A very desi (Indian) gay man living in-between New Delhi and New York.
Well the blog isn't really a secret one, but the reason I chose 'underground' in the title? - So that I can live in the illusion that I try to be a little discreet about my perpetually high libido
Jalandhar, Punjab - I
Jalandhar. There are days, in this bitchy, awful, lonely, lovely city where I now live, called Delhi when I do miss you. I think, ‘how does it feel to have grown up your entire life in one town?’ To have known all your neighbours. To have grown up with your neighbours. To not have to shift schools. To see the town change and call those changes your own. I do miss how growing up in Jalandhar we never had to worry about space. There were streets which didn’t have running cars, there were parks which didn’t have gates, there were familiar faces who smiled back when I smiled at them. I don’t know when did the many patriarchs who inhabit you became everything that I could ever take from you. I don’t know when did those many patriarchs who live in you, love you, hate you, fuck you, get fucked by you, became…….you.
MY patriarch….is a lot like you.
YOU are a lot like my patriarch.
You both are cheaters. You both thrive on pride. You both beat your women. You both tell me to not look you in your eye. You both keep telling me I am a failure at being a man. I hear you are not a town anymore. Empty streets have become showrooms, old houses have become malls, your stoop has become more prominent, your pagdi (turban) has gotten thinner.
I want to love you. Not just because I was born in you, not just because I was brought up by you, but because……I just do! Even when you repeatedly call me a chakka, even when you accuse Delhi of ruining me, even when you tell my parents that I must have gotten fucked by many men from all over Delhi.….I do want to give you a chance. Ok, before you say anything Jalandhar, I know it’s been a while since I met you. Every now and then, you keep saying ‘I love you’ to me. You keep asking me, when will I come back. But I don’t want to come back not just because it will remind me of what I was but it will force me to imagine what I would have become had I not left you. I have been building myself against your masculinity so fiercely that I tried to claim some of my family’s women’s femininity. After being denied that femininity too, I just hovered…in between. My femininity shifted whenever I crossed the streets with my elder sister trying to avert your patriarchs’ eyes. My masculinity roared trying to hide my love for tamarind. My ‘in between’ applauded whenever I slyly looked at my school seniors play basketball, shirtless, in the mornings. My ‘in between’ stood by when you didn’t.
The last time, I was looking at you through a video call, at your changing localities, changing skies, at Lakhbir aunty’s new railings at her house, at Shayar uncle’s famous garden tree, I unexpectedly came face to face with your patriarch. My patriarch. Both, you and me, knew fully well, that this might just be the last time we both look into each other eyes, and after customary small talk, you said, “Akhil puttar….i love you”. I looked at the pixelated you for 2 seconds, smiled faintly, thinking of all the lost opportunities, lost friendships, lost lovers, lost family, and with the urge to cry, scream and laugh at the same time, I just said, “acha papa ko zara waapis phone pakdana”*.
I was traveling in the metro the other day. Taking the violet line, in between Mandi House and Nehru Place. Traveling along the route that I have taken many times when I lived around that area few years ago. I would never take a seat to sit because I loved standing next to the door and looking outside of it. When the metro shifted its route above ground after Jangpura and towards Lajpat Nagar metro station, I would feel like I was emerging out into the crowded world from dark lonely caves. The moment metro compartment I would be standing in would see the light, I would imagine my skin beginning to glow. I would imagine that light running all around, dancing across strange faces and loud phones. The way the world passed below me, after the Greater Kailash metro station, made me feel like I was part of something big. Something much bigger than me or anyone. Recently while I was taking the same route, standing the way I always used to, I hated that it had become about you and not about …
Everyone keeps talking about how great open relationship really is. Yes it is.
In case you were wondering that this post was going to be me bitching about open relationships, it isn't.
However, I do want to talk about what the most difficult part for me has been...being in an open relationship. It's been my tussle with figuring out intimacies. One thing that I have always been very clear in my head about before going into bed with anyone is that I can NOT get it up without being intimate with the other person. By intimacy I don't mean showering 'I love you's' or 'I want to spend the rest of my life with you' (thinking of which I have said 'I love you' to barely 5 people in my life) but requiring a minimum level of attachment with the other person. It could perhaps be me being attracted to the way he smells, or how intelligent he is, or good to talk to. I can not do anything without talking to the other person for some good time (which may str…
I think it started when I would start setting aside a bit of my monthly salary for a gay spa visit regularly. I wanted to shift from shared rooms, hurried blowjobs and bathing rituals under watchful eyes to familiarity of my own bed (or the convenience of not carrying lube). I met you on one of my spa visits. You could have been any other - I would have been one of many. For the first time, I had actually chosen the guy on phone and asked specifically for him. I didn't plan on having penetrative sex with you. We met, we talked, we liked each other?
I have bottomed for very few. Impulsively, I decided to do it for with you. I think in your life you come across some dicks, which not only fit just perfectly inside you, but make you feel like you could worship them. Suck them till your jaw starts hurting. Make them rest on your face while you gently caress them. Compare notes with them. Have picnics with them. Miss them when they are not around. Make you feel like that there is stil…