Thrissur Pooram Part 1 & 2

Rubbing against each other in a temple congregation, converting an open air stadium into an orgy park, and feeling each other in public place does all this take India (the land of Kamasutra) to the new heights in sexual liberation? Or has it always been there? Was it harassment or consensual? Was this happening to men or women or both? Can it happen in God’s own country?

When temples can have erotic postures depicted on the wall, what is wrong in groping to match the sounds of the Elenjithara melam?

I set out on the journey (Poolgrimage) to Thrissur to do a firsthand validation of tall and short, big and small, and black and white claims, during day and night!

Day 1: It was 7 am in the morning and I set out towards Round in Thrissur. Vehicular traffic is stopped and only Natraja service was available. Round is pretty much a hub of all activities! All mini Poorams from surrounding temples (9-10) temples congregate at Round, right outside Vadakkunathan temple. Mini Poorams (parade of elephants with the Utsavamurthy on top to the beat of drums and blow of wind instruments walk towards the main temple). It is a spectacle to watch the magnificent mammals walk round with a long and highly ornate decoration (Nettipattom) that run from their forehead to the middle of their trunk. The festival falls during peak summer in Kerala and this means you have no options to escape heat, mugginess, and sweaty days that makes you feel like sitting in an oven. I also managed to click an elephant with a hard on.

8:30 AM – I came out of Thiruvambady temple and was walking towards Round. Since I was already aware of Mallu men, their appetite and Thrissur pooram (a vehicle to their meat), I was all set to receive and record their pings, paws, and prowl. 2 men walking towards the temple paused and gave me a prolonged look. Not sure if it was my egg head devoid of fuzz or I was looking like a photo journalist that got their attention. My gaydar blipped, and I confirmed the blip when I found them turning back to catch a glimpse every few feet they moved forward.

Round – 8.00 AM
For the next hour I forgot my purpose of visit and I was running in front and behind the elephants to capture their movements in my SLR. By then the parade had reached Parameikkavu temple and I caught the mahouts squatting beneath the four legged creature and resting in the shade. The orchestra (drums and wind instruments) in front of the parade reminded me of my purpose behind the visit. I must confess bare-chested men beating drums looked hot and sweaty like freshly made gulab jamoon. I thought I was going to be a part of the audience, but it was these men who made me a player.

I spent the next ten minutes catching them on my camera, you may call it a sovenir. By then there was an impressive line-up of elephants and onlookers right outside Vadakkunathan temple. My petri dish was fertile and ready, while intentions of many were furtive and fleeting. There were 3 rows of youngsters on either side of the melam who lift both their hands to cheer the bare-chested men beating drums. I saw this as an opportunity to move in and feel them while they were busy throwing their arms up in the air and none to shield my movement. And this was when I also met a few friends from Chennai. I shared my plan with them to attack the first three rows, but they said these could not be gay men but only straight men. Well isn’t it all the more exciting to convert straight to gay and teach him all tricks in the trade?
We got close the press/media pit to get a few good shots of the elephants and onlookers. But very soon we decided we had to divide and conquer rather than play on each other’s turf or miss the game elsewhere. But before we split we promised to call each other and inform any action spotted or engaged. The heat was unbearable and we soaked our towels, handkerchiefs and the inner wear. Wouldn’t playdry (fit dry) innerwear be a good idea?

Brahmaswom Madam – 11.30 AM
It was 11.30 am and the next action pit was Brahmaswom Madam (North East corner of Round) the three of us decided to move towards the next action pit to check out the intensity of the hormones. We walked through the lane and there were people standing on top of buildings and looking at the public below, but then there were some eyes that were walking with us and at time chasing us and our hormones. We looked at the spread and quality, it was neither too good nor too bad and our appetite wasn’t big and we decided to save ourselves for the best. With the hope that we would find something we trekked back half kilometer to the Round.

Sun had reached the peak and our stomach was growling. We walked around the Round scanning for any actions, possible prospects and finally settled for some rice and buttermilk. I decided skip lunch and go a fluid diet (look more slim, fit and fiddle). One among the gang was strategically seated to scan every piece of meat that entered/left the restaurant. Where do full tummy and tired legs take you? We decided to go back to my friend’s room and rest our feet for the while before the next man-hunt. The next action pit was 1.30 PM – Elenjithara melam inside the temple and we had an hour to get there.

Our territories marked, our rules were simple and clear. We also made a pact to move away if one of us found an interesting catch and we would make our rooms available for the feast.

Fifteen minutes past one I stepped out of my friend’s room and headed to the elevator and there was a guy standing near the elevator giving me goose bumps, creating a twister within me and reminding me of my adolescent days. He must be in his mid twenties; there was sculpted flesh to host a carnival and his eyes were intoxicating and lost. I gave refuge to the lost eyes and offered him a souvenir, a token and love and in return took back a rain check for the night. He was worth many nights, but I wanted to look around the town before I settled for him.

We stepped into the elevator and there were two more eye candies starring at us. I moved and rearranged like the cola bottle waiting for its turn to be filled. One of them didn’t waste any second, he ignored my friend, beamed his smile at me and when the elevator door opened I moved closer to him and gently pushed his hard button to show my consensus. He held me from the back and asked how long I worked out and I answered a few more questions and then we parted. Perfect elevator pitch!


Elenjithara Melam – 1.30 PM
We entered the temple through South Gate and it didn’t feel like a temple complex. There were many standing just outside the gate and hunting with their eyes and smile. Who wants to settle down for a meal immediately when thousands of sausages are available for sampling? Men were scattered around like mushrooms under the trees and they were ogling at men entering the temple. I have never seen anything to this scale, choice and spread. There was definitely more than one for everyone to pick and move.

Some were in groups and some were all by themselves, but there was a lot of hesitation in air. What are they waiting for where there is burning desire I shook hands and spoke with a few, and didn’t go beyond that. While some friends of mine never bothered to engage beyond a short conversation and got into action right away. By then Elenjithara melam (near the Eastern gate) had begun. My friend’s phone rang and coordinates for the barbeque pit for sausage was shared. It was a 300 sqft place, 2 sides closed with brick, one side covered with wooden grill and the fourth side completely open. I saw people pretending to look at the melam through the wooden grill, but there was something else happening. I was not sure what was exactly happening. I folded my dothi and entered the pit for some action.

Men of all age group were there in that enclosure and every inch of space was occupied. I have travelled in suburban trains in Mumbai, but this place dethroned Mumbai trains. But unlike the trains there was no push or pull, but shoulders (flagella) moved to accommodate me in the overpopulated space and within seconds moved me to center of the room. Now no consent was required, one hand grabbed by ass, the second hand grabbed the boneless muscle and was vigorously exercising, third hand caressed my chest and fourth hand started to finger my ass. I felt like a rat pinned on a dissection board, I was alive and my heart was racing. My two hands were busy one trying to hold on to my dothi and the other wiping sweat off my forehead and my eyes turned a spectator with no control or influence. Like tonsure, kavadi, etc. doesn’t this sounds like a temple ritual?

I couldn’t stand in the action pit for more than 10 minutes with so many hands working on my sausage and those ten minutes felt more like a rape. We stepped out of the high action zone and took refuge in the garden on the Northeastern side of the temple. So many men exhausted from heat and action were all seated in the shade (pavilion seat) and watching people enter and leave the sausage pit. I rested for a while in the shade, we made a few eye contacts, got a few numbers and finally decided to go back to the room and come back fresh that evening for more action.
On the way home I met a few more men. Some were waiting for me to make a gesture and to talk to them, while some waiting for me to take them home. For once I felt like a celebrity and I decided to talk to all of them and shake hands though my sack wouldn’t have that much ink to autograph all of them.

Kodamattam 5 PM
I went home washed my parched throat with a few liters of spicy buttermilk and took a cold shower and proceeded back to the Round for Kodamattam. Elephants were lined up on either side and colorful umbrellas went up and down the cheer of the crowd. While many in the crowd was busy cheering, some in the crowd were rubbing their crotch against and a few hands that I shook before I went home that afternoon now approached me. Sun was setting and people were on top of all buildings trying to catch a glimpse of the kodamattam and I looked around to see how many on the high rises were looking at my high raise. I couldn’t spot any and moreover I was a tourist and I didn’t have to care about my identity and I let the hungry souls fondle me in the crowd. But I ensured I save myself for the night beyond the twilight.

So many on the street were looking around and sometimes I had to make the first move to shake hands with them and I didn’t use any of those cliched pick-up lines, “do I know you from somewhere”, “have we met before”, “you seem so familiar”. My question was sharp, action packed and driven. “Do you have a place”? For those without a place there were always dark corners in the city.

Thrissur Pooram Part 3

Stadium 7 PM
Around 7 pm the festivities ended and the crowd was dispersing in all directions. Many men were holding hands and huge gathering proceeded towards one direction, it was the Stadium. There was gait, energy, fervor, enthusiasm, excitement, purpose, desire, and lust in their walk. As we entered the stadium I had to remind my friends on our terms of engagement – divide and conquer, call and update on action zones, man-mines, and safety, inform if you decide to take one back to the room.

2 focus lamps stood on either side of the stadium and the semi circular gallery was slowly and steadily filling up. I stood at the center of the stadium and surveyed the audience (soon to be players). I didn’t know where to start the parikrama and was looking a bellwether. The southern and northern side of the gallery was both dark and colored everyone black, there was no partiality. From the center I could barely see silhouettes. By then my friends had vanished on their sexpedition.

I started from the Southern side of the gallery, I swiftly ascended the steps and by then there were so many men leaning their back against the parapet wall and standing like wax dolls in Madame Tassauds museum. Not sure if their posture meant they were waiting to get serviced or they were waiting to service.

Before I even encouraged the thought of picking one and settling down for a quickie I decided to go visit the exhibition. Mallu men came in various shapes, sizes, and skin. The spread in age, demographics, and ethnicity was breath taking. Didn’t matter if you were black or white, tall or short, thin or meaty, 20 or 60, there was unfulfilled desire in everyone. A few decided their play dates for the evening quickly and left the stadium, some used the stadium as a play ground and rest of others as audience to their play. Those who felt shy to have audience to their play descended the steps and disappeared behind the gallery/carpark. I waited and waited closer to the northern end of the gallery, but nothing to my tingle my taste (and buds) was around.

An hour into the play the inflow into the stadium almost stopped and I noticed buzzing activity in the southern end. I was also desperate to find something handy and dandy. Some were seated on the steps, some leaning against the wall and some trying to pull you into the action pit. The walk across the gallery was almost a triathlon race.

There were desirous animals watching me from behind the bush. Some making weird noises (hooting, mating calls, grope and groan) and making gestures to trap my attention. Some even touched me, but I ducked and pushed them aside and kept walking ahead. I felt like I was walking into a forest. By then my eyes were slowly adjusting to the dim light and darkness and my mind was processing those high adrenalin and testosterone filled images.

Was it Ford assembly line, oiled and regulated or was it ration shop queue, with pull, push and gossip or was it porn booth filled with graphic images, groping sounds and strong smell of hormones? I was walking south while an orderly crowd walked towards me paying their obeisance to the Kings standing against the wall. Some smooched their King and moved on, some walking on their knees orally satisfied him and moved on, some suckled his nipples like new born piglets, some hissed into his ears like hissing secrets in Nandi’s ears, some touching his gluteus like worshipping cows. A few Kings were worth paying obeisance, but it was difficult to jump the line. There was a queue for every kind of Seva. The worship was intense and faithfully fetish. Wow! It was religious sex and religiously sex! No jaragu..jaragu

Devotee or King? That was the choice that confronted me at this point of time. Remember election is a democratic process, Yes, by the people, of the people and for the people, but keeping your throne and satisfying people is your responsibility. I went through the crowd in half mind and suddenly I found a beehive of activity around me. Next minute my cargos were down and my tee covered my face and I was crowned the King with so many queens and drones around. A sex hive!

My mind went haywire from emotional and hormonal overload. I was reminded of the churning of the ocean of milk with the rope of snake and there were people on either side of me. There was competition not for the throne, but to satisfy the man on the throne. Who gets to stay longer, who gets the Kings juice? Sex was definitely king size!

But there is downside to so many hands and mouths reaching out to you. It can be rough and you don’t know what infections (inclusive of gingivitis) you get to take home as souvenirs. I couldn’t manage the crown and the thrown for long and suddenly I pulled up my pant and lowered my tee shirt and ran down the steps. Finally the runaway King decided to rest his bruised dick for the night from all the manhandling, while his friends stayed back at the fest for the feast.

City never sleeps should be the tag for this city. That night saw more action at the Round and finally it was rain that sent people back to their room. Next morning I heard more tales from my friends and we exchanges stories while waiting outside the temple for more Pooram action. I was still on a high from all the action in the last 24 hours and my roving eyes, high energy got me a few room invitations. I turned them down and headed home. My friends told me people were making out in the lobby, verandah and hallways in the hotels.

That evening I reached the train station an hour in advance and to my delight the train was delayed by half hour. This means I get to scan the passengers travelling to Bangalore (train to Bangalore leaves before Chennai). I entered the train station and decided to hang out by the lobby to scan every piece of luggage. Within minutes I got an invite from a Thrissur native and we found a safe spot to engage right behind the ATM machine. Let me tell you finding sex in Thrissur is easier than finding ATMs.

Two full days of sex, sex and only sex. From the moment I boarded the train in Chennai till I boarded the train back to Chennai there was action even before every milestone. Wow! Call it hell, heaven or God’s own country then I don’t mind living there forever. I have heard friends narrate stories of nude beaches across the world, about Amsterdam (sex capital of the world, but never heard such sexcapedes during a temple congregation. I have hit so many lingams in one go!I have a new record; if you are reading this let us go back again next year to create a new record of Linga points. First year they call them “Kanni samis”, should we call them “Sunni samis” and should we call visitors with 14+ years of experience as Gay samis instead of Guru samis”?

PS: It took me one week to sit down and narrate scene by scene, mile by mile and hour by hour. I am sure many of you will be appalled and I won’t be surprised if you asked me to take this off my blog spot. Thanks to my fag hag who gave me a place to stay and enjoy. I hope she doesn’t feel offended after reading me sexcapade.

Some of my friends think I have stooped down to make such posts and they opine that I’ve turned into a slut ever since this trip. May be they are right! I had sex with a vendor who came to meet my boss at work and I had web cam sex with a fireman in NY. I must tell you that I am no saint! This is my diary of life and I shall record every incident worth remembering and sharing.
Sexpedition continues….

Mallu Macaroons

A chat screen for somewhere opened up and within the next 5 minutes I was on IRCTC web looking at various train options and various classes to travel to Thrissur Pooram. It doesn’t hurt to share your dreams, desires and travel plans with your friends and colleagues because you don’t know who will remind you and push you to your dream “destination”. And also may be it also doesn’t hurt to be single because you are able to plan your journey and book your tickets in 5 mins. Thanks Seema!

Onward and return tickets were waitlisted and in the meantime I started scouting for accommodation. It is not easy to get accommodation in Thrissur during Pooram and hotel rooms go upto to Rs 10,000 per night. A colleague of mine promised to help me with accommodation, but 5 days before the travel date she ditched me! By then hotel rooms were almost sold out and those that were available were unreasonably priced. I was losing hope with waitlisted ticket and with no accommodation. I spoke to a few friends, but had no option but to be imposing and be shameless. Atlast a good friend of mine from Thrissur invited me to stay at her place and another helped me get my tickets confirmed.

I was excited about the trip that I took the day off from work just to pack and get ready for the travel. I must say the excitement also made me decide to go commando. I reached the station an hour before the departure and the platform was empty. I stood at the entrance to the platform and started scanning every piece of baggage that was arriving to board the “Alleppey Express”. I felt everyone who was on this train to God’s own country was headed to Thrissur for Pooram festival. Well does that make them gay or does that give me a reason to hit on them? But there is nothing wrong with roving eyes and hoping heart? Right?

I always arrive an hour before the train just to scan passengers/co-passengers and if you are lucky you can find berth mates. Finally the empty bogies were paraded into the station, lights were turned on and doors were thrown open to the crowd to board. I found a safe spot for my baggage and came out to catch the fresh breeze that was coming towards the train to Kerala.

Infact I thought of scanning other air-conditioned bogies to see the spread of the menu before I decide on my main course, but I decided to keep that for later, I had 9 hours of journey ahead of me to inspect goods on their way to God’s own country. I am sure God will just be fine because I was just ensuring that there are enough good ones are sent to his country. And I also wanted them reach their destination fresh and fine.

When I looked at him the first time I lost track of the next few minutes. He was hot, handsome, hairy and his lips were as pink as a new born. Should I say he was like “Arvind Swamy” in his early twenties? He was running around like mouse and I looked at him like a Lion. There is no use in hunting a prey until you are really hungry and sometimes the mouse can be recreation too. I brought back my attention to the names on the chart pasted on the side of the bogie. There was a sense of excitement and I felt like I was looking at the menu card. It was Koshys’, Georges’, Mathews, Jacobs and Shibus of the world. But who is for breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner, snack with tea or just as desert post the meal. It was like walking into the vegetable market and you always pass the first few displays with the hope the better stuff is waiting inside. I couldn’t make my mind which one was better. Is it a sign of greediness or a sign of prudence?

I scanned their ages and a put together a must see list in my mind. Yes, those were Mallu macaroons! I waited by the side of the bogie for the Ks,Gs, Ms,Js and Ss of the world to arrive. Cant I get cozy with the Koshys? I was dripping wet, not sure if it was the weather or the names and ages on the chart. Some walked with laptop bags, some were in a group, while came with their wife and kids. I asked myself why good looking men end their life with woman? And it was terrible to see them carry a child and half dozen bags on them. Isn’t that suicidal?

Finally the Deccan Queen with Mallu bloodline crossed Alleppey Express at Chennai Central. My man was back with no luck after chasing the TTE for a berth. He was waitlisted 17 but was determined to board the train. If he was not determined to travel, I was determined to call off the journey and go home with him. There was a big grin after a long hesitation and then he asked me if I was a native of Kerala. Can’t men outside of Kerala can be hot and happening? He appreciated my bald and clean shaven look and at that point of time I didn’t want to lose the golden opportunity to put my paws on the mouse’s tail to show my interest. Remember I going commando that night, and it was difficult to keep my little brother from getting excited.

“We both have desires to quench. You want to touch my head and I want to touch yours, and you don’t have a confirmed berth, why not we share the same berth and desires for the nite? In the meantime we exchanged numbers and I saw the guard waving the green light. He smiled and I reminded him my berth B1, 19 and stepped into the coach. He boarded one of the ordinary coaches in the rear.

So close yet so far. We were in the same train headed to the same destination, but our destinies seemed so far. I was secretly nursing this hope that this man of a 3 year child would come back with this back pack. I got into the train and waited for the TTE to examine my ticket before I start to survey my hunting ground and species. Survey was one way to make my plan A, plan B and plan C and the backup was always self service (apna haath jagannath).

I pulled out my mobile and sms’ed a few of my friends to proudly announce my catch at the railway station. My fag hag was totally surprised at my behavior, agility and swiftness. Already? In response to her sms I wrote to her, “If I were straight you would be mother of a few now”, while she responded, “ Hey Mr. I would have made you a proud grandfather by now”.

Will the dacoit ransack the Deccan Queen or will the Queen get coital with dacoit or will she ditch the dacoit?

I messaged him a few times to make sure he didn’t have a confirmed berth in the regular compartment. I had no clue if my messages reached him. I tried calling him, while Airtel network was constantly out of reach. Mobile network was playing a villain between us. It took a little over an hour for the train to reach Katpadi and finally when he arrived my sword instantly went up. Well isn’t this how Knights salute the Queen?

He flashed a big smile, I held his bag, put my arms around him and help him board the coach and next thing I remember was the shrill cries of the Chaiwala. I looked at the mobile and it was 5 past 6. I put my hand out and noticed that the berth had more room than last nite. He had already got down at his destination. I checked for my wallet and I found a small note along with my wallet. Before I opened the note I re-winded the time together last nite. There was lot of play, laugh and some talk.

The note read....

To the man who hunted me down and shunted me like an empty bogie,
Thanks to IRCTC for the waitlisted ticket. I never knew a stranger can offer to share his berth with me. It felt weird, but it was heavenly. Do you expect me to say that it felt better than my nuptial night? Can we travel together in the journey of life? You look beautiful even when you were asleep. Call me when you wake up and let me know how I can get rid of the hickies before I reach Hyderabad on Sunday?

Yours
Bitten and smitten waitlisted ticket

I called him the next second, we spoke for an hour. I told him how this journey was instigated by Mallu (my colleague), train confirmed by another Mallu (friend), accommodation arranged by another Mallu (friend) and finally my happening night with the Mallu from Hyderabad. I heard his laugh and the train slowly pulled into Thrissur station. I invited him to join me for the festival.

Was this a precursor or curtain raiser to more action over the next two days?
Did he join me? Come back for more on Mallu Macaroons!

A walk to remember

To the woman who made me feel like a man,

The walk to her room was beautiful and every inch of space as punctuated with trees and shrubs, and it was difficult to get a glimpse of the sky. She opened the doors of her room, left the key in the lock hanging from the padlock and invited me to visit the pond besides her room. It was a beautiful evening and the sun was just setting and I could hear songs of the homecoming birds. Nature was rejoicing!

I never knew karma could be resolved online. A year ago, she was in Germany and she had stumbled upon my blog, thanks to Google search. She left a few interesting comments on my blog and though she was busy finishing up her publication work over the next few weeks she kept coming back. I was kind of curious to know who someone in Germany was reading my blogs and I was happy to see those little notes she sent across.

We set our foot in the direction of the pond and we stepped on a carpet of dried leaves and twigs. The ground looked like autumn while the temperature was summer like. With every step I heard the little cracker go under our feet. I have done so many walks in my life, but this one seemed so special.

Over the last year we exchanged some emails and finally when comfort and trust arrived she suggested that we do a voice and webcam chat. She was curious to see the man behind the scribe. One fine day we decided to do a cam and voice chat. I have spoken to men online, I have done a camera chats too, but never with a woman. I was shy, reserved, felt like a fish out of pond throughout the conversation.

I looked at the pond, looked inside the pond and finally let me eyes walk around the pond. I surveyed the perimeter and stood on one of the side, but could never get to see my reflection through the dense green vegetation. I wanted us to sit there and cherish the moment looking at the pond together and feel the power of unspoken words. Our karma lines crossed and my heart was celebrating.

She arrived in India late last year, we spoke on the phone a few times, but I couldn’t go to her place in Kerala to meet her. She was clear that would not go well in her house. The only other plan to meet her was during one of her trips to Chennai.

I didn’t spend much time that evening looking through my closet to choose my trouser and tee for the evening. I didn’t bother wearing an expensive perfume. I have never been out with a woman, never met one for coffee, never got the door for her, and never been invited to her den. I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing, following the right manners. I decided to keep it cool, casual and lose.

I wanted to sit by the pond and freeze the moment of togetherness that had finally arrived, but I was not sure how this would be construed, I held back my desire while I kept my foot forward. I felt special, I felt like a teenager and there was something indescribable in air. Definitely I knew it was not the coffee or the extra spoon of sugar that went in the coffee.

It was a typically village house with tiled roof, teak reapers running on the slanted ceiling. Everything from floor, to wall to ceiling was so simple. Walls were white and blank and there were no paintings, the only painting was the evening sunset. She pointed out that the evening sun pierced through the netted windows and brilliantly lit up the room, but today the sun was down by then. I registered her commentary on the sunset and looked up at the white ceiling. A sheet of polyethylene was running between the reapers and tiles. I have never seen this kind of ceiling before. May be it kept insects, squirrels and even snakes from seeking refuge in the roof. She gave me a quick tour of the house before we settled into the chairs in the living room. It was impossible to find such a house in the city. It was my dream house.

The chair was comfortable and so was the conversation. We talked about life, we discussed our philosophy, and our friends also joined the conversation. I didn’t plan to take so many to her small home that evening.

At an opportune moment she offered me a choice between a glass of water versus black tea. Water was the best option for the mouth that kept yakking all evening. I remember sharing my unending stories and unredeemed mileage with men. She was fine, and never sneered. And sometime back she even offered to join me in journey of life without any physical commitment. Now she offered me crumbs from the “Mysore Pak” she made, it was delicious. I have seen the sky, but never seen it in a woman’s heart. My respect for her and for women moved up a few notches.

Should I call this a date? Does good conversation and exchange of information over a cup of coffee qualify for a date? There was no overpowering testosterone in the air. There was no carnal intent. I felt a sudden surge in energy and I froze the moment and imagined what it would to be a straight man and fall in love with a women. When I grew up I missed capturing the emotions and feelings during puppy love, but now I felt I was back again at the same point. I captured the feeling in the remote corner of my heart.

Suddenly life seemed so basic, simple, safe, secure and full of promises. The struggle that I seemed to have with my sexuality vanished and my multiple identity dissipated.

Was it the setting or was it my friend who accepted me for who I am made the evening and/ the meeting memorable? Was there expectation in us? Was it just friendship between us? I knew I would have never been able to do this if I had gone there with expectations. I didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to clarify, and I wanted to enjoy the moment. It was my first date with a woman and I wanted that to be etched that way in my history of life. Hope she will allow me to do so.

Yours faithful chick magnet!

February Fragrance

When this son of Venus and Mercury arrives there is excitement in air, the evening breeze loaded with romance, slick poetry in the tip of the tongue, arms that extend thorn-less rose stems across miles, and beating hearts on their sleeves. Even saints were not spared! Well it is February and what do you expect other than romance, courtship and excitement? But why just 28 days? You figure it out!

Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love said Albert Einstein. Art, music and other “common interest” made their paths cross, and Krish had known Vinay to the last alphabet and his position bed. That was customer service beyond Hyatt and Marriott. They were much more and complete than the couple in the Wills hoarding and it seemed like there were “Made for each other”. What does that “e” do in made?

Oh wait…did I hear February also means summer in Southern hemisphere? So, what is summer without the bonfire?

Krish and Vinay had known each other for over 3 years and their explored intimacy was only recent. But nevertheless his majesty gave away pearl necklaces on the weekends (gift of endearment) and bedtime stories were painted, washed and new ones re-painted on the sheets. February does its magic on everyone from Saint to mortals.

One day Vinay’s friend Veena noticed the announcement on Krish’s Facebook and called Vinay to confirm and congratulate. But a minute into the conversation Vinay logs into Facebook and discovers his future. Frozen in shock or excitement? He catches Krish on the chat. Krish confirmed his engagement to a girl and the screen went blank, numb and dead.

And what do you do when the bonfire turns into a brushfire? Should Vinay call for help? Should Veena spill the bean that it was her cousin who got engaged to Krish?

Was it walk the talk with Vinay or walk the aisle with the bride that mom chose? Some men never grow up and can never make the right choice. Vinay always knew he was a cat on the wall but still entertained and intertwined with him and now it was en”tearment”.

No call, no communication of any sort, he abruptly vanished from Vinay’s life like a Kangaroo in the outback. How does it feel when loyalty and love is betrayed? But what about their loyalty to themselves, to their own deepest desires? Veena knew her cousin was getting married to Krish and Vinay never received an invite for wedding, and neither of them could do much about it.
Both life and love has many reasons and seasons and sometimes it unfolds with a surprise to many in courtships and out of courtships.

Can a wedding invite really push down the thinking spiral? Huh… a thinking spiral? Remember the antonym for spiral is straight so should I now rephrase it as a straight spiral or just leave it as spiral? A spiral is a spiral is a spiral! But spirals seem so exciting and churn in the stomach is so intense when left under gravity, isn’t it?

Sidharth and I shared the bench in school, and over the years of growing up we shared just more than the bench. The benchmark!

He is the only friend from high school that I am in touch with. He could be in the middle of the ocean, but never failed to wish me on my birthday for the past 20 years. That intimacy we shared during our schooldays ended with our schooldays, but this gesture made me hold on to our friendship close to my heart. I never had an answer as why he remembered my birthday and didn’t fail to call me every year. Though it sounds like a nice gesture sometimes it feels spooky that someone is keeping count of your age.

We have made out so many times in the school terrace, during the class, and many times at my terrace at home. But as life plays, we went to different colleges and specialized in different streams and took up different professions. I was grounded while he sailed boats and oceans.
Are we hiding our bows and quiver of arrows? And why? Every time he comes into the town he calls me and we make plans for a casual meet, but then it never happens. We discuss about life, work, our families over the phone, but we never spoke about schooldays. This was like driving a bike with no rearview mirror. Absolutely no opportunity for reminiscence!

I probably felt he was exploring as a part of the growing up and coming to age process and there was nothing more deep or inveterate. Every time he called he would curiously ask me if I am single and why am I still single? Since I was not able to gauge his orientation or preference I never gave a definitive answer. Our friendship existed even in uncertainty.

And this time again when he was in town he called me but there was a tone of sadness in his voice. He asked me how I am able to put up with parental and societal pressure and continue to stay single. But he insisted that always saw him single and never even thought of marriage. This made me “queer”ious, but I had nothing more than the past to extrapolate.

I wanted to meet and share my story with a friend who has made it a point to call me for every birthday since we left school. I definitely didn’t want any secrets between us, but at the same time I didn’t want our friendship to be washed by the oceans to a no-man’s-land. Dichotomy and my secrets were killing me. Isn’t walking around the fire much safer than walking in the fire or into the fire, right?

Wearing a plastic smile, carrying my gift of memories from our school days, I could never muster courage to attend his wedding and queuing up to shake hands with him and his wife and tell her that I know his "tool from school".

A few weeks later an unfamiliar number but a familiar voice reached me and it was Sidharth. There was no trace of sadness or compulsion that was there in his earlier call, and he was levitating in happiness over his “engagement”. He delivered the news about his marriage in March and promised to come over to my place to invite my parents. Isn’t sham is one letter short of shame?

Will Krish and Sidharth stay in the marriages happy or will they visit the “Gayville” at night? Everything seems transient and no answer in the horizon.

I never knew the real him and he never knew the real me, but I guess that is how many straight relationships and marriages are today. I could never figure out who is gay and how long the person remains gay? I am not even sure if we have people committed to their “gayhood” if not to their men/women.

Unreclaimed and unrequited such is life, love and friendship. The fragrance of February and friendship ended in a mélange of madness and marriage. How many more Februarys’ and how many more such Ks and Ss? Did I say or sound cases? Huh!

I am single and fabulous and for the rest who are single out there remember Robert Browning - Grow old with me! The best is yet to be.

The Hard Talk

Olivia Judson, an author and a columnist with NY Times in this week’s column writes “When it comes to sex and reproduction, mammals are ultra-orthodox and, frankly, rather dull”. May be she doesn’t know about us. In her column she worships “Ciliates” as one of the most sexually unorthodox group on earth. Aha!

Now we men/women have a role model to look up to and learn from. But Olivia may never know that and she may never know our capabilities over the handset, our unorthodox approach to intimacy. But when she reads this she will definitely change her opinion on Mams and mammals.

Isn’t there always an element of pleasure involved in communication? You pick up the phone and there is always a message to convey, a mood to display, and finally variety of emotions to suggest and enthuse. Isn’t there beauty in communication without touch, sight, and just with your imagination and vocal chords? Am I making it sound like an Opera?

Physical intimacy over the handset? To some this may sound excitement and music to ears and organs, and to some it may sound hideous and heretical. I am not sure how Alexander Graham Bell would have reacted if he knew that his invention was used for copulation. Would he be proud? Would he have used it for this purpose? Who cares!

Well phone sex or hard talk is intimate enough to be safe and convenient despite the distance. Sometimes you talk to people whom you already know and sometimes you get to know the person after the talk and sometimes it really doesn’t matter. The message is simple – excite the party at the other by engaging them in a sensual way. Am I making it sound like telesales?

It does matter if you reduce your age by a few years and exaggerate your stats by a few inches, they won’t know and mind it. What is wrong in narrating what you like to do? And what is wrong in giving a running commentary of what you are doing and what you would like to do. Isn’t that experience sharing?

What are you wearing today followed by where are you now? Have you heard that question on the phone in a very sensual way? That is where it all begins and the reply unveils the portrait of the person just enough to etch the graphical image to be used during the conversation and act. The next tollgate in the act is to understand the need of the other person and their act to excitement and climax.

In seconds beautiful clothes decorate the floor, subject lies on the bed like a model, both hands are set and busy while the shoulder holds the handset. Perfect coital pose, isn’t it? Eyelids shut, mind projecting the image, olfactory nerves generating the scent, your hands are ready to work on you and for you. You know the right pace, the sensual hold, the right position while you fantacize of the unknown and unseen. Mating calls over the phone! Does it sound animal like?

Isn’t this better than just starring at porn on the computer or TV screen? You have a real voice creating the mood, making the touch, holding the tool, and helping your reach the climax at your own speed and comfort. You enter, you let it enter at your own conditions of temperature, pressure violating Charles and Boyles and many more Laws in Physics, Chemistry and Biology. Doesn’t this sound unorthodox enough for Olivia Judson?

Phone sex can happen between strangers, friends and partners in a relationship separated by distance. And today mobile phones have made the act even easier and you don’t need a long telephone cable running through the house and you can climax in your garage, bathroom, bedroom or kitchen counter giving you the same element of pleasure. Mobile sex, huh?

When the act ends you can either choose to hang up or continue to talk depending on your mood and if it comes free or for a charge. It doesn’t fall either in the category of infidelity or prostitution. It is neat, clean, disease free, and at your convenience and at your home. Wow!

So what you waiting for? Time to choose the cheapest network provider in your country. There is no Regis Philbin to ask you if you want to phone a friend or a stranger, you decide your cuisine and menu for the day.

Communicate, copulate and compete with the Ciliates.

Yours Sinfully & Sincerely,

Labor of love!

This will be my last blog for the year and I am ending on a note of contemplation and introspection and definitely not on a note of ridicule. I will come back next year with more fodder for thought and with tales from my travel to Turkey. Hamams and Turkish delights will be served. Yum! Yum!

For now, just come with me on the pride journey that happened in my city, earlier this year.
It was one of those warm days with bearable humidity. Chennai gets many of those days in a year, but today was special and different. To some it was an extra humid day and to some extra cool. The walk on the shores of Marina was symbolically started from “Labor statue”. Labor of love!

Let me belabor…

Public may refer to us as “dykes” and “queer” and label our choice as biologically deviant, but there we march with pride and in solidarity to recolor prejudice and malice with rainbow shades. You can call this a walk of awareness, a walk of camaraderie, a walk to end bigotry, and bottom line a walk to make people think (walkers and watchers).

I never dreamed of this walk to happen in my life time in a city labeled as complex and conservative. Is it difficult to walk among a bunch of homosexuals without being peered, hit and scratched? All said and done…It is definitely one of those days to be inked in the annals of Chennai’s history. A bookmark in the pages of the city!

The pride peacocks assembled behind the labor statue well before time. Some exchanged looks, some shook hands, some diligently exchanged members for later hook up, but before the media vultures arrived they hid their faces behind the Venetian masks, big sun goggles, and covered their flora from the June skies.

Wiping the trickling sweat beads, adjusting their mask, and holding to the placards they passionately marched yelling their memorized slogans. Some afraid of media attention stayed away from holding a placard and they silently marched looking at the world through those small holes in the masks.

A few owners walked their heterosexual pets and I found some without owners (stray) walking the march. Do dogs have a choice? Those bitches were fag hags!

Some of those who marched the pride had nothing to do with the gay community. They were straight as arrow and came to support their friends. Do they even understand what it is to be gay? Or was it a photo opportunity and free publicity?

I have had incidents where some of my straight friends whom I came out to became uncomfortable when I put my hands around them. These guys couldn’t differentiate between touch of friend from touch of lust. Their misgivings are understandable, but how I do make them feel comfortable?

As it gathered mass and momentum I migrated from the sidelines of the march and moved to the center of the march.

I turned around and realized that I was surrounded by homosexuals, many of them were strangers. The smell of testosterone was overpowering. I paused and looked at my community the purpose of the march.

For some this was another opportunity to swap numbers, exchange looks, and write an open invitation to bed. Then there were a few who stayed in the sidelines of the march and their sexuality. They came to check out and possibly ogle and take home one or two from the crowd.
The march slowed at time, had its moments of silence, suddenly there was cheer and it moved swiftly towards the destination.

Some among the community wore sexuality on their sleeve and walked around as through it is their only identity to manhood and ticket to salvation. In the gay world honesty is scare and promiscuity is an epidemic.

Many of us walked around with broken hearts, many of us were cheated, many of us were dumped, and many of us were used like surgical cotton. Many at times the straight world was less threatening and treacherous than the gay world. We extricated ourselves from the web of gossip and treachery, temporarily fled the island of loneliness, and marched with pain, bitterness and issues of trust. Yet we walked bravely to reform the society wearing the badges of dishonor and carrying baggages of deceit, depression and disappointment. The fire of truth and transparency was long extinguished and the torch of infidelity and dishonesty was held high. Isn’t it time for self reformation?

It may be okay and accepted to do such marches in the West, but East is not yet there. We lack basic hygiene to deal with homosexuality. Do we have counseling facilities for homosexuals, their immediate family and friends? Is there someone out there who can teach us how to live with dignity, responsibility of a relationship, pride without prowling, promiscuity and preying? Don’t we have to be educated with the rules of relationship, hygiene in physical intimacy, safety of safe sex and importantly learn not to treat humans as sex toys.

As the march reached the final destination “Light house” the crowd dispersed – some dispersed with euphoria to attend the evening party and some returned home with melancholy.
Sadly no one seems to have realized that there is a long list of things to be done within the community, but we’ve already out on a march to reform the society. Another pride march ended without a purpose.

Tell me how many gay relationships have lasted fora life time? Even before the tear of disappointment from the previous relationship dries we are ready to date the next. With low threshold to boredom, patience and maintain relationship what respect are we really expecting from the society?

That night Chennai march was nationally telecasted. Orthodox, cocoon, caterpillar image of Chennai was repainted. Next morning front pages in most newspapers carried images from the pride walk with words and voices from the faces behind the masks. Homosexual men trapped in marriages made sure their wives were not around while they enjoyed very word and picture in the newspaper.

In the vortex of Sexuality 20s or 40s?

What about 40's and what about men in 40's? Is 40 a biological barrier or a psychological barrier? Should I treat these as independent questions or should I treat them together? Does it matter? Anyways both questions seem to be juicy, spicy, hot, sticky, cerebral and with lot of mileage for redemption and exploration.
Confessions first….

My earlier encounters with men in their 40’s were intriguingly interesting. Intrigued because, they seem to carry the love, passion and spark that ignited my dampened and withered soul. Interesting because, all of this came without any commitment or shelf life. Was it just an attraction/infactuation from my end? Or was it mutual? Every relationship however long and momentary is for mutual gain. Let us park this question for now and rewind my tapes from my teenage and tormenting twenties to analyze and understand mutual needs and the need for intellectual arousal.

All said and some never done, I found men in 40’s extremely warm, caring, strong and living from the heart. I felt they had reached the stage of maturity and seasoning in life, and was sure they would take care of me and never hurt me. But then I was in my late teens and it was too early for me to walk into their shoes and understand what they were looking for in me.

Grey and bald in worldly parlance meant thinkers and intellectuals with oozing wisdom who've weathered the storms of life. Wow…sound so hot material and mentally stimulating…huh? Yes, I did chase them because I wanted to share feelings of my sexuality and have them for mentors and look up to them for support, guidance and comfort in life. This was something that I could never get at home with my undecided, and confusing, undefined and contorted sexuality.

You can label men in 40’s as my “festish” but in reality I needed validation; I needed someone to comfort me and someone to teach me how to live with my biological inadequacies, teach me sexual proclivities of life.

Was I caught in the vortex of sexuality, delusion, desire, or curiosity or all of the above? I was truly a science student, experimenting with men and my sexuality. Sigmund Freud was not around, if he would have been around, he would have “theorized” my experimentation and coordinated my vertex of sexuality.

Curiosity always remained the denominator of our life. I wanted to understand the psychology of men in 40’s.What do men in 40’s want? What is their expedition all about? Are they vanquishing their suppressed emotions? Is it their 2nd adolescence? Is it onset of andropause? I had so many questions to answer and find answers.

I hunted down those men in grey, those with receding hairline and those who fathered a few kids. What a combination, huh? What a choice of menu! Raging hormones was waging a war inside me. I felt even more attracted when I heard them talk about their wife and children. This is because, I always longed to have a family of my own and I wanted a man who would take care of me like his own family. I wanted my men and I wanted the warmth of a relationship and kids. Honestly, someone was living my life and dream. I wanted to enjoy be with someone who was living my dream. It is natural to feel jealous, but I just wanted to be a part of that life and dream. I wanted to know how easy it was to be gay, married and with kids? I also wanted to know how men in 40’s think. How to be free from guilt and yet happy? How to keep everyone (wife, society, in-laws and parents) happy in the marriage?

Life has both reasons and seasons! Twenty years later as I approach my cliff of my 30s I am just like those men who I chased – that holds good only with respect to my physical landscape. I was still single, I didn’t have kids, and I was not in a marriage cocooned by the society. Today my geography is identical to theirs, I am bald and my beard is almost grey but my libido has calmed down. Those grey ones were interesting to observe from my side of the shore.

Mallik, married father of two, grey hair not bald, biked into my life after an infatuation bid at the traffic light. His eyes were telegraphing untold stories, his heart was idling faster than his bike engine and his tongue kept pushing those words down back into his gullet. The light turned green and chaos soon returned on the streets. At this stage of life I was not looking for any support, any clarity, any buoy to get me ashore, but still curiousity made me look through the torn plastic in the rear window. He was following me like a maniac, swerving and jumping red lights. That was the power of the hidden desires and propulsion by hormones. He was 2 meters away from me, but there was a lot of hesitation to speak to me I got down at my destination. I went up to him and asked him what he wanted, well I didn't want to assume anything. The cliched pick-up line "Do I know you from somewhere" (more than a pick-up line it is a line of confession that I am gay) was reeled at me. I smiled, acknowledged and understood the urgency to end his hesitation and invited him to know me over a cup of arabic wine. A few gulps brought out his hidden desires, and the verb appeared to be a noun on the surface. He was stuck in the same vortex of sexuality that I was stuck many years ago.

With 2 kids and a lovely family, he wanted to explore this side of his life that he has ignored for years. 15 years ago coming out was not an option, and marriage was an indelible part of gay men life. But today world wears sexuality on their sleeve. Bollywood movies rant about sexuality, article 377 gets front page coverage in national newspapers and pride marches have becomes a part of every metro culture, Mallik wanted to come out of the self imposed exile. He felt more confident to talk about his desires and he could find more people accepting and understanding. How long can someone hold their soul secrets, guilt, and repressed emotions? His needs were both psychological and psychobiological. What a reversal of role! The 40+ man wanted to catch up with his un-entertained 20s.

Is 40 the new revelation point in a man's life? Does it take him on an inward journey to discovery, enjoy and empty his desires and guilt? Does it give them time, confidence, and courage to hear murmurs of their heart?

Some men accept their suppressed sexuality, some think of it as a fashion statement, while some men blamed their newfound preference on their spice less marriage. Niranjan, a businessman in his 40's, bald and grey, with 2 kids, blame his insipid marriage, and difficult wife for his exploring alternate sexuality. At a common gathering Niranjan came strongly and fiercely at me. Niranajan wanted someone with whom he could share, discuss, confess and engage his dreams and desires. In short a verb cum noun version of mate!

When I rewinded his tape of youth, he confessed his liking for men, but he said he could never muster up courage to stay single or go against his family wish to get married and fell a prey to social mores and quotient guilt. Niranjan is one among many caught in the boundaries of society, self imposed duties towards parents and guilt from surreptitiously engaging in his manly desires. Life in the animal kingdom seemed easy, since there were no moral rules to comply with and copulation was just for procreation. But human world driven by greed, need and want, lust and desires, came with moral rules, frameworks governed by the society. The moral rules of sexuality and morality seemed thin, yet powerful and emotionally/mentally draining.

I still feel 40+ men are perfect husband material in many ways. They were busy making money, paying EMIs, responsibly attending to the needs of their demanding marriage (kids and partner), but they had little time to pause, reflect and recollect. Even if they paused there was nothing much they could do because the vortex of society was powerful to escape. When I paused them they confessed their loneliness, disconnect and sadness. I have noticed that some are interested in connecting at cerebral level, while some are only interested in physical emoluments from the relationship. In general both categories are clear what they want.

Should we blame his repressed emotions or sparking marriage? Niranjan is depressed, and often battling such strong self consuming emotions. His repressed desire was eating his peace more than the guilt after feeding. Many at times we discussed about bottled up sexuality, confused identity, raunchy encounters, and finally garnished our conversation with philosophy of life with the 40s club. He says he finds peace in my company and in our conversation.

My earlier men in 40's were interesting, strong, focussed, but now my men in 40's seem stressed out, smoldering but nevertheless chivalrous. 40s had nothing to do with neither psychological nor biological barrier. It seemed like they wanted to entertain their suppressed desires. There was a time when I wanted their family life, and now they were willing to trade their family life for my singlehood on the peripheries of society.

The vortex of life and sexuality seemed powerful at 20s and 40s.

Flower power

We are colleagues and we’ve known each other for just over 2 months and she waited for the moon to come up and then invited me to the terrace. By then most of the office was empty. Her long hair was touching the parapet wall and I was imaging a Cleopatra on the balcony. I didn’t know what to expect but it felt like walking into the doctor’s room to discuss my blood sample result. I’m not sure what followed was an information, proposition or a confession or all of the above? She said she was not looking at me as just another colleague and she had a “thing” for me. The very moment I heard this I lost my hearing and my heart was in my mouth. I felt dizzy and moved away from the parapet wall.

I looked into her eyes and the storm was brewing. She broke down and summarized her 5 year old married life in just three words “on the rocks”. I was not sure if all this was true but felt like in a state of inebriety. Inebriety from the flower power?
Truly looking back at my interactions with her, there was no flirtation, no sexual overtones and no everything that straight men do to attract women. We discuss blogs, books, movies, music and at time scamper on office gossip. Does all this make me and other gay men attractive cand(y)dates?

She is the fifth friend and the second of married women who have openly expressed their attraction for me. Both of them had a not so good marriage. What is with gay men and women in a bad marriage? Why is it these women still get attracted to men after their bad experiences? Do we share the same complains about men? Does misery loves company?

The first time a married colleague approached expressing her feelings for me I was shocked and labeled her a “strumpet”. But after few experiences I could relate to their desperation for good and light hearted men. Over the years I’ve found that we are running the same race; we are chasing the same men, the men who are ruthless, heartless and animal. Am I sounding like Desperate housewives?

It is just not married women who’ve approached even unwed women find me attractive. Am I adonis? Am I “chick magnet”? Am I loaded with cash? I am just an ordinary looking guy, will just normal IQ laced with arrogance and still these women are drawn towards me? Is it just me or is it the flower power of gay men? I have done a lot of activities with my unwed women friends who’ve proposed to me. We’ve watched chick flicks together, we enjoy the similar kind of sitcoms ( SATC, Desp Housewives), we enjoy pastel colors, craft work, enjoy cooking, cleaning iced bitching.

I may have disappointed half a dozen women who’ve proposed to me, but I have never used and abused them. I felt like holding her hand, giving her a warm hug and assuring her of my friendship for life. May be I could confess to her my side of the story and forge a bilateral fag hag alliance. May be I could share with her my heartbreak stories, one night stands, and tales from the treacherous gay world. I was afraid of her reaction and I didn’t want my sexuality to curdle our professional relationship.

I have known a few friends who’ve come out to their women friends and colleagues. And they swear it was the easy and women were more accepting and understanding than their men. Is it because our hormones are not overpowering, drowning and coming across strongly? We don’t come across as those powerful men who go around them like a merry go round and vanish after the ride. All said and done, we are gentle and genteel. BTW, isn’ that flower power?

Sexploration

Atleast most gay men that I know are highly creative, extremely talented, and with a sharp sense of focus to excel, but for these folks relationships are like walking on egg shells. Sounds like Asperger’s syndrome, huh? People with Asperger’s may have superior intelligence and verbal skills, and they often have an obsessive interest in a particular topic. May be “Sex”? But they tend to be self-defeatingly awkward in social situations, and romantic relationships can leave them at sea. This leaves me thinking…Are gay men romantically challenged? Is romantically challenged a neurological disorder? Is it a life about a disability for gay men? Wow!

Under the pretext of friendship they usually end up crossing territories, get entangled in the web of relationship, mangling relationships and finally end up hurting each other and burning bridges beyond repair and salvage. And by the time they hit their 30s there is only fear and cynicism, and there is one friend “loneliness” along with dregs of rejections, insecurity and failed relationships. How many relationships hoops have you passed through? How many bridges of friendships have you burnt? Sounds you like? or many others that you know in our community? If you were given another chance, would you do things differently this time?

Sometimes I wonder why gay men mix sex and friendship. Though it appears like milk and coffee, but in reality it is milk and salt. A 10 year long friendship carefully handpicked and nurtured turned sour when my friend trespassed and sexplored. What does exploration of the body do to friendship? Does it build a sense of commitment and ownership? Why do most friendships see the grave after exploration? Does familiarity breed contempt?

A few months of exploration took them into unchartered territories without any rules of engagement. The relationship reached a point of comfort that his friend started to leave his tooth brush, personal grooming products and under garments at my friends place. My friends had no clue where this relationship was headed. Nothing was planned this way, but now my friend was confronted with a riddle to solve. My friend was ready to graduate this to LTR (a committed relationship with a time stamp that neither party knows when it endsJ). When he asked his friend if they could take this relationship to the next level, there was strong resistance and extended silence. It was clear that he was not ready for any relationship and all these weekend stays was just casual sex for fun and nothing more. Leaving behind toiletries was more of comfort than for anything concrete and committed. Well who would not enjoy any strings attached, and who would turn down friends with benefits?

My friend says things were not same anymore. The emotional bonding, mental chemistry, trust, and comfort all went out window and brought in the bad air of obsession, possessiveness, distrust and complexity. A calm sea turn suddenly turned choppy and frothy. The shortest distance between two friends that was once straight was now mangled and entangled in the web of emotions.

Some explore others mind with their body, while some explore others body with their mind. The mind and body combination seems deadly enough to curdle relationships. Can’t two gay men have a platonic relationship? Can’t they have a friendship without sexploration? Why should they look at each other as objects of enjoyment? Should they have to get physically intimate to sow the seed of friendship?

My friend’s close pal moved back from US to Chennai and my friend wanted me to meet up with him casually. Sometimes I wonder if friends experiment by keeping cotton and fire together. I met the guy at a neutral venue for coffee and the conversation went really well. There was nothing odd, suspicious or salacious. He seemed decent, sorted and knew his boundaries. Over the next week there was a flurry of emails and SMS from him and finally came an invite to visit his place. In the past I have met gay men who don’t want to get to know you and will instantly shut down the chat window they see your picture.

The conversation that started straight and normal soon turned awkward and meaty. The extra long passes and flattering comments of my forearms and triceps made me wiggle in my chair. Now I was wary of his intentions. Was he expecting a “Welcome Home fuck?”

The next was really predictable. Want to take a guess? He wanted to check out if I had a six pack and if I gave him some space he wanted to go below the belt. I was being poked at like the bakra hanging upside in a meat stall. I knew where this engagement was headed and quickly reached for the door. The farm land was ploughed but no seed of friendship was sown. Is prowling and preying a part of the friendship game?

Some reactions are just irreversible and the journey takes you to Bermuda triangle. In the following weeks like the farmers of Vidharba I waited looking at my mobile and mail box. I tried to reach out to him, but I don’t know if he was guilty or hurt, but the friendship never blossomed. Now I was punished for not sailing beyond the boundaries.

In the first case the friendship was lost because of exploration and in the next one the seed of friendship never sprouted because there was no mining below the belt. And often I have heard cases where friendships are born out of exploration and continue to stay pink and gay. Nobody seems to know where and when to explore beyond the boundaries of friendship. What do they want from a relationship? Where to exercise caution? What are the rules of engagement? What are the repercussions of trespassing? Are we unfaithful as friends? Are we romantically challenged? Are we meat eaters or addicts?

Often gay men don’t share great relationship with their fathers, brothers and even sometimes with their straight friends because of their orientation and the only fallback are “friends”. And friends go beyond family, and they are often most trusted companions when it comes to confiding their fears and secrets, sound board when it comes opening their heart and mind and finally an emotional sponge when it comes to comforting the broken heart. And surprisingly 99 out of 100 times gay men are hurt by their own community than straight counterparts.

So next time before you Sexplore think… Is it difficult to be simple and straight? Don’t let lust kill love and friendship.