Gaysi: The Gay Desi - Yes, we're legal!

So the guy is Gay. I know it. You know it. Your mama knows it. Your neighbors know it. Your cousins know it. Kanta bhen knows….okay maybe this is stretching it too far. But you get the point, right?

Every single soul belonging to the Page 3 circuit is aware; they gossip, link him with several men (King Khan being the favorite but of course), pick on his dressing sense, his feminine gestures, etc etc. And yet when it comes to openly talking about it, they all seem to shy away. A brilliant example of what we call an Open Secret.

The other day I was once again asked; don’t you think Karan Johar should step out of the closet and thereby be morally responsible towards the Gaysi Community?

My reply – As my darling mama would say *ghanta*. In simple words meaning, fuck shit.

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Over the decades, urban Indian parents have chipped away one reservation after another in the interests of their children’s well-being. Most parents today easily accept that their children may marry someone outside their caste, creed, and even race. They accept their children’s drinking, dressing, and dates. But even the most liberal parents are finding it difficult to consider the possibility that their child may be gay. [Link]

This is a piece written by Manju Sara Rajan for Open Magazine, which briefly touches on the subject of straight Indian parents and their homosexual children.

For a moment it took me back to 80s & very early 90s filmy scenarios. You know the bit where hi-fi bling bling parents learning that their beloved, overly pampered eklauta child has fallen in love, in a high pitched tone utter these very words – Love…tumhe love ho gaya? How dare?

My apologies for this amusing flashback, but the situation today is pretty much the same no? Replace Love with Gay and you have – Tum Gay ho? How dare?

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I was in a perplexed state, didn’t know which route to take. And when you don’t know which road to take, you tend to follow the one that everyone ambles on. I was no different. I thought it was normal to think about girls. So I spent a lot of time thinking about them. Rather forcing myself to think about them, sexually. But, I didn’t have any feeling of sexuality. So to develop one, I used to spend long hours in the bathroom. Forcing myself to think of girls. Every time. But I didn’t feel titillated by their breasts or their feminine charm. I thought I was abnormal. I thought that my abuse is making me asexual. I felt weak mentally. I couldn’t let someone walk on me and leave a negative impact on me for life. Terrible, it felt to reach climax without an orgasm. It was like fighting a battle with my inner self. Nature seemed to be against me.

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I have been asked, more than once & by more than one person, about why the hell would I want to tell my parents about me and The Girl. Some of my cousins feel that I should hide the fact that I’m gay, from my parents, for the rest of my life. A few people have commented on this blog asking about this crazy need to out myself.

I know that they mean no malice & that they feel that they’re perhaps ‘protecting’ my parents. But let me reverse the situation.

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One of my best friends, V, is staying with The Girl & me for a week. V is the kind of crazy, non-judgmental, affectionate friend that everyone should have at least one of.

V was the first friend I ever came out to. He knew of all the problems I was having with my ex husband (they used to be very close friends too.) and had been trying to counsel me. When The Girl & I fell in love, I felt like I couldn’t talk to any of my friends about it because not only was I having an affair, but I was having a lesbian affair.

One day on the phone with V, I started crying and he asked me if there was was someone else. I said, “Yes it’s a woman”. His reply: “omg! Ex is having an affair?!”

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My dad always had this one complaint, “When will you grow up!” till one day he stopped complaining. And no, his death didn’t change a thing. I believe (some) people hide behind (their) immaturities, pretend that they don’t take life seriously and that they are well-in tuned with reality. They are invincible. But the reality of their reality is that they are simply scared; nervous to face their real self and even more petrified to show others their real self. And I was no different.

Coming from an affluent family, I have always lived a well provided materialistic life. Keeping up with appearances came all too easily. My family thinks I am this disconnected child, least bit emotional and extremely spoilt. Friends think of me as this happy bubble; funny, spunky and content with weekend party scene. The rest think of me as this strong headed individual, straight forward and balanced. And me, well, I let people see me as whatever I felt the situation demanded at the time.

I was being calculative. So I dated men, played along with the matrimonial charade, portrayed myself as this hamdard of sexual minorities (while the real me was screaming to jump out of the closet and reveal itself). For me, you see, this was a successful self protection plan.

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