my silence..

I am pretty sure, he was thinking “Yuck”.. his whole body twisted and turned which is usually associated with an disgusting or repulsive situation or thought or smell or taste…

He was silent again, but the words he let out started echoing in my mind very loudly. It was hard not to feel that he intended those words towards me, was that whole “yuck” thing about me kissing the black jacket stranger on the night we first met? but then why did he kiss me eventually? why did he accept my proposal to date? Is his venting really about propriety or is there something much deeper than that?

The most mundane task are a blessing in disguise to pull us out of the concussioning thoughts. Driving through unknown roads was a blessing. I crossed the bridge at the end of 89 and asked him for the directions. If not for want of driving directions, I would not have been able to speak another word for a while..

Turning to last page of my notebook he held in his lap, where he had earlier scribbled the route, he said “take the exit onto I-91-N”. I obliged.

He looked out the window, there were big bill boards advertising the malls and the food places near by, he looked at them and said “I think i know how to take you from here” and put my notebook onto the back seat..

It was not long before, we parked in front of a Chinese restaurant adjacent to the bus stop. There was a sign saying, parking only for customers, but we parked it anyway. Who would come out on a stormy night?

The bus was an hour late, people were scattered around the waiting hall in small groups with their luggage.. May be, it was the warmth of the crowd, it was feeling suffocated with the many layers wrapped around me. A stark contrast with the fierce cold just outside that revolving door through which we walked in, where i needed more layers to keep me warm.

I wish I could have waited for the whole hour, but my car that has been so resourceful these past couple of days was outside, parked illegaly, unattended in the snow.

It would soon be covered with snow and the tyres would slip, if i tried to take it out and besides i was longing for the solace of aloneness to get away and fully reflect on the recent revalations from him..

I was with his luggage, as he got back from the enquiry booth…

“They are all waiting for the same bus”, he said “you should get going”.

I handed him the bag, I was carrying.

“Call me once you get home. “, he said.

Waved my hand and walked out towards the door into the freezing cold. Even though I had my gloves and the jacket removed, it didn’t feel that cold. The parting had taken away all the warmth that I had started to feel inside…. The cold bye, was severe compared to the cold of the storm….

 

Long Drive – Part 3 : choices

The angel was still around when we got back in, and the place was still crowded..

I couldn’t help but notice that some feathers from angel’s wing had fallen.. and he seemed a little tired.. and there was an thin layer of dried sweat.. it was very tempting to go and feel him.. and may be pluck a feather or two..

He found some guy he met before and so we were going towards that guy. That guy was very cute.. wore a tight t-shirt that showed off his well built muscles and the v-neck giving an glimpse of the trimmed chest.. he had a nice smile.. and that sexy stubble.. That v-neck guy was with another guy who was relatively quite.. and kept to himself..

I was stealing some looks of ‘v-neck’.. and it seemed like he was returning them.. we were flirting with our eyes.. my fantasy for good looking guys with beard was taking me over….

I knew I wouldn’t be able to make any reasonable conversation with them.. without making my interest obvious.. so I ended up taking the only way out of those two very interesting choices, abandon both of them and look around..

1am.. It is that time of the night where some people indulge in hunting..

I relaxed myself by putting my back to the bar resting my elbows on the bar table where they serve drinks. After 1am.. not many people come to take drinks and it is a cool place to hangout..

I started wandering around the room with my eyes.. At the left corner of the dance floor Drag Queen was leaning towards the DJ… it was kind of dark in there.. the bright TV screen above grabbed by attention..

It was displaying messages sent to some number via mobiles…

User 819> Ron needs it badly
User 820> Can you please play something of P!nk?
User 821> The guy in the straw hat is very sexy..
……

After a quick scan.. I wandered my sight towards the guys on the dance floor and like always that guy in white shoes, skin tight jeans, funky shirt and his ears pierced was in the front.. dancing and looking around the room to see who was watching him.. These days I almost look for him as soon as I enter, as if he is part of club cafe..

The new waiter at club cafe.. the tall one who goes around with a tray of glasses.. was now performing an sleezy number on a pole in the right corner of the dance floor.. There was drunk guy trying to touch his arse, while the waiter was trying to avoid it..

Some guys and girls sitting in the chairs cheering them up…

There was a bunch next to them.. who were just standing and involved in a very serious conversation…. laughing every now and then..

Next.. one guy in late fourties.. short.. and chinese.. looking at no one in particular.. and everyone..

Then that tall guy with a bag hanging around his shoulder, he is another guy I have seen so many time and he is always with that bag even outside the club..

The black guy and his white friend.. the guys who I have noticed together since the time I entered.. the white one seemed to follow the black one.. all around.. and i could not tell if the black guy cared so much… what struck was that the white guy had followed the black one to the rest room and there was some kind of a murmur…

Then a guy in a black athletic jacket, folded hands.. no drinks..

My wandering stopped.

He was looking at me and I hadn’t realized that I was staring at him and I had a smile on my face.. He was still looking at me.. I moved my eyes away from him..

After giving a decent gap of two seconds, moved them back in his direction..

He was still looking in my direction.. he wasn’t smiling.. it was just a stare.. a cold stare…

I made a quick turn to see if i could indulge myself with the company that I already had.. The v-neck was looking at me.. he had that smile.. “i know what you are upto” kinds.. and he looked in the direction of the guy i was looking.. Damn! he knew i was looking at him. I gave him an “Oh well!” smile… We were communicating with out words.. and it did not feel strange..

I turned around to take another quick glance at the black jacket guy..

He was standing next to me on my left.. I looked at him with slightly enlarged eyes.. and the next moment when I regained myself.. I said “Hi”.. or probably i just bowed my head..

No reaction.. he was staring into my eyes.. He was looking much hotter from near.. a well exercised body, clean shaven face.. soft blond hair.. the jacket fit him so well…… just like a mannequin… I was starting to blush a little..

“Hi”.. he said. it was so sudden and quick that i would have missed it if I wasn’t staring back at him.

“Aryan”.. I extended my hand.

“Tom”.. he returned…

“Having fun?” I asked

“Ah”.. he shrugged… Was he or was he not? Well. may be he wasn’t. after a few more seconds of blank stare I introduced him to the guys on my Right..

“These are my friends”.. I said. All of whom I had met a few hours ago…

He moved a little towards them.. and said “Tom” to them.. looking at the extreme right guy.. That guy said “Alex”.. he turned to v-neck.. “Alex” and then he turned towards Him.

He did not say the name. black-jacket waited..for a couple of seconds and was getting impatient… “What is your name?”. he demanded.

“Why do you want to know?”  was His response and after a long pause said.. “What is the point in knowing my name? This will be last time we will see each other..”

It was true, if he went back to India this will be the last time.. but there was certain coldness and certainty in that tone that startled me..

Is he always this blunt? I remembered the way he responded to Willy.. when asked about “type”.

He did not tell his name.. and black-jacket wasn’t pressing it any further..

black-jacket moved back and stood in front of me. And we were back to blank stares…he was starting to annoy me…but his hot fit body was very attractive.. even though he did not have a beard…

why today? May be I could have taken his number and sent him away or I could have probably just excused myself to another room.. but i didn’t.

I was clearly interested in three people to different degrees at the same time.. What a mess!

“Do you wanna dance?” I asked to cut through the awkwardness..

He moved backward, away from the bar.. signing me to move towards him…so I guess that was an “Yes”.

I moved closer to him, away from Him.. Them..

DJ was playing… “I .. just a little bossy… ” or something like that.. I didn’t care much for the music anyway.. But black-jacket was mouthing them.. and he was pretty good in his steps. I was moving along, making random movements..

at some point.. he held my hand.. lifted it up..  gave me a slight push to and turned me around.. and as soon as i turned back towards him.. he started to turn around.. and when he came around to face me.. i lost my balance and pulled him down…

he held me and pulled me back from falling.. that was the first time i saw him show some expression.. he was smiling.. doesn’t matter if that was the expense of an clumsy feet..

i knew that move.. and this time with prior notice.. it was more elegant.. and as if i was to be rewarded he hugged me..

he body was still moving to the music… mine was moving along with his rhythm.. not necessarily in tune with the music playing in the background..

we swayed anyway….

we were of same height… and i could feel my lips trembling with tension.. i couldn’t see his.. and i did not want to.. i was exploring his greenish eyes..

he kissed.. and instantly pulled back his head..

“Sorry”.. he said. still holding me..

“What!”.. I asked…. distancing myself a little from torso and tightening the hold a little..

He shook his head side ways..

After a couple of moments, he looked back into my eyes.. and kissed again.. and this time it was longer.. and his tongue was trying to break in.. and it did not face any resistance from mine.. it was welcomed with a wet tongue..

He did it again.. He pulled back and said “Sorry!”..

I waited… and it repeated again.. and this time when he started pulling out.. i pulled him back in. We weren’t dancing anymore… our hands were feeling each other and the tounges exploring the deepest held secrets..

When we finally parted…. I waited..  He did not say sorry this time.

“Why did you say sorry earlier?” I asked.

“Because I kissed you….” he replied.

“It was good”.. I said. and we kissed again. It didn’t matter that I did not know anything about him.. He was a good kisser. He was mumbling in between the kisses something to the effect that “you are a good kisser”.. “you kiss good”.. “you are beautiful”… and I was shutting him up with a kiss… and sometimes mumbling the same words back at him..

“Do you live in boston?” he asked.. a brand new sentence.. “No”.. I said and it struck me. I was the prey! He hunted me down… and I let him.

I realized I was still in Club Cafe.. It was too late now.. It did not matter if I was being watched….

We kissed again.. and again.. till the lights went on…

We walked towards our company.. I noticed that v-neck was giving his cell number to another cute guy..

The v-neck gave me that “you are mischievous” look.  I returned it with “you too”…

I looked at Him, he gave an very casual indifferent smile…

The club closed…

We said good bye to v-neck and his friend..

“About tomorrow.. Salem.. I will call you…”, he said before taking the cab..

black-jacket and I walked towards my car…

Will he call me? does this change our plans?  of Salem… Photographing Boston skyline… May be I should have not kissed…

Wait.. why am I even thinking about Him and what he thinks about me? Why am I not thinking about the black-jacket….

Was that a wrong turn?

And I was still going the wrong way.. I have to turn around.. at some point…

 

Long Drive – Part 2 : the first spark

I looked at the clock.. the two dots were blinking…. but the digits remained the same…. The station was still playing stuff from the Valley.. it has been only few minutes since i left him at the bus stop.. but it seemed very distant in time..

there was something cold and permanent about the way we said good bye.. a simple hand shake with only a momentary lock of eyes….. no hugs.. no exchange of smiles…. no turning around for that last look as I walked out of the exit….

It did not feel right.. By now, I was supposed to see some sign of inter state 89.. I noticed the signs, several of them.. one every sixth of a mile.. while I was going up to white river junction..

He was going to catch a Bus from there…. The bus that we missed earlier that afternoon and the bus we have been trying to catch up with, the bus which was supposed to be at white river by 5pm.  It was 6pm when we reached the junction, the bus was delayed just like our car….

May be I should have stayed back till the bus arrived.. May be not..

It was easier to leave the place while he was still there.. If not, I probably would have just sat there.. looking at the invisible impression that he would have made only visible in the space of my mind..

I hate saying good-byes…

May be the sign boards are only in one direction.. but that doesn’t make sense, nothing makes sense anymore..

There was no sign in the next minute or two.. or five….

I do not have GPS.. everyone has it these days.. I wish I did.. It has become like a mobile.. people are walking with GPS these days… may be I will just wait for GPS to be integrated into phone.. Google Phone probably has it.. What am I thinking… Why am I even thinking of GPS….. One of the things I am proud of is my driving is my sense of direction, I always get out of the unknown places after exploring them by accident..

Right now.. I had no sense.. whatsoever.. and that included the sense of direction..

I was so occupied by him or the lack of him….

i just wanted to be on the road..

just drive…without thinking..

after few miles and several minutes, i saw Christmas lights through the thick of the leafless trees..  I was certain now..I am going in the wrong direction.. If we had come this way.. i would have remembered..

I would have remembered the twinkle of his eyes from the sight of decorated lights…

I shared a few moments like this in the past few days with him.. the first time I observed that was when he first looked at the Boston skyline from the Mass Ave Bridge….. We were on our way to Club Cafe from Cambridge…

We were still yapping in that front bar, when Willy(william) and Andy(anand) decided it was time to go.  They were going to campaign for Obama the next day in New Hamshire..

“Do you want to come with me for a drive to drop them?” I asked Him.. and quickly added “I am coming back here after..” as if to clarify that I was not interested in taking him to my place.. It was only a casual request…

He took the seat next to me in the car.. We were driving down the New Bury street.. when Andy asked about our Weekend plans.

I had nothing planned….

He was planning on going to Salem…

“Salem! isn’t that where they executed witches?” I remembered reading about it in travel book.. 1000 places you must visit in US.  It had secured an place in my list of places to visit, but I wasn’t very particular about going there this year. But if he is going, why not…

“Yes, do you want to go?” he asked me.

And the plan was made. I broke the obvious rule.. “Never meet a guy two days in a row”.

They were now talking about the clubs in Boston and as if in a morbid way, the conversation turns into comparison..  They were comparing the clubs in Boston with those in New York.. And New York is decidedly more fun.. and who ever says otherwise is kind of looked as uncool.

The club conversation now took its logical turn.. what is your favorite club..

His was Stone Wall Inn.. I had never been there..though I had passed it several times from outside.. I have gone to Monster (Big B.. crossed my mind) which is right across from Stone Wall Inn.. and at the very instance, we were passing by Paradise in Cambridge..

“Thats my bar around here”, I said..

Willy let out a sigh! I think I heard Andy say “it is sleezy”.. and the Willy added.. “oh.. the older men”.. and conveniently added .. “Guy likes older men.”

Yes, It is sleezy.. I was thinking, but it is also true that crowd in Paradise is more diverse and friendlier.. And as far as my liking towards older men.. “Really?”

I probably did say I liked older men to Willy while playing that club game “who is your type?”.  I am amazed at how people can define their type, my type can’t be expressed completely in terms of physical attributes.. May be I was pointing at people who looked like Paul.. older than me.. confident demeanor.. that slight beard…

(Are older men my Type? or was I looking for Paul in other men…)

I looked at him.. He is nothing like Paul in his looks.. He is twenty something.. Has boyish looks.. not really the hunky-dorky-next-door types.. but more of an homely-innocent boyish looks with a pinch of subtle wickedness..

He is not my type….

“What is your type?” Willy was asking him that..

“I don’t really have a type”.. he said..

“What do you mean? what kind of guys do you date?”.. Willy wasn’t going to let it go. He can be very persistent..

“I don’t date”. It was clearly an well rehearsed response.. He was pretty sincere and he meant it. There was no emotion in it.. It came out as a matter of fact. That put Willy to silence for some time..

It was Andy’s turn, he asked him about his job.. He was working for an insurance company and was on an assignment for an year in US. He had spent the good part of it traveling and he had three more months before he was returning to India.

“Are you planning to come back?” Willy asked..

“No…..I guess…… I don’t know……… may be I will come later for another assignment.. I don’t know…”.. he was spacing out..

Did he want to come back and his Job wouldn’t let him? or if there was something else he wasn’t sure about. May be he has a boy friend in India. May be thats why he doesn’t date.. may be thats why he doesn’t want to come back.. I was making up some theories of my own..

We dropped Willy first and after a few blocks.. Andy.. and took the turn back to Club cafe.. and I poped it out….

“What did you mean.. when you said you don’t date?”..

He looked towards me.. “It is a long story…..”

I waited for a few minutes.. but he did offer anything..

“Tell me.. ” I pushed like old friends..

“Later.. ” he said..

I looked at him… to understand what that “Later” meant..

I saw .. a twinkle in his dark black eyes.. a slight curve on his lips.. almost a very subtle smile..an yearning for something….

I followed his eyes towards the left of  my window and there it was…

that mesmerizing sight.. I have spent many a summer evenings savoring…

Random and predictable glitter from Boston sky scrappers.. The stretched square of prudential with a square sandwich on top, with a thin elongated blue tower… the oval spiked crown of copley.. the dark tall flimsy hancock tower reflecting the lights around it.. the golden tomb of the state house..

the dim light at the esplande.. the distant stretch from the financial district.. the hanging bridge with violet illuminated  string.. white and red lights of the speeding vehicles through the storrow drive..

the reflection of it all  in the charles..

He was seeing it now.. just like the way I have been seeing it..

“I would like to photograph this view”.. he said.

“Can you?” I asked…

“I have an SLR, you can’t take with a normal digital”, he understood what I meant without having to say it. I have tried several times before but the lights always blur while I take the photograph..

The passion for an art has a way of bringing out the best in the person and at that moment, he was the most beautiful person for me. He was going on about photography, cameras and his interest of taking up a masters course in photography.. how he likes to travel.. how he prefers photographing objects than people..

his yearning… “I wish I had it with me right now.”

“We could come back here tomorrow night” I told him.. At that moment a private thoughts crossed my mind.. I wish he had more time in US.. I wish I had met him earlier.. It was just a wish!

So we agreed.. the next day we go to Salem and come back to boston for shooting the skyline…..

We headed back to Club cafe and we had about an hour to spend before the doors closed…..

Finally!! there was the sign.. I was driving on 91 instead of 89.. but I had no motivation to correct the course..

I did not want to stop…

I did not want to change…

I was going away from home……

The drive was going to be longer….

 

Long Drive – Part 1 : beginning or the end

It was a long drive home… It is two states away from where I live, more than eight quarter miles..

I would have never imagined myself being there on the last night.. the last night of a long weekend and the last night of a short romance… It is, the only four day weekend, I have in the year. Thanksgiving. It is a tradition to spend time with family and friends.. and I choose to spend it with friends and Him.

I broke the first rule. “Never offer yourself for a guy who is out of town”. Oh, and when one rule is broken.. there is no point in maintaining other rules.. and so I found out, however painful it may be.. I can’t have rules! at least not when it comes to gravitating towards a Guy!

the drive was slow.. ten miles per hour on an seventy five mph inter-state highway, there was slush all over from the first snow of the season.. and the cars were following each other very religiously. they were following the tracks laid down by the vehicles in front of them.. and in turn reinforcing the track they just followed.. a slight diversion from the track, which was now marked clearly by the layer of snow and ice that was untouched by the brutal black tires.. will send the car off the road and possibly into the valley.. or will just make the car turn around and block the entire traffic following it…

on one side of the road was a mountain, the rocks frosted with ice and snow. On the other side.. the snow capped hazy blueish pines glowing in the misty moonless night.. i would have enjoyed the peace and gloominess of the sight.. but tonight, it was very painful…

painful to have an empty seat next to me.. i turned on the radio.. and quickly tuned it to a different channel.. i could not bear to hear the same songs that i heard with him moments ago…

I looked towards the empty seat…. as I reluctantly followed the tracks..

It all started a month ago..

He was sitting on a tall legged bar chair, right across the entrance of the dance room in Club Cafe..long slender legs.. one stretched out, surely touching the floor and the other folded in.. one hand on the round table and the other holding a glass. dressed in full sleeved, round neck blue sweater.. tight jeans..  white and yellow stripped shoe..

he stood out in the crowd… an east-indian face amidst caucasians, blacks, asian and hispanic…that was the first time I saw him..

It was boys night out.. we moved to friday instead of our usual saturday to watch the Halloween Costumes.. another colorful night, that brings out the creative best..

There was an angel with only feathers, an underwear, more like a thong and of course a fine chiseled body. I don’t remember how long we stood around him.. but when we finally made to the corner which was the only place with some space.. the extreme corner where there is a tiny dance floor..

There was something unusual about Club Cafe that night, it was as if Club cafe had put on new costume, it had shed its typical snobbish self.. there were exchange of pats.. flirts.. smiles.. and numbers..

we saw a guy dressed as Nurse, two guys in bath robes, navy men, police officer, a greek noble with a golden crown. and there was a monkey, an corrupt politician. and the best of all Ellen DeGeneres.. she was so Good she could fill in for the real Ellen.. (later I was told she got the best costume for the night…. )

I saw Him again.. he was going for another drink.. he wasn’t smiling.. neither was he not smiling.. there was a certain indifference in his presence..  it was as if he was there and also not there..

One of the boys.. decided to go into the front room and the rest of us followed.. we stood there watching people walk in.. I was still intrigued by the look on his face.. was he new to Boston? does he have friends? Should I go talk to him?

It started to itch..

So I set out to scratch it… back into the dance room.. squeezing my way through the crowded room.. I am sure I must have stopped to see the angel, but I don’t remember anymore….

He was sitting alone in the chair with his drink.. and I walked straight to him.. he looked up at me..

“Hi, I am Aryan”… I said…

“I know”.. he surprised me.

Surely, I don’t forget people.. I sat next to him, waiting to hear more..

“G Aryan.. I have seen you on my friends list on Facebook.”.. he offered as a way to bring me out of puzzlement.

“Which friend?” …. and so we got to talking…

The next thing I remember.. he was hanging out with me and the boys in the front bar room…. It would have been hard to tell that we all had just met him..  He still intrigued me, but he didn’t seem like a stranger or a like new face..

He felt like someone I have known for a while..

Have you ever met a guy for the first time and have felt that you have known him from a long time?

I can only blame that familiarity on the trust that gets attached to a person who gets introduced through a friend. OK.. he wasn’t literally introduced, but he and I had a common friend.. a friend that I trust….