Friday, June 30, 2017

End of an Era

What a sad era when it is easy to smash an atom than prejudice.

The only thing permanent in our lives that nothing in life is permanent. Everything that been created will have to one day or another bite the dust. That’s the basic law of nature.

We always knew Chuck is a guest in our house. Everyone in family and I made sure that he is hale and hearty during his stay. But I never imagined the extent of life that little bundle of joy toy will teach me in this period. From seeing him cry when he was handed over to us, to watch him fall into silent depression remembering his real home and members, to seeing him getting sick and scared at different times, the ever licking fuzzball created an era for me in a very short period itself.

I was confused how he will react to seeing his family and home after home. Will he recognize them or feel the same separation which he felt a month before.

Turned out, the munchkin had a great memory. He recognized Driver bhaiya who came in the morning itself, to pick up Deepali, for house cleaning before the arrival of their employer’s family in night. Chuck actually went mad seeing him. I won’t lie that it did made me a bit sad in a very strange way, but my happiness to see that he will not fall into another depression streak was way way more to let that effect me.

However, the most unexpected thing happened when Bhai and mom spoke in clear cut agreement that we will not be dropping Chuck at Maasi’s place and that they must come to pick him up if they wish so. I don’t know but I felt much weird about this stand. Was it ego? Was it some strange kind of prejudice? Was it simply attachment with Chuck? Or am I just thinking way way too much?

I don’t know..
I don’t know..
I really can’t think anything and so I just don’t know.

If it’s both terrifying and amazing, then you should pursue it.

I did not question their decision even once. It was terrifying seeing their stand, maybe because I can’t think that complex and but it felt amazing when I let them be who they want to be and instead I was getting ready according to my own wish to be able to give a proper send off to Chuck. I did whatever I wanted to pursue it and it simply felt relaxing.

From making Chuck sleep peacefully along my bedside in afternoon to having being wake up by Chuck’s licking as Bhai and Bhabhi kept him beside the sleeping me, it was one emotional ride. I was happy for sharing these last few moments with him, before his send-off.

And so it happened within few hours hence, Pricy and Sia came to an overjoyed Chuck and his lick-fest, we kept talking on road for pretty good half an hour something, Bhai apparently showed his emotional side, even as I was pretty strong to hold myself – for I had prepared myself well for this moment. I knew that my tears will be overshadowed with control if Chuck is happy. And so he was.


At this point, it’s a new Era.

Thursday, June 29, 2017

Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara

If it is important for you, you will find a way. If not, you’ll find an excuse.

A day filled with travelling unlike any other I have done. I wanted to run away or make excuse at times, but since better luck of a sense prevailed and I realised that I can find ways over excuses.

Chuck is supposed to leave for own him tomorrow, and so keeping in view of that, and my own little need to take him out myself, I had asked Tia out for a Lunch Date at Puppychino Café at Shahpur Jat. Ever since Miki Maami had spoken about this place, my heart was set on it. I don’t know if it was because of show off, or probably once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to do something like that, or just my fatherly feeling for the munchkin, I just wanted it.

It wasn’t healthy though, taking Chuck out of home listening to Mom’s grunts over my ‘attitude’, but we were finally off in a cab. He sat well-mannered and I was so proud of him. However, more than an hour in cab, the nervous started to kick in. Because I started feeling that he has not been to a ride this long, and also I was not the one to irritate play with him, to keep him from not getting bored. I guess, we all, Me, Bhai, Bhabhi, have our own place for Chuck’s time. I guess I strongly realised this time that a child needs two parents and a family for his varied needs and even the parents don’t have to be same in outlook but complement each other in all their positives and individual shortcomings.

Your Priorities are your character.

I was happy to see Tia after a long time. It’s always nice being around him, both in person and on-phone. He took to Chuck with a laugh I can still hear in my mind. It was adorable. At times I felt I was using him for company as I wanted to take Chuck out to this Café (was it Chuck take me out to this café) as my entire concentration was on Chuck – as to whether or not he was getting bored, or when was his food being served, or is it okay to give him ice-cream, or whether he is felling hungry or lonely, or just about his safety. But Tia never once showed any sign of it and I am blessed that the only guy I could ever really date DATE in my life is him.

We have been out on 4 old-school dates now. I don’t know how it will pan out in my life, but I will always like to have him close to my heart in whatever closeness life envisages for us. Being with him has given me a character that makes me happy about myself, unlike anyone I have ever been out in the normal yet gay world. He is someone who sees me and treats me as a person to date and not a gay meet. Not all we talk is my immediate personality, but I still enjoy every moment of it.

Talking about personality, I also had Nupur in town. How nice a person may be to think about you as a person to spend time with, while she is on a stop-over in Delhi from Nepal. He stories and life makes me jealous, I won’t lie, because one of my strongest personality trait makes me wish to travel for living like her. But what is more important than that jealously is my wish to at least listen to her stories first hand.

So despite an unforeseen expensive during the date, esp with all the cab travel, and then tired at home for Chuck’s safety was priority, I excused myself from home with a “I am talking to a friend over phone as I take a walk”. Meeting her in Connaught Place, I was introduced to Mohit, a friend of hers and also a fellow traveler but one with a travel start-up. About three hours, including travel time to-and-fro home, with the two was amazing experience. Like I mentioned before, meeting and getting to know people living life happily on their terms, in person.

The key is not to prioritise what’s on your schedule, but to schedule your priorities.

At home, it was Continental dinner with Indian also prepared. I ate the former and said I will take the rest later as I was not much hungry them. Basically, it was the Subway Sandwich with Nupur and Mohit that had my tummy pretty full. Add to that, the chow mein I had in continental dinner.

Whilst at dinner, we had Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara playing on Cable and we stopped flipping channels to watch it. We manje in Bhabhi and me. We even joked about the idea of throwing away Bhai’s phone, the way Farhan did with Hrithik. What a sight it will, if it ever happened. *sigh* *bit-scared-also* LOL.

It was exactly this time, when Ralli called up. He had called in the evening also while I was on my way to Connaught Place, as he wanted meet. Max passed away yesterday morning. No more pain for him.

Ralli wanted to meet, for a quick get-away to Hudson Lane. I just could not say no to him. Good for me that I had told at home that I went to Shahpur Jat with Himanshu and with Ralli, I was just going to sit in his car and chat. But even with my open beard and beach shorts, we did go to BYD and had a hearty friend talk. He felt good and relax and I could not have asked for more. Max place can never be filled, I know. But Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara.

Time has a wonderful way of showing us what really matters.

Home before midnight, I started to feel uncomfortable thinking I did not get to give Chuck his last night medications and even wish him good night. However, the universe wanted me to have that too, maybe for my well scheduling of my priorities, at least for the day.

A fight broke out in front lane as a puppy stranded to our lane from behind. It was scary seeing the intense physical fight, as I had not seen anything like that ever. But the fight brought Bhai also downstairs and this gave me the opportunity to know Chuck did not take his medications, gifting me one last time to be with my baby.


I couldn’t be more happy.

Wednesday, June 28, 2017

Gene Pool

Your genetics load the gun. Your lifestyle pulls the trigger.

It was March 1, 2015 when I first felt like writing about my Gene trail. Lying in bed alongside my mother, I cried so bad I almost howled. I may have shed tears, screamed my heart in later days but I don’t think anything compares that moment.

One month had passed since Naniji’s death but it took a toll on my unlike anything ever in my life. I remember asking mom some randomly phrased questions about being a good child and also related to my coming out (something which was yet to happen then). Of all the broken sobbing replies from mom, one particular hit me hard. She had said that my Nani was a clean hearted, always helping soul, just that she had a hard zabaan (tongue).

It hit me hard because that was exactly the same I have felt about myself in those initial years of me trying to understand the complex me. It hit me hard because I felt my mom was always floating in the same waters, extremely helpful but stingy, complaining tongue. It hit me hard because I had always taken pride in this personality, thinking at least I don’t hide my real feelings, no matter the situation. It hit me hard because in that very moment I knew I need to change myself and change pronto.

I am the mastery of my genes, not a victim of them.

I see around myself today and it scares me how my brother has taken into the worst part of my father’s character. This is not to say he did not take any good ones or create a better one. It’s just that how ignorant we can be at times to not see that we are not evolving in better person, as it should be, and instead becoming a victim of our own genes.

It scares the hell out of me seeing my parents talking only about street dogs among themselves, as if bringing any other topic may lead to uncomfortable environment. It’s like sweeping the pertinent topics of discussion under the rug, till it become a mountain of problem. It happens every time.

The worst part is, like brought out above, is how ignorant can one be, or how blank out can one make ourselves from the tough talks. I refuse to believe that they are dumb enough to understand the faults in their personality. Or is it an ego that is so stubborn to not make them even the slightest of effort to maintain even one peaceful conversation, without anyone raising their voice or using words.

Recently, Miki Mami mentioned about me having taken to Mamu’s trait of analyzing what is worth listening to and what is not, and not letting the unwanted even enter my ear for the age old ek kaan se suno, doosrey kaan se nikal do action. If I have understood something is not worth listening, I act smart and respectful, even as the talk somehow follows an invisible OHM sign, Ω, shaped path over my head. I love this ability in myself but I can’t be all stringent about it. If needed, I must and will make changes to it.

Miki Maami shared a lot of good qualities of a husband in Mamu. He may not be perfect, but he is always by her side, in sickness and in health. I could not stop wishing even more blessings for them in that very moment. And I am sure their marriage will always be etched in my mind for all the beautiful things I want to emulate in my own.

Back in my family, I see Dad acting pretty irritating with his calling out for Deepali by her name. He lowers his pitch and keeps on doing it in a fast loop. I think he feels it’s funny, but it is NOT. Sadly, I have become so accustomed to his rigid nature, one he would not change even if anyone tell him about the same, that today I found out a way to even laugh in this.

Dad is a striking copy of his mother, my Maanji, who with her weird aristocratic calling of her maid with a pseudo name of Rampiyari, is a slitting (voice) image of each other. I once questioned her about this name and she told me that she grew up in a big affluent family with multiple servants, 24x7, at her disposal, one of whom was Rampiyari.

Well, I did not grow up likewise. I still have trouble even letting Deepali to pick my plates. Not to be high nosed, but I am happy to live in reality.

I may not have perfect genes, but I do have great ones because they have made me lucky enough to know where I would like to master them with my lifestyle changes. I just hope others see this too and make a better person out of them. Because in the end, we all are learning from each other.

A long healthy life is no accident. It begins with good genes, but it also depends on good habits.

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

Inception Life

Your Mind is the Scene of the Crime
  •  Ever wondered what it feels like remembering each and every dream, as they all come to your subconscious mind just before you wake up?
  • Ever wondered what it feels like waking up from a dream, a diary by your bed side and the first thing you do is to pen down the life you lived just before coming into the real world?
  • Ever wondered what it feels like being watched over and hounded in your own dreams, sometimes by people you know, other times by strangers, at times by a giant bull and rare times by even loneliness?
  • Ever wondered what it feels like being in your own Punjabi wedding, without questioning your orientation, because you don’t have time as it is with a girl who was you cute classmate from school and the friends who push you inside room your fairly good school friends?
  • Ever wondered what it feels like waking up from your own dreamy wedding, surrounded with guests you don’t even notice because your eyes are fixed on your foreigner husband-to-be’s eyes and smile and face as he walks down the aisle making you feel blessed like you have never been before?
  • Ever wondered what it feels like to be in a dream that is full of absolutely unrealistic combination of your past, present and fictional life, but you don’t question anything and just live that dream like it’s a reality, despite questions continuously popping in your mind about what you doing, saying or being?


My dream from last night sleep may not fit into each and everything but it’s been everything mentioned above. Remembering almost each and every dream, forgetting them if I don’t note them or share them, being chased by legendary creatures in a mix of real and wizard world, getting married to a girl and many years later to a guy and then going back to school like everything requires unlearning and detachment. Detachment especially because I had been taking pride in remembering my dreams without ever deciphering almost all of them, unless they appear in real life or decipher by themselves.

Going back to my today’s dream, this write up will be just a recollection of the entire scene I lived in my dream.


Picture this:


I am on a rickshaw on way to my school. I clearly remember not being alone on rickshaw but just don’t remember noticing who that person was. The rickshaw took the route from Antariksh Apartments, the starting point of my dream. Upon reaching the School’s Main Gate, I get down of it and so does my unknown co-passenger. (Side Note: Most of my 11th and the entire 12th class, I travelled in rickshaw from metro, the latter being my transportation mode to-and-fro school. Antariksh Apartments was where Ramit stayed, the only friend of mine whose house I have overstayed in school.)

Since we were late for school, and it was about to be 8:00 am, he runs off inside the gate as I stay with the rickshaw puller to pay for his service. Strangely the payment mode was having the rickshaw puller sign my passport, which he did with his thumb impression, followed by my own signature under thumb impression. Interestingly, the previous page had a stamp of Bangladesh visa. (Side Note: In 11th, I was once very late to school and not allowed entry inside. It was this side gate I used to plead for entry to my teacher but was refused. I am flustered over the Bangladesh connection, maybe a country I never ever thought that I can or want to visit)

I rush in from the side gate, which was partially closed. Junior class students are standing in queue for the morning PT class, but there was apparently no assembly as I did not feel anything like same. I pace inside the Block A Entry gate; the good old original entry gate to the Block, when the first new building came up during my third standard. (Side Note: I don’t know why I took this route, when in school I always used to take the stage route. Maybe because 3rd class was when my lone life started)

I start climbing the stairs and reach the first floor. As I start climbing to go for the second floor, I see Namrata Mam outside the corner class, next to the Boys Washroom. Nevertheless, Mam was shouting at someone, almost calling out to someone in anger. Here for a moment I thought as to stop and assist her, but I did not and continued going up the stairs. (Side Note: I don’t know why the question never aroused in my mind as to why she was there, because that used to be 4th A in reality.)

But halfway through to second floor, I stop. I stop because I start thinking which class I want to go, only to realize that I am I Class 11, Section A. In that very moment, I actually recall visuals of the class segregation where I was sorted in Section A. (Side Note: Two Days ago, I was sorted in Group A in Tanzeel Sir’s Class at Artist League. Real Life within Dream Life, Interesting!)

Clear with the realization, I climb down the stairs to the first floor. Namrata Mam is no more in the picture. I start pacing along the other side of the corridor, with the belief that 11th A is in Block C and I was at A Block. However, the belief was also that 11th A was on 1st Floor of C Block. (Side Note: Now in reality, 11th A was on C Block Ground Floor, I was actually in 11th C and the class I was rushing to, this moment in dream was actually 9th A, of which I was indeed a student in real life.)

As I reach the last class, 3rd D in real life (I was in 3rd C in real life), I stop from climbing the two-three side stairs for Block B. There was Kunal Gogia, sitting in the corner seat but the seat was strangely placed in between the door. At that moment I realised that the class had students of my age (faces and names not noticed; completely ignored) and students who actually seemed like 3rd class students. It was like one row (weirdly placed row, to be specific) for each kind. This was my 11th A. (Side Note: 3rd Class was the one which actually tortured my existence in life for the first time as I actually started my lost journey with this new class, while 11th A was the class I most visited for friends, with hidden desire that I could have been here had I studied)

I enter the class by crossing Kunal, and notice that there were rows of tables and chairs charted inside, with the small kids completely silent, almost mannequin-like, facing the wall. And my 11th class mates were sitting like we used to during the Diwali party, with tables placed along the back side wall and everyone sitting in the outside row and not inside, for a free movement. (Side Note: I only remember Diwali party of 8th class, and we did place tables and chairs like this side-to-side manner. I masturbated for the first time in 8th class and had the worst and most confused and egoistic leadership experience in this Grade only)

I take a seat next to Ankita Dhingra because she gave me the biggest smile on my entry; a smile so big that I did not notice if there was any other reaction – like she was bright like the Sun in the sky full of stars. But before seating, I kept my bag, a sling one, on the top shelf in the starting, next to the windows. (Side Note: Ankita was the only face I survived every time when I used to enter my 9th A, everyone else used to feel like they wanted to eat the flesh out of me. I love sling bags but was never able to carry one, till I revolted in college life. But lost my very first sling bag, the one I have most loved, in Amritsar, along with my favorite novels and about ₹ 5000 cash.)

As I get seated, the teacher is asking everyone what they want to be in future. I don’t know if it was Kunal, I don’t know why I need to mention Kunal here, but teacher replied to someone’s answer with, “Of course Engineer, because you family is of an Engineer”. (Side Note: Kunal is not an engineer, nor anyone in his family, but he once told me in 11th, I believe, that he will move in Business because he is from a Business family. And moved into business in12th only, missing school every Saturday).

Strangely, next to answer the teacher (still unknown in face or voice), was someone named Babbar. And Ankita was loudly cheering for him. I think I did not seem to care much for the person or why he was being cheered but I can only recall him as someone bearded and with a very nice smile. But it was a fleeting notice, like I occupied with myself. (Side Note: I remember Ankita always being the cheerful and ever-encouraging positive soul for everyone. I know only one Babbar, from my initial coming out days, in Jaipur. He has a strong smile and a bearded personality and was the most clear one on his career, unlike Ralli or Harita. His clarity was exactly that – clarity, and cannot be termed practical or heartless)

I, however, was trying to ‘psst’ someone to hand me my bag as I wanted my passport for my reply. It was like my passport was imperative for my answer. The teacher table was on the side, with the switch board, and very strangely arranged.

And I wake up!


Picture Review:


It feels like Inception for a change in the present, through the writing mode of Deception. My dream can only be the projection of my own subconscious mind, and that is someone no one can control. But who is the dreamer here - the architect. Or can I be both the person trapped in my subconscious mind and a dreamer who is trying to be the architect of his life.

As an architect, I have to be careful while changing the physics of my life. I have to create something new. I can use detail, like an a struggle someone endured or the silence someone else maintained, but I cannot and must not create a future from memories. Otherwise I will easily lose grasp of what is real and what is dream. And my presence will take a foreign nature and I will be attacked.

I know I have lost that grasp my times, but not anymore. I know I have been attacked many times, but not anymore. Just like Cob, I will fight back.

Monday, June 26, 2017

Last Days

Strike when thou wilt,
The hour of rest, but let
My last days be my Best.

Max has been hospitalized and I am weary about talking about anything with Akshay. Especially because these are Chuck’s last few days with us, and I want to immerse myself in every moment of it – preparing myself well that he is meant to leave me.

Add to that the other Akshay in my life is going through a heavy emotional time, because of his job that he hates. I don’t want to judge the guy, because all his emotions are because of his vulnerability in life. I know this because I have been there, done that – with many people - right from Mansi and Ramit from school days to innumerable guys – in various different levels and vocabulary and actions.

Sahil is also in his last days before he starts his job life, and I feel distant from him. His plans are vapid and I have stopped being possessive about our friendship. I don’t know if it’s bad or is it just my fear of not able to explain them about my life plans. I guess I just want them to have faith in me because I have the same and there will be no last for it.

I wanted to strike out all cobwebs but I did not see that it could be dense beyond my imagination. It feels like middle earth type dense past I left behind but I forgot that life is a cycle and one day I will have to pass through the same route again. 

I am exhausted and tired and in pain and the count of my time at home haunt me most as I live with myself the most. But I just cannot give up. I have taken a lot many times and this last time, I am taking up the fear of the unknown for the one and only right thing – a better and best life.

Live every day as if it were your last, because one of these days you will be right.

Sunday, June 25, 2017

Fill in the Blanks

Life is just a blank slate; what matters most is what you write on it.

Reveling in a morning health regime after eons and a dance class after months, I realised my sweat in the most magnificent yet concerning manner. I don’t remember being this wet drenched ever, possibly not even close too. All this, when I did not do anything new in my life. This all, when even the been-there-done-that actions were pale in quantity and quality to the past diaries. For suddenly I was flustered with blank space in my thoughts.

My runs were poor but effectively tiring, my time at the open gym had me feeling every weak muscle in my confused body, and those cascading waterfall like sweat gave me rushing concerns of losing body weight which I have gained over the past few months. I realise I may be doing my health better but the lack of coordination and time discipline is majorly holding me back. For a one hour park time had me fall onto the bed and doze off. I was flustered but I had a good opening.

I am liking myself being on time whenever I leave home. The latter is not a daily routine but I will make a most good habit out of it, starting with my dance classes. But I am still not timing my free feeling belief when I dance. It’s like something is bothering me – a judgment that I am unable to understand even the scare source for. Recalling Gauran Lal ma’am from BVB days, it’s just a lack of preparation and practice. Hopefully I will make my own space with time and hopefully sooner than later.

Keep it simple. Make a blank face and the music and the story will fill it in.

Who would have thought that sometimes, maybe sometimes (I don’t know), forcing yourself to listen to a no-idea-about-background-topic-for-you-to-add-something-new-to-it conversation, between two of your fairly good friends can really be only right thing to do? Especially when you to listen to the words with a completely blank face!

To break it down, the ride back from Artist League class at Safdurgung to Rajouri was filled with friendly conversations between Pratham and Ekta. I really did not know much of the background to the topics of a supposed misunderstanding with Tanzeel Sir and also Pratham’s work at Lashkara. The usual me, would have blanked my mind out of it, by keeping a poker face that showed interest. But I really forced myself to at least listen, because they are people who are nice friends and not just some random one-meet-strangers. Plus I love their free spirit and happy nature.

It so turns out, that after dropping Ekta at her home, Pratham and I continued the same topic. Now had I arrogantly and narcissistically let myself out of the forceful listening exercise, I really would have nothing to share with this amazingly nice person, Pratham. I did not add anything, as I was still unaware of the things, but just added words of advice to appreciate him that he is not wrong, just the circumstances have become questionable. And how Ekta was right about him talking to Sir to clear everything out. That’s it, but not without the best catch.

Even in the pretty common repeats for advice, I got to build a good chat time with Pratham. So much so, that I did not get off the car at my stop and had to close the door to continue our friendly talks. More than the drive, it was this 2-3 minutes when I opened the car door to get down but had to get my leg inside the car again and close the door because our conversation did not feel like ending abruptly, I felt blessed for the time.

I shared this story with Akshay also, later in the night, to let him know how we really must work into even an unknown, no-idea, conversation, just because the party to it means to us. This was in advice to Akshay’s time with his friends in Murthal, something I was not party to and somehow I peacefully did not feel angry about it too. When it’s my time, it will happen.

No force on earth can stop an idea whose time has come.

I have never felt as bored and yet blanked about even moving my foot for my next action as I felt when I got off Pratham’s car. Till this moment I don’t know why, and as I pen it down, my thoughts run wild telling me everything is subconscious now and un-real hypothesis eventually. I did not want to go home, nor did I felt like good alone. It was like I wanted to rest my soul in a friend’s company – but that friend was unknown too.

I randomly dialed Vikas and like destiny, he was on his way to Chandni Chowk for me to accompany in metro. I enquired Nikita and Deepti about their health, as I got to know from the dance class, because I felt like. And the conversations went really well. With Vikas, I was playful and yet mature. He is great to learn from, because he is getting himself fixed from the broken pieces of his life. I realize that I want him to be that genuine crazy playful friend with whom I can go serious tone also and he lets me be same too – though he hold himself back extremely tightly. But then again, a diamond is just a chunk of coal that did well under pressure.

I understand these blank moments don’t scare me anymore, like they used to when I first started getting them. They occurrence shall even continue till I am strong enough from moving from controlling my emotions to feeling the right set of emotions. I am not strong right now, but I am definitely not weak anymore. All I know is that I must stay in the real world, no matter the hardships, pains and blank spaces.


Surround yourself with people that reflect who you want to be and how you want to feel. Energies are contagious.

Saturday, June 24, 2017

Legacy

Please think about your legacy because you are writing it every day.

Life happens every moment, and sometimes, we got to let it happen and just go with the flow, even if that means too much happen in a single day. I realize today that this ‘happening’ need not necessarily be a an action on a long stretch that is mobile, as in it can be seen and touched. Sometimes, at times many times in a short or very short or even flash of a period itself, a lot can leave an impression within an instance, giving it a life of its own. My past is my legacy, and legacy can be made not just over the years but even a single thoughtful moment.

I saw both near birth and death experiences today and the legacy that they are creating and also leaving behind. From Max’s tumour’s ultrasound to Akshay and Amit’s reaction to his regular doctor on their fear of Max living his last death in depression if he send away in the Dog ICU for observation, everything was heady, considering this was the first time when I not just actually saw Max’s face but petted him with my own hands probably more than his Ralli family. He had surrendered but wanted to live. His eyes were so heavy, yet full of maturity, like he has lived a whole life. He will be turning 11 in October this year, if he survives, God willingly.

Seeing Max near his death and the never ending teary eyes of Ralli, as if he is seeing all his school days with Max, I could feel it in a strange gifted way. And it felt really peaceful in a thankful way. Because he doesn’t know what he has as a legacy to look upon in his thoughts, there are many who can’t even imagine that beautiful feeling, least alone live it.

I don’t know what death is like but I do wish it to be peaceful and even thankful. Karma, I can only hope, for my actions and thoughts. Just like I believe every birth is a with Karma, and the legacy we make every moment, no matter the audience and the sharers.

As Max and Ralli went through fears about death, there was birth taking place in another room. A pug was born and when I saw him, he was being licked by his mother who had previously delivered one alone, one dead and one half developed dead pup and was still carrying two probables in her womb. It was a miraculous event, having to witness the new born pup start barking in less than an hour of birth. How fast their lives are and how quick we can see their legacy. With us humans, it’s just a different and long time, blessing or boon, anything as we see and live it.

I’m creating my legacy.

Over the past few months, I have been living a complete circle of life. Places and events, and incidents and meetings, and discussions and silences, happening all over again, like they want these chapter to be done away from, by giving me another chance to live them in a better way, with better actions and decisions. But today, a lot of these circles were just refusing to match.

Priya’s dadaji’s Kriya location changed, Tanmay not in the city for my wish for Rahgiri, finally getting to eat chhole bhaturey with a fanta and loving my ME time as for the first time I ordered for a refill of the chhole. The orange flavored gum had only the beginning hint of orange, but was all cardamom later – like what life really was. I have to appreciate both flavors of life if I want to taste it for a legacy. I even saw a bigger inflatable pool as I really wanted, and it was near the Punjabi Bagh cremation ground; talk of the coincidence.

You get to decide the legacy that your leave. 

The dreams I see are at times weird but I continue to believe that each of them hold a hidden subconscious meaning about my life and unknown or buried truth and desires.

The evening nap got me to live a dream where a dog (big one like Cheeku) attacking Chuck. I was trying to hold the big one to save the small one, but I was slipping every now and then. And the small one, Chuck, was being hurt in the onslaught. I woke up very abruptly from this dream and after careful thought realised maybe I am trying to hold tight the big dreams, which are out of my control at the moment, instead of just owning the small ones to safety and creating my legacy from these small but under-control dreams. These small dreams when fed and water properly will grow big themselves. For legacy is not about leaving something big but creating something impactful and deep impact can be created by even the smallest of deeds.

I am not afraid of meeting those I have let down in past. I will meet them anyway, no matter the accusation I may receive. At least I will not pile up more guilt and exertion from running. Case in point - Me and Sam.

I am not afraid of walking the same old path again, because my thoughts are different now. And with better thoughts, I see people awake and not asleep. Case in point – Me and the Kashmere Gate route to Noida from home.

I am not afraid of dependence on me not being consulted for route I have lived to and fro more than the total times my family lived through same. I will smile for the legacy I have form the route and I am no more ashamed of any past. Case in point – Read previous point.

I am not afraid of meeting an old hook-up again, because I know I will be respectful over the invite and be strong (positively hopeful) of keeping my point across the table, with an optimism that I will not disrespect and dishearten anyone. Case in point – Me and Arvind.

I am not afraid of saying a sorry for something I was not completely to be blamed for. I will say sorry not to be the bigger person, but for myself to be a stronger person. It’s the future that matters and I will not let a past be ruined from being a good legacy. I have to rise on this much stronger. Case in point – Me and the Family and the Saturday visit to Ichiban, India Gate and bangla Sahib Gurudwara.

I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples.

Leaving Chuck home alone for the first time, even if it was with Deepali, was like feeling traumatised for the baby. I am sure that I will do have a pet as a family one day, and that one day will be when I am happily married with two kids. For Chuck taught me family values of care – care for a family member who can’t express his feelings but still expects companionship and a genuine assurance that he is loved and not alone.

Life is a circle if we want don’t want to leave the safe zone, the zone of past. Because I have realised that when things get tough, I prefer running into past for blame and correction, no matter how bad the past was, instead of living facing the present and creating a better legacy.

My legacy will not be a circle I want to keep revolving around through my writings. Instead, I will work to live like an upward graph, no matter the cross connections of people passing through. Legacy is living bullish with the normality bear.

Live, Love, Laugh and Leave a Legacy.

Friday, June 23, 2017

Gift of Boredom

At 28 years of age, earlier this year, when I decided to quit my only job, instead of being smart and make a  shift to a different news channel, I realised one thing. It was not unemployed status, but for the first time in my life, I was practically not working, essentially not doing anything and mostly sitting idle. Today, I realised that all that added to the most subconscious yet precious gift I have given myself – Boredom.

As is customary to my daily writings, I read a lot of quotes on this topic to give a structure to my thoughts. However, shocking as it just might not be, the internet is filled with negative quotes on boredom. It’s like being idle and being bored is the worst situation one can ever be in. Google it.

But then again, I remember this strong column in a not so old HT Sunday Brunch, by well known journalist and writer Seema Goswami, that I had come across, felt real strong with the Title, but still, never read it. Glad I never read it before, until today, when I was, by-every-means Bored (and a bit scared) to death sitting at home. This was “Why being bored is actually important for your child”.

Unlike the writer who has crossed the boredom time in her childhood and writing about the benefits of boredom today as a well settled, married with children, journalist, I write about my own experience at an age when few months ago I had literally exhausted myself of all the energy live life. I felt it was my end and even with regular food and strong work output, I felt like collapsing – a la Julien in The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari. I have the novel next to me on my table as I pen this piece and will do revisit it the next thing in my idle time, but for now, the child in me, who can’t remember experience boredom, even as he clearly remember the alone time he spent a lot in his childhood, is finally getting idle by clearing everything pending.

The pending things in my life today consist of sorting out my laptop data, mostly pictures, from past two years especially, starting from my April sojourn to Jaipur. It was that time I realised I have not lived my life as who I was that in a quest to find myself I did a lot of things, but without break, only to be exhausted from living my childhood in my adulthood. The sorting of data will be followed by clearning and stacking my entire life qualifications and certificates, especially my Masters degree from Hisar, so that I can finally take stand on my decision to move out of this country. Life is one thing at a time, even though I am really scared of my tortoise pace.

Amidst all this chaos handling, I need to get over my vulnerabilities of having teenage periods in my manhood and also sleeping on time for a early morning fresh body. The former is being worked upon, the latter is still haunting me a lot with every day failure. I just want to cry out loud.

Moving on.. I have an endless collection of movies to watch and books to read, but that will be with life. I need my good vocabulary in much less priority when compared to my need for finding what I really can think out of this boredom.

They say An Idle Mind is a Devil’s Workshop, and I couldn’t agree more with it. I have realised I kept working, something or the other, just to never let the Devil enjoy his workshop in me. Because whenever he did get in my mind, it’s been a travesty of living death proportions. But today, I just don’t want to be afraid of the existence of Devil. Instead, I want to make my mind so powerful that this Devil, of every kind and sin, can just never ever break into it.

This is why I am not shying away from all my old flames, and gay society and its parties, and especially my family. I want to face them, no matter how much weak. Just by closing my eyes, or shutting them from my world, or going out of India as soon as possible, may give me temporary relief, but their existence will continue. My previous runs have never been any good, and the past haunts more whenever I ran.

I don’t know what I will really grow old into, but one thing I am learning from this self presented Gift of Boredom is that I will not just be not-weak, but I will be strong in every way – mentally, physically, psychologically and subconsciously. This is because this Boredom is making me feel all the pain, only to be left with nothing but happiness filled immunity.

Ending this piece, I would finally like to share the one and only quote from Google, which makes me most optimistic about my idlehood and boredom.

Boredom always precedes a period of great creativity.

Thursday, June 22, 2017

Past Continuous

Never make a decision when you are angry, never make a promise when you are happy.

If I have to dig deepest into my recent past, to know that exact moment when I decided to call it quits at work and go on a leave, I will find nothing. Because life was, is and will never be just about one moment – no matter the intensity. Sometimes the biggest tragedy strikes but we get so involved in the moments that follow, that we never get the time to ponder about it. And then there are times when a small thing induce biggest depression in me, all because I could indulge the incident by giving it an idle mind to brood over.

I called quits as multiple moments and incidents led me to do so – moments that were personal, professional and even private – moments that were both selfless and selfish – moments that were either full of ego and over/ or overconfidence – moments that brought out my naïve side or wisdom beyond my years. But the main thing remains that it has happened and will always be part of me.

I made a decision of not continuing with the job again, or take up similar job with more money because I was finally happy with my decision – scared but happy. 
I made a promise to myself to simplify my life of all the complexities I created out of anger, confusion and/ or self-victimisation – exhausted but not giving up.

I may not know a Story about True Love but I do know a True Story about Love.

Ralli kind of stumped me during our phone conversation when he asked me if I was still on talking terms with Tanmay. This was when I told him Tanmay messaged me a link of a movie, The 10 year Plan, to watch.

In the conversation which ensued theron, I realized I am finally comfortable in staying on talking terms with everyone I had ever had or was about to have anything intimate, especially love. From almost daily messaging and talks with Akshay, to random talks with Tanmay to once in awhile getting some message from Aniket, like today (what were the chances, huh?), I am getting better at being myself. I believe this because every day nowadays I am getting to know myself.

If a man does not embrace his past, he has no future.

From not-regretting my past by accepting it, I am slowly but steadily moving to embracing everything about me. I can actually feel everything is getting better – personally, professionally and privately. (smiles). #DontStopBelieveing

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Cleanin' Out My Closet

I got some skeletons in my closet
And I don't know if no one knows it
So before they thrown me inside my coffin and close it
I'mma expose it.

Sometimes, every day, I ask myself the reason for pitching in my life on a public platform, with unquoted quotes, stretched between sometimes short and sometimes long psycho-analysis, gift wrapped in a strongly thought blog title.

Sometimes, every day, I answer myself that I am have made such a royal and exorbitant mess of my own abilities that I am never ever lived with a push and zest, like I lived just to survive each day for a new day that will be a new start that never was meant to be, because this is one life after all, with only newer chapter being added in one single life book.

Cleaning up the closets with stored utilities and gifts, the day went pretty neat, with simple yet profound laughs, as a family should experience. I was the felicitator, and Bhabhi and Mom were the modes which mostly exchanged views and love filled banters. But I did have my own time too, and I seized this happy family time with my own witty and carefully and respectfully worded remarks. It was like destiny giving me my needs. And I really believe that my destiny is giving me clearing me of all my questions by having me see the answers amidst my own self.

You never know what you have until you clean your room.

From family talks to friends and their lives, I have almost become a calm designated person to have my friends share their relationship and love issues with me. It’s interesting as it makes me see what I have come from, the good, the bad and the ugly. Nothing is abnormal as everything in every relationship is normal. We find it weird and unsettling because we really don’t know the life someone else has been living to make a certain decision(s) or take a specific action(s) or speak a particular word(s).

Everything is okay at the end of the day. Okay, because it has happened after all. Time is always to see what to do now as next. Tomorrow I may face certain situation that I may not have ever thought or heard, but that does not make me abnormal or the wrong person. It’s all life at the end of the day (or night). Like I selfishly listen to my friends, not just for friendship but also to personally grow.

My whole life I was made to believe I was sick when I wasn't
'Til I grew up, now I blew up, it makes you sick to ya stomach

It was I who made me feel low. It was I who had me wrong myself. It was I who questioned why from my life events. I was weak and unsure and sadly, feeling like a victim is the most violent addiction that can ever be. I was sick and until I accepted it, I did not start trying to cure myself. I am getting better and I know it, because I feel it; ever thine, ever mine, ever ours.

Well guess what, I am dead - dead to you as can be!

Out of the closet, I never felt a changed person. But I lived in that closet for long to have it an indelible part of my life – My Past. I died, psychologically, inside that closet many times in my past and I am now making peace with that death, by cleanin' out my closet.

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

Pretentious Withdrawal Symptoms

If you allow people to make more withdrawals than deposits in your life, you will be out of balance and in the negative before you know.

I don’t know if it is about the treats I am feeding or the silent but unflinching love I am sharing with Chuck, which is making him stick to me like a magnet. Whatever it is, I feel a love and care unlike I have ever shown to anyone. I feel responsibility and concern that I would selfishly love to reserve for myself. And I feel scared about his life in a way that even a short time pinch that I am not able to spare for him, as if he needs me 24x7.

My being with him, in entirety, probably only explains why my world almost collapsed when he threw up today, first on me and then on the floor. For a flash of second I did feel disgust at the situation, as is probably normal, but the fear for his health was what immediately sunk in and I felt like a helpless father to my sick baby. I cleaned the puke as if it was normal, and spend the day with him, just so he can rest. I resisted from treating him or even moving out of his sight, just so he would sleep peacefully. And all this while, I could not help but feel the tears I might have to control while giving him away to his rightful family.

We don’t have many pictures together, and only I can change that. He is not a human, so he can’t really express our time together to anyone. He will definitely move out, and I think him being in my life could be a step for self parenting. I cannot be much glad at the destiny for testing me with this time.

Time has a wonderful way of showing what matters.

Rejected once for seemingly poor paper work, Bhai and Bhabhi’s Canadian visa got rejected for the second time today for the now seemingly absurd ‘inadequate funds in bank account’ reason has left an atmosphere of silence at home and I hate it. I hate it because when this silence erupts, it's scary. It’s tough to sense talk Mandeep into seeing the simple pleasures of life without much boasting, but I hope he understands the value of time and move on to people who matter and not get himself more entangled into futile pondering and brooding. What has happened has happened. Time and money wasted should not be chased or cared for, instead what matters is to utilize the now time to create money that will be more valued in use.

Talking about the evident, I must give my final word to the Networking Entrepreneurship work suggestion by Pravin Sir as more than keeping him hanging, I am making myself more uncomfortable by not withdrawing from every moment living with pretence, well knowing that I am stretching a temporary feeling into a wasteful permanent one.

A bizarre sensation pervades a relationship of pretense. No truth seems true. A simple morning's greeting and response appear loaded with innuendo and fraught with implications. Each nicety becomes more sterile and each withdrawal more permanent.

Monday, June 19, 2017

Watering Down My Woes

Nothing is softer or more flexible than water, yet nothing can resist it.

Monday morning blues have actually started showing signs, for I see it as a start to a new week with nothing accomplished that can be shows in material, yet my heart really believe that the my scared idle being and bored self is accomplishing so much mentally that I never imagined as imaginable.

There is a sense of concern that is inexplicable, as to where am I taking my life and how much lethargy is coming in my dreams and zest for a successful life. My woes about my laziness and how I am just sitting at home, without even physical routine is undoubtedly tension giving. Not to forget the constant dejection from habitual failures at the wank pact. All snowballing into watering my mental imbalance, despite gaining spiritual knowledge unlike ever thought about.

The pre-monsoon showers are a mixed feeling of respite yet thirst to make something out of it. The night storm flooded the living room in a sense unseen before, but it did water the woes of the dirt in the room, by clearing the weather and the air, both inside and out. This unflinching quality of water being soft and hard at the same time is what I really look for in myself, hitting my soul harder than a whip and yet cleaning everything that is wrong with me.

I am not a failure, just untangling my webbed life. It's become really complex with regrets and bad habits that I have to work like searching the needle in a haystack. I just need to keep flowing, even if it is being idle and bored and scary as hell.

Running water never grows stale, so you just have to keep on flowing.

Sunday, June 18, 2017

Slippery Advantage

People don’t slip; Time catches up with them.

Another week, another proposal for intimacy; this time hardcore sex. Manjeet buzzed on Instagram out of the blue and the chat which ensued over WhatsApp and Call had him asking me to come over to water his physical fire. Humbled, a lot, because the guy is maniac hot in pics and gives rough hot vibes for fuck. But what do I go for?

I refuse him with a humble laugh, only to follow it with an idiotic WhatApp explanation about by so called emotional and relationship needs for sex, even as I tried dropping him stupid hints to come over my place for a quick trip on terrace, only to end up with another failed wank pact.

Seeing how the pact broke the last two times, I realize that I hate getting the intimacy offers, even though they make me feel wanted in a somewhat shallow way. However, may be the slips are to my advantage of getting to pass the test when it happens in real life with absolutely unknown guy, if it so happens. I owe my slips, but I will not stop taking advantage from them.

Make use of time; Let not advantage Slip. Better the foot slip, than the Tongue.

Saturday, June 17, 2017

Timely Lifestyle

The trouble is, you think you have Time.

Exhausted, Sleep-deprived, Dance feet, Drunk body and Finally on bed at 4 am – I have never got up on time on a regular day and finally on bed at 4 am – I have never got up on time on a regular day and this was extreme. Yet, I woke up on one call from Pravin Sir, got ready in time for the 11 am meeting I had mistaken for Sunday and reached the meeting venue exactly on dot time. I don’t want to see much into it, except the only intake being me now very concerned about work opportunities.

In time, I made the time for my commitment, without the excuse of a past or an Uber. I dressed well presentable and I spoke fairly well. I was not hounded by time but I realize I can unknowingly make judgments about work. The only timely thing I felt doing well was of forcing myself open my mind to knowledge of the reality I was living. I couldn’t waste time wasting sitting there.

My judgmental self came from the recollection of similar networking ideas I had been first party in past. Shockingly, I cannot even remember the ‘friend’ with whom I went to a certain Shah Auditorium in Civil Lines for a group meeting. Strange are indeed the ways time passes and encompasses my network.

However, I do remember the idea and ‘burning desire’ behind this – from my HDFC SLIC ‘job’ to seeing Naveen happy and kicked in his work with Bhabhi. I have seen the latter gain confidence and smiles unlike I ever knew it in him; so I will definitely not dismiss this engineering. But I still don’t see myself work even part-time on it – not for the money, but just I don’t want this lifestyle.

Make it a Lifestyle, not a duty.

Amidst the meeting, the one thing that hit me hard enough to feel like it will stay forever with me was the time the meeting discussed about the reason for venturing into business. I could only think of lifestyle; and for me that includes name and fame – in varied proportions obviously. I belong to an average upper middle class in terms of family earnings, but my family grew up with the lifestyle of a class. This surely brought disparities which exist even today, sadly, but I have enjoyed it so much that I would like to maintain it with the right earnings.

Interestingly, I have been terming my quest for this habitual lifestyle as a duty but now I feel that this should seamlessly flow in my ideas and views about life. Today’s meeting made me realize the people I am socializing with, and the ones I would like to maintain in my social circle. Not being a megalomaniac or vane, but there is nothing wrong in maintaining a lifestyle in my time.

Believe in yourself a little more.

Friday, June 16, 2017

Clearly Straight

No straight lines make up my life; And all my roads have bends; There's no clear-cut beginnings; And so far no dead-ends.

There is a reason why being social helps. People may not understand the path you have been walking throughout your life but they can tell share their social knowledge about the clear path ahead. Something similar happened today at Miki Maami’s house.

I am glad I did go for the social meet, despite my reservations to go, what with my seemingly unending bad health and the upcoming party at Priveé in night. I was shabbily dressed, according to my own shabby records, and I was mostly silent, but when I realized at around 5 in the evening that the concern for shabbiness and my silence did not stop the time, but in fact made it a good social time pass, it was a feeling unlike any experienced before.

Having discussions about Mamu’s positives as a husband to Miki Maami’s love for the family, I realized how much I missed looking up to them. It’s not the money or army background that make them happy, it’s the passion for family love that they all respect. In between the discussions about dogs and stuff, I got the best answer for my reason to move out of the country – CLARITY IN MYSELF.

I don’t want to run away and not do I want to leave the reality. Whatever I do, I want it for a better future – Simple or Lavish, that will be my hard work. Never really looked at it this way - So simple and straight.

Before you accuse anybody of anything, get you facts straight first.

I understand a club is a club at the end of the day (or shall I say, night) but without sounding too melodramatic, for someone who has been to many many gay parties, of varied classes, going to a regular party, a straight party as my ‘community’ tags it, was still a dream. I know what happens inside a gay party, how we meet, interact with rank strangers over drinks and on dance floor. However never did I experience a straight party. Until tonight.

It was me and Bittoo for the party, after much thought permutations and combinations over two passes I purchased. Happy to have a friend in this crazy night. Happy to be myself, in all my varied perceptions, on the dance floor. We danced right, we danced funny, we danced crazy and we had a good good time.

I understand one party is not enough to know what the world is and I would like to visit many more. Maybe with a different music than EDM, maybe with a different club and more gay friends, maybe with different class with more straight friends, but I really want to see the life around. Priveé or not, Captain Hook or not, Car or not – I want to live the lifestyle I grew up watching.

Keep Calm and Think Straight.
 Author's Note: Although published on June 16, 2017, this particular Post is about an experience that went on till June 17, 2017 evening. Even the day needed multitasking from another day. 

Thursday, June 15, 2017

Powerful Past Allergies

Picture this:

It’s a somewhat posh restaurant and I can only notice a table for four. Standing in a corner, my gaze stops my breadth as I see this short guy in a red checked shirt. He is wearing glasses which seem known. He seems to have grown in age, quite handsomely, from the last time I saw him as a boy. I continue to stand still in that area, which now appears to be a restroom corner, when he walks up to me with a smile that is trademarked to make my heart feel loved. He stops by me, the smile changes into a small but funny laughter filled salutation, “Kya hua Chadz?”.

It was Mandy and this was a dream.

How did I end up waking up to his dream, like he was alive and kicking and growing old very well, like we imagined one fine day in the final semester, sitting on the front lawns of our college? How and where did this vision come into my subconscious mind, and that two early morning, which usually means “subah ke sapney sach hotey hain”, more so on a date which is like 10 years from the first time we clicked a picture of us together, on 13th June 2007 at Habitat Centre, which started our friendship, as I would remember.

My past continues to play weird games in my present. They are like allergies for my mind and body, but then again every allergy must to be cured for a overall healthier soul. I am sick of rectifying my past regrets and mistakes but they are so many and so deeply imbedded in my day-to-day life and style that it’s making me feel lazy and incompetent in their cure.

“Kya hua Chadz?”

Mandy will never come back in this mortal life. There is so much happening and I need to live in present and carry forward the best from the past as a legacy of relations for a future life. Sid is a friend, so are the no couples Ritika and Gautam, and Rajan and Ritika. And how can I forget Sabir. He turns 6 months old tomorrow. Make it count. That will be your power.

Mandy coming into my dreams on 15th June 2017 morning is not meant for me to go into my 10 year old past, trying matching today’s date with the 2007 moment, but understanding that it really meant to remember Sabir’s 6 month birth anniversary which falls tomorrow.

I finally got the answer for, “Kya hua Chadz?”

When you can’t control what’s happening, challenge yourself to control the way you respond to what’s happening. That’s where your power is.

Wednesday, June 14, 2017

Appetite for Love

When a man’s best friend is his dog, that dog has a problem.

I don’t remember the last time I felt like screaming out loud my eyes and heart into tears as it was seeing Chuck scared while getting a bath and blow dry. I could not even take the lump in my throat as I felt like him feeling abandoned by us. He is turning to be my best friend for all my silences. I don’t understand his word, neither does he understands my language but I feel a sense of belonging when we are together.

My love for Chuck makes me worry for him unlike I have ever worried about anyone. I don’t really know how to take it but it feels like he is my responsibility and I am ready to let go of all my wishes and dreams, or at least put these on hold, just to see him grow and ready to leave me when Mona Maasi returns from their trip. There is a strange contentment I get from the love of his tail wagging and his happy tongue sticking out for my affection, our affection.

A friendship like ours is worth all the money in world.

Lectures and scolding at home on being unknown to the importance of money hurts, I won’t lie. Especially the language and tone and volume Mandeep uses. But I have my priorities set on seeing Chuck grow and then grow out his appetite for love from me. Living the dog life, my problem life with him. Chuck is making me understand the dog life.

Tuesday, June 13, 2017

Fasting

Fasting is the first principle of medicine.
Fast and see the strength of the spirit reveal itself.

More ‘Me’ Periods, More Rising from the Ashes…

From hungry to starving to now fasting, nothing seem to reach its destination. It’s like I know the destination and can see it also, even if scarily, but I just can out figure out the right path. I keep floundering every new day and it’s exhausting.

Sometimes the time seems to be just running and other times, it feels like being in a mannequin challenge of life and death.

How do I start afresh?
Can I ever start afresh or is it all a farce that my mind refuses to let go?

I want to clean my mind, my body, my actions, my words, my gaze.. I want to clean my soul of all the bad habits and there is aplenty scaring my every living moment.

Fasting is not about a diet of burning calories. It’s about burning ego, pride and sins.

Monday, June 12, 2017

Starved

We are surrounded by data but starved for insight.

Life sometimes slaps you with the reality, and when it does, you can only be grateful, no matter how harsh it feels. My reality was the realization of how fast I judge people’s words, no matter how clear it feel, without actually for once asking them for the clarification. It was like being starved with no thought about the right action in the very next moment, only to regret it later.

My wank pact ended today over absolutely unnecessary pondering over Mayank’s whatsapp message to me, sharing his wish to kiss and hug me once and also my answer which may or may not break his heart. The message, somehow expected, had me reply with the same trumpet of me being misunderstood and blab la, but little did I know how much subconsciously I was knee deep in the thought of this 20-year-old Instagram contact inviting me for night over at his place.

Long story short, the over-thinking had me watch quite a few porn and jerk off multiple times, from afternoon till evening, till I fell asleep – laptop luckily on screen-off mode, as there was a paused porn still running.

Pampered vanity is a better thing perhaps than starved pride.

Interestingly, the very porn I started the search with, was one I recently got to know from a Grindr contact, but this one was a sweeping Argentinian movie in Spanish language. This film turned out to be strikingly, eye-popping similar to my own sexually growing up years – similar and not identical, as nothing can ever be the latter. It was like watching my own life unfold in front of my eyes, pampering a strange vanity that I have mostly regretted in past and only recently took pride as something that at least made me who I am today.

The film, STARVING, is about a sex addict guy who just goes by his life with a starvation like feeling of never being satisfied of the number of cocks he gets to suck and get fucked from. The film had a story and a strong movie, similar to my life, can still be made out of it we edit out all the porn-naked scenes. Some of his encounters were like straight inspiration from my life. 

I did not watch the whole movie but its download copy with hardcoded subtitles is saved in my laptop, because I know I will be revisiting it in future. The sex addiction of my subconscious mind will take time to get away with. I am starved for life without these judgments and addiction and really want to live a life as – Living the Life.

So I came from an environment where I was starved for information, starved for connection.

I have felt that we live in times where despite having a plethora of communication mediums, the more close we are to some, the least we talk our true feelings and instead expect that close one to understand it automatically. I have failed miserably in understanding these silent feelings but I am still trying. However what I am trying even harder and stronger is to Say What I Need To Say, even if I may find it tough to explain the information. Like I finally called Ralli last night.

I was starved of not talking to him and I knew I can’t live without his absence, especially making that absence present by running away from confrontation. But we have connection and starving that means starving every connection. Like I was staring Bunny of our wholesome threesome friendship.

I need to flower the information I have been learning about my weaknesses and blossom my connections thereon, and this life is all I have to do it. When I see 15 year old Kyle Tomlinson  return to BGT’s stage, three years after he was harshly told to hire a singing teacher, and wowing the judges with strangely a person all time favorite song, I tell myself to not lose faith in front of my fears and I am stronger than that. I will live this life, come what may.

Feed your Faith and your Fears will Starve to Death.

Sunday, June 11, 2017

Hunger

The Hunger for love is much more difficult to remove than the hunger for bread.

With the entry of Chuck and her care-taker/ house help in the family home, it’s the longest I have stayed at home. My every waking and sleeping hour has been revolving around the concern for being the one who will have to silently take the responsibility of letting go my basic movements outside the house, let alone work related – like watching movies.

There is a pleasure in this supposed pain though. I have never felt so patient and control of my words and actions, albeit a rare failure here and there. And today, the actions included staying hungry for food and a basic sense of respect for my choices, if I wanted to watch Rafael Nadal shine and win his 10th French Open Tittle.

I worked my best managing time between family dinner, looking after Chuck when no one felt like and in-between watching the match also. I couldn’t have done any better, even in the 10-15 seconds of argument with Bhai, where he as usual, shouted at me. He shows me eyes, like Mom, which only read that they are elder and I must do what they say, no matter the rights or wrongs and at times, definitely no matter my very self-respect.

I missed a lot of snacks, if not for Bhabhi who served me amidst all this. I really did not eat much dinner too, because by the time I joined, everyone was almost done and I had to be done with half of my daily diet, else I would have been eating while others finished.

The cherry in my hunger game, was listening to name calling over a genuine ant attack in living room, over a spilled sugary substance. Apparently the name calling was because Mom presumed me of being critical of ants nowadays, without even looking at real situation. However, funnily, when the truth came in front of all, there was no basic apology and in fact an add on shouting by Bhai over being royal snub to not do it myself – knowing well that he only told me to hold Chuck as all dogs were outside.

But then again, what was I thinking, because I actually smiled in my head, recalling few days old story of none between my parents accepting their fault of judging Maanji liar when they got to know over phone that their maid most probably did not come. I don’t know when the final confirmation was made about this but I did smile at learning what to unlearn if I have it in me – judgment without facts. Plus, a simple apology won’t ever make anyone small.

There is a terrible hunger for love. We all experience that in our lives - the pain, the loneliness. We must have the courage to recognise it. The poor you may have right in your own family. Find them. Love them.

I believe I am hungry for conversations but my childhood never gave me any moment for same. It was always agree to elders, blindly, even when they are wrong, and never correct them. I never understood this fake respect then, and I feel sad for never talking about it before. I guess I was weak, or maybe made to feel weak about my own beliefs.

No matter how much I exercise or eat correctly, I will never gain weight and get healthy, if I continue to be hungry for love and thereby real happiness. There is fear and pain in my relationship with my family, when it should be love. There is a limit I can live with quotes about being happy in my mind. I really need act also, no matter how smartly I may have to get.

My unknown and enrealised emotional upbringing makes it somehow a trickledown effect of my hunger for my relations with my friends. I am hungry for real friends but I get scared when life gets real, as they are not what my upbringing dictated me.

Bunny pushed me hard to talk to Ralli today and we spoke for over an hour. We spoke like regular times but I did bring the old topic again. I am guilty, PERIOD. I don’t know what was I thinking? I know I was scared but scared of what? If I am still failing at these conversations with myself; how can I ever talk clearly with anyone else.

I know history is recorded now; I just don’t ever want to do this thing again with anyone and I will be strong to never fear any conversation – it’s only then and there, as there is no right time in future. Think clearly and say what you need to say.

Love and hunger have the same Goal – Life should not Stop.

Karma is my religion but I need to know the facts to do any Karma in Life. Religion is a belief and beliefs are stronger when discussed. Discussion gives you knowledge about facts and reality and you don’t feel ashamed to apologise, as you know a simple Sorry by you will get you more knowledge, increasing your self-worth in Life.

A Happy Life, without any Hunger..

Saturday, June 10, 2017

Comparisons

Happiness is found when you stop comparing yourself to other people.

I really don’t remember the last time I woke up with a smile like today; probably the only time I vividly remember sleeping with a genuine smile was back in 2015 when I finished writing My Suicide Letter around 6 in the morning. I strongly believe it is so because I did not pour my heart and emotions and subconscious feelings unlike ever, like I did these two times. And all this, despite staying as clear and simple in my language as I can.

But why compare; for I will remember smiling and even experiencing mild yet funny laughs, feeling the happiness up into my eyes also. For those few moments, including a never felt like fresh trip down to the local market for milk and bread for home, will always be mine now to rise up to any unforeseen situation.

Interestingly, I stayed awake entire night, penning those now-special thoughts, and slept only at around 8:30am for hardly three hours. Maybe, and definitely with focus on positive thoughts, next time I will experience the sleep also – all the more happily, with no comparing in the happiness department also.

What’s more interesting is that unexplainable daytime visions of about three (if I am not wrong in recollection) tall, dark and handsome young guys – in my home – with no one from family around but me – without any thought about everyone else’s whereabouts – as I could watch the guys – very chocolaty – all naked – with physique like I prefer – with huge dicks – but not erect – going about like getting ready for work.

After much thinking, I really don’t want to compare that momentary inception of a thought’s germ. It happened and I lit up with the recollection, and I want to continue enjoy the sudden but really hot thought.

The fastest way to kill something special is to compare it with something else.

Attending a Diljeet concert, no matter the technically poor seating, especially with peanut pricing, was nevertheless a first and I enjoyed every moment of it, without comparing the similar time to how it can be made better in future. The guy is phenomenal, what a talent and personality. I confess that I hardly knew his discography, at times even his most famous ones, forget about the zero idea about the lyrics, but I did felt the music and energy as much as I can. It was eccentric time being there, experiencing the Punjabiyat and living the beats as I really should be.

Bhai’s sudden outbursts over me, Sonia’s quirky questions on my silences and Jasdeep and his wife’s camaraderie among themselves and with all of us is what I take back home. However, surprisingly, today I was very quick to divert my mind whenever it fell into comparison mode. I did not take much to the heart also, like nothing apart from my own happiness matters for my life.

Comparison is the thief of joy.

The moments of feeling a tight pag, with a latter understanding of wet hairs, either through wet pag or through sweat, were all thought into  the sardari style from Manje Bistarein; I kept fixing my pag to a strange happiness.

The moments of feeling inadequate of not knowing much of Bhangra, by seeing the true blue Punjabis and Sikhs around, especially Diljeet were failing to take away my joy of noticing the moves and dancing them to actual perfection.

And the moments of not able to pitch in something worthwhile add on to the on-going conversations – be it in car or at the concert or at the dinner – all through in totality – failed somehow to kill my smiles as I soaked in every little positive vibes I could feel and soak in.

I now feel like despite the mild comparisons, I never felt like understanding or even caring for the journeys other went through. Because just by myself, I could be all positive, without needing to think about my little privileges which others may be dreaming big time.

My happiness, my joys, my smiles… nothing could be stolen today. The raging wars and doubts are ending, no comparison for a beautiful rainbow

A flower does not think of competing with the flower next to it. It just blooms.

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