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. 

Powerful Past Allergies

Picture this:

It’s a somewhat posh restaurant and I can notice a table for four available right in the middle of the fully sold out sitting. Standing in a corner, as if coming out of the powder room, my gaze arrests my breathing as I see this short heighted 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.

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.

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.

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.

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..

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.