Friday, September 20

Meanwhile in a parallel Universe.


Dear Mom and Dad,

                              I tried a lot to get myself to talk to you in person but I failed in courage and guts. I’m 25 and I feel I’m living a lie, and I was. A lie that forbids me to be genuine in front of you. A lie which if lifted might scar my friendships and distance the dear ones. I should have done this a long time back. But till it seeps into you, I’ll be there while you decide to accept or not accept it. I shall wait till the verdict is out.Last few months have been extremely painful and anxiety filled– sleep and hunger depriving me. Suppressing the essence of me, muffing me to silence. Imagine what its like not to breathe, to be devoid of oxygen.

Shocking and shattering as it may sound to you, I’m straight.

I have written and rewritten this letter every week since a year now but never dared to post. It was never good enough and the words seemed always the worst assortment. But I guess they will never be apt and convenient. I have been in touch with my heterosexuality since quite a while now but always entertained it as a phase. I thought it would fade, thought it would rub off me.  I thought I’d also be normal. Everyday of my life since I can remember, it felt as if God was picking on me.  All those years of divine abandonment when you thought I had become an atheist was probably due to this. Why did God make me different? A question I’d ask myself day and night.

I couldn’t get in terms with my heterosexuality. I had no one to discuss it with. It was just me, and a foolish me. Cautious in my ways and conscious in my actions is how I always lived. I guess I was always attracted to girls. I’d look at them slyly while in a group, peeking. But could never have the courage to be out and be myself.

It’s not like I didn’t try. I did try to date two guys Alex and Manish. I tried my best to be like them but I couldn’t. I tried everything I could to not disappoint you, to not disappoint myself, but I failed. But that was a time when I was full to the brim in self-loathing. I hated myself for who I was. I thought of myself less than the others and had no motivation to live. I had secret affairs with these women that had suicidal repercussions. But now things are different. I have come to an understanding with myself and I think of me a fool to have not accepted myself the way I was. I love myself and do not think of me a criminal. I’m a good human and a kind heart, something that you had wished for me to be when I grow up.

I cannot and do not want to change anything about my sexuality, as it has made me, me. I wish to settle with a girl and have a family and I really hope you stand tall and proud besides me that moment. I hope you are there when I raise my unusual family. I hope you support me. I might have shattered some of your dreams but trust me I am that same boy, your son. I hope your understand what I have tried to put in this letter and it is my heart in there. Mom and Dad I must have caused a puncture or two in your heart but I hope you will come over it. I am ready to wait. Take your time, no matter how long. I will explain and re-explain if you are ready to listen. I hope you call me Mom and I hope you see me in the same light Dad. I’m finally happy and living life.

Your clumsy son

******* 

Tuesday, September 10

Plead.

Take a chance on me and hit me with it then 
This magic wand of love, or whatever it is.
But do sprinkle some dust and add the effect.
Make me a believer, dazzle me.
My disposition makes me an easy target.
My cloudy mind so easy to paint.
Dab on me, Stab on me,
Paint some color,
Ooze some blood.
Show me I’m alive
Show I can be saved.
Show me I’m worth saving.
If all these while you do fall for me,
Be not bewildered or upset,
If I reciprocate not.
For it’ll be your fault alone,
You my tamer, you my druid
Brew me to perfection and take your time
But not too much for I’m too impatient
And I like too many things.

Saturday, September 7

Therapy.


And when I'm sick today,
They are not letting me out,
On a sympathetic road,
Or just by the window.
To catch in the air,
A grain touched by you,
Or just steal a sniff,
Of your feel in the air.
The musk suspended
after you pass by.
And after three days they wonder,
"Why aren't the medicines working ?"
How could these- "the manmade" work
Without me drenching,
In your infectious elixir ?
Or derive from you,
The oxygen to heal me.
You are essential in ways,
Mysterious to the science of allopathy.
You my darlings are above understanding
Logics and reasonings.
You are to be felt,
And I'm being refrained.
Three days and counting.