Pink pages are often not so pink, they are red!

Chapter 2
Sourendra Kumar Das

Pain is sometimes non-transferable and often unbearable, and I realized that when I am held back in the bed for a week, courtesy Mumbai’s weather and increasing number of cases of malaria. The cry of my friend rings in my ears, desperately dying to vent out the tale of his sore childhood memories.

I loll in my bed to continue telling the unfinished story of my friend who was born on April 16, not Mr. Chaplin, but our Harish. Eleven years of sexual abuse by his uncle and hard days in college had made him strong, ripen with experiences.

Photograph by: Judhajit Bagchi

Everyday was appallingly painful for my friend who was in his late teens then. He resorted to the last hope in college that came as Professor Lakhbir Kaur who made him the Convener of Literary Events in College. She was interested in a student who would handle cultural events and Harish was perfect for that role. That was the time when his qualities came out like magma out of a dormant volcano. From someone who was extremely shy, he became an extroverted guy.

My friend started participating in debate and other cultural events, also won a prize for beautiful portrayal of love scenes from the history in a drama competition. Then some other students looked up to him and he too started mingling with other students. At home, things changed as soon as Jimmy moved in. Well, Jimmy was his new found love, a baby German Shepherd.

My friend was always scared of dogs, but Jimmy changed his entire viewpoint. Sometimes, days were so difficult in college and he used to be humiliated by my classmates for his alternative sexuality. The pain was so unbearable that he would come home and put his head in Jimmy’s paws and cry for endless hours in the night. He became a huge animal lover from then onwards, and started speaking for animals. He learnt from Jimmy to love them who deserve, and to the evil bark and protest.

One day in college a classmate said, “Aabe dekh gur aa gaya…aaj kiska mu mai lega..?” To that, my friend shouted back at him and said, “So what? Maine to mu mai liya hai. Tere jaisa to har kisi ka nehi leta firta hu…!”

He shouted back first time when he first was 18 years, winning the first battle towards self-defence. Thirteen years later, he is proud that he could take that step in 80s India.

However, the scene at home was so unfamiliar when he revealed the story of his eleven years of sexual abuse by his uncle to his parents. His mother said, “I have seen in TV that this thing can only happen to girls! For God’s sake you are my male child…!”

And his father said, “If you are telling the truth why you were silent for last eleven years?”

My friend was shocked and helpless, as due to societal reason his parents wavered to take any major step against the uncle.

It was after several talks and discussions, they finally accepted the truth and now his mother supports him. The only thing he told his mother was, “If your child is hinting you something, being a mother you should be able to understand that.”

My friend’s uncle would beat him up during his childhood for not getting an erection; hence he gradually became asexual and disliked sex. His true love in life left him forever after four years, and he was left all alone. Jimmy left him at the age of 4 years when Harish was 21 years. During those days, it was fashionable to date girls, so he dated one. He would hold hands in gardens, but discuss boys! After couple of such dates, she told him, “It is not love but friendship.”

After college days were over, he realized his sexual attraction towards boys as train journeys were frequent. Thanks to the crowded trains of Mumbai and the secret sports that goes in the crowded compartments. Like any other growing adult, he too would have orgasms, but that he would hate himself when those gory memories of his uncle molesting him would come back. Even though he would get an erection, he would be mentally very upset.

A dear friend called Upen (named changed on request), opened a whole new world to Harish by inviting him to a Gay Bombay (GB) screening at a city college in Bandra, Mumbai. He found out people like him, from his own community who live proudly with their gay identity. However, seeing so many gay guys committed in a relationship made him feel like an outskirt. There was another LGBTI (Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender Intersex) organization that he visited for a clinical test; however the same warmth of GB was overlooked there. Thanks to Upen who played a great influence and the GB group became more like a nice family.

In one of the several trips to Singapore, my friend purposely went to a brothel to have sex with a girl. But alas! He had to close his eyes and fantasize a guy to come close to his orgasm! The first thing he did was to phone his mother and tell where he was and she questioned, “Ok, so you are attracted to girls too, good…” He replied, “No Mom, I am Gay!” She told her to walk out of the place.

Here back in India, this topic was not discussed for long. But one day Harish was so upset for another turbulent day that he walked all the way from Marine Drive to his home in Sion. He felt so disturbed that he did not want to eat. His mother questioned the reason to which he questioned back, “Any man can have sex with a woman. But if you had a daughter would you get her married to a gay man for experiment?”

His mother had tears in eyes and hugged Harish. The second battle in life was won.