Ms, you just made a big mistake!

In happy news, French teacher whom I bitched about so much has turned over a new leaf and is actually quite fun. We are all (teacher included) playing Secret Santa in class. And after bunking around 13 classes, I finally went to class today to get an education. And I did. Such a one!

Today a girl in my class just casually said about another classmate, 'I'm sure he's gay.'
So I said, 'How do you know that?'
So she says, 'He's very weird.' And added, 'He's also thin, so you can make out.'

A couple of weeks back, another classmate had said just as casually, 'He's so gay. I don't like him.' Again I was aghast and partly amused. I said, 'How do you know that?' She said, 'I just get the feeling. He's so tall and huge. I'm sure he's gay.'

The thing is these girls didn't really mean anything by it. It's just learned behaviour.

Bangalore has been busy turning rainbow for the past ten thousand weeks. All sorts of creative, cultural events have been organized to show the world that 'We are here, we are queer; just deal with it.'

But only people who anyway believe sexuality to be an intensely personal choice get that and attend these events. And that's so self-defeating because they love their L or G or B or T friends anyway.

Interactions like the ones with my classmates have taught me very useful things about how a 'normal' man/woman can spot a gay.

A gay maan is tall and thin.
A gay maan is dumpy and wears sweaters and has a stubble.
A gay maan always acts weird.
A gay maan wears a Superman t-shirt but it sticks to his body.
A gay maan laughs.
A gay maan drinks his coffee and tea with his friends.
A gay maan always, always has a favourite colour.
A gay maan secretly likes women but is too scared to do anything about it so he starts to tell the world that he loves men instead.
A gay maan has clean nails.
A gay maan has no wrist bone.
A gay maan might have a boyfriend!
A gay maan needs to buy groceries.
A gay maan has blood that is a different colour. Yes, really.
A gay maan likes music.
A gay maan watches plays.
A gay maan might read or write a book.
A gay maan eats at Koshys (restaurant in Bangalore) on weekends.
A gay maan watches movies!
A gay maan dances!
A gay maan uses the internet!
A gay maan watches TV!
A gay maan is good-looking!

Now for the gay womans:

A gay womans has short hair.
A gay womans has stubby nails.
A gay womans is always sad because she couldn't find a man and now she has to love women.
A gay womans smokes.

A gay womans is tall and thin.

A gay womans is dumpy and wears sweaters and has facial hair.

A gay womans always acts weird.

A gay womans needs to buy groceries.

A gay womans has blood that is a different colour. Yes, really. 

A gay womans likes music.

A gay womans watches plays.

A gay womans might read or write a book.

A gay womans eats at Koshys (restaurant in Bangalore) on weekends.

A gay womans watches movies! 

A gay womans watches TV!

A gay womans dances!

A gay womans uses the internet!

A gay womans has tattoos and what not!

Now a bisexual man/woman does all the above - but twice.

As for the transexual or transgendered maans/womans:
They like saris.
They clap their hands.
They have moustaches.
They wear make-up.
They beg.
They steal.
They lie.
They sell their bodies and corrupt peoples.

Some commonalities:
They are all cursed.
They all like Cher, Scissor Sisters, burlesque art/movies, Lady Gaga.
They are all promiscuous.
They all cry.
They all bleed.
They all always have AIDS and other STDs.
And they all die. Only not fast enough for the 'normal' man/woman whose world they corrupt so irrevocably.

And now that we all know how not to be a gay, let's watch this.



Related gay posts:
How very dare you!

Queer as folk!


P. S. It is as MG says, A gay maan is always big.

How very dare you!

Acknowledgements
Dirkanna and Kuttinaai for introducing me to The Catherine Tate Show, Gopix for helping with the fight and the understanding, and Absolutely Fabulous because it is so superb!

Disclaimer
Parts of this post are reproduced from a discussion I was part of on Facebook. I could have mentioned names and designations as well but I decided to be nice. If you still have a problem with this, especially considering it’s my boudoir and you are an outsider, then all I will say is, ‘kiss my arse.’ And do pardon my exquisite French. Merci beucoup.



I recently got involved in a discussion on Plato’s Symposium that eventually turned out to be a rabid debate on saving face, sexuality and gender politics in that order.

It started when a girl I know quoted Plato on Facebook. Plato said “People were hermaphrodites until God split them in two, and now all the halves wander the world over seeking one another. Love is the longing for the half of ourselves we have lost.” Now that’s the rough translation.

And if you remember I’ve already given my take on this entire thing after watching Hedwig and the Angry Inch. People are always trying to con us into believing that unless we have regular, socially sanctioned shags we are missing something – which I can tell you is bullshit. Everyone likes to shag someone but if it doesn’t really happen, it’s not a tragedy. Especially when the world has evolved enough to make toys for us to play with no matter what our age.

So my response to her status message was to recommend Hedwig and the Angry Inch and that seemed the end of that.

Only it wasn’t.

In a historic judgment on July 2, 2009 (just last year) the Delhi High Court legalised homosexuality in India. 

Section 377, a 140 year-old law dating from the British Raj era, says homosexuality and "unnatural sex" is a criminal act. Drafted in 1860, Section 377 is also referred to as 'Anti-Sodomy Law' and punishes any un-natural sex between man, woman, and animal. The amendment in Section 377 will decriminalise gay sex, said the Delhi HC.

This means that people who are lesbians, gays, bi, trans-gendered/transsexual can have an identity in the society, a chance at normalcy, and can expect to be able to marry those they love. They can also now expect their workplace to be free of bias and discrimination. Considering it is India we are talking about, they can now expect to have a workplace.

Gay rights activists across India hailed the judgment and it has become de rigueur for the cognoscenti and the intelligentsia to prove that they really are in support of the LGBT community. And truth be told, most really don’t judge based on one’s sexuality.

But then again, scratch the surface of the many ‘tolerant people’ and you will find confusion, fear and hatred so blatant, it’s hard to ignore. This hatred and derision is usually potently and particularly directed at the transsexual and the trans-gendered.

Like these responses the post received:
So a man + woman = the original hermaphrodite again. Makes sense. Very ugh. But Plato says what he says.
Shiva and Shakti form this world. Else there is no existence.
And there is the problem. Hermaphrodites in the human world cannot multiply.
A gay man + a gay man = gaymaphrodite
Eww! If you meet and mate with yourself, wouldn't that be like incest or something?
Mating with oneself is perfectly okay only if you were a plant or a slug.
But we're human!! Aren't there enough inbred idiots around!
What did one hermaphrodite half tell the other hermaphrodite half? Gotta split now!
Oh, and didja know mules are not a biological species? Why? Because they can't reproduce.

When I saw all this, I was thoroughly confused. A reading seemed to suggest that these people believed that to be normal you had to mate with someone who was your opposite so there would be duality. And that your mating must necessarily produce progeny else, how would you validate your existence? So I put forth my questions to the group in a genuine bid to understand where they were coming from: I have a few questions and I am trying to understand - really I am - are you saying it is unnatural to be gay, lesbian, bi, or trans (gendered/sexual)? So if anyone is LGB or T then does it make them a lesser human being? Why hermaphrodite = ugh? Also, are you saying that the only validity for one's existence is procreation? Because that is how this entire discussion including the many one-liners read to me. Please explain, I am really interested. Thank you.

This pissed them off.

I was told to butt out and not take them seriously.

So I also kidded around and since I am somewhat of a bitch said, ‘Why? Are you inbred idiots?’

And that’s when it became ugly and I was asked if I were a gaymophrodite; then they suggested I take my activism elsewhere; then they explained to me that they never said anything about hermaphrodites or procreation.

I politely thanked them for their response and asked them to scroll the post to understand where I got the whole procreation/hermaphrodite ugh bit. That’s when I was finally yelled at by the various members.

Here’s a short summary of the yelling I got:

How dare you! How very dare you! How very very dare you! Are you insinuating I am talking about LGBT and procreation? I don't judge people for their bedroom habits or gender identities. Hermaphrodites as Plato defined is an old concept - that term is not used for humans now. Well Lady Gaga too but that's tabloids for you. First off, I have not mentioned lesbianism/gays/bisexuals or whatever anywhere in this thread, wasn't even thinking about it. How very very dare you! We are more than tolerant of these things. We all are. It's an accepted part of the world. How very dare you throw a hissy fit over imagined slights to lesbians, gays, bisexuals and transsexuals? It seems to be a very touchy issue with you for some reason. Take your case and go home. Sorry if it seemed gibberish to you but we are friends and we have evolved our own language based on our close friendship and we can call each other anything we want but we still won’t call someone an inbred idiot! And we were definitely not talking about LGBTs anywhere. We never would talk about them! How very dare you accuse us of saying rude things of those people! You need to have the ability to read internet posts properly, which is equally important. See how bereft of love people can be who can't read properly? Do I HAVE to participate in parades and foursomes to be considered tolerant? No, thank you. This whole thread is the testament of my tolerance. How very very dare you! Now good night and god bless no matter who and what you share your life and bed with.

What really could I do? I just borrowed their own lines and said:
Befitting conclusion to this entire debate (which was actually supposed to be mere clarification) - 'See how bereft of love people can be who can't read properly?' I rest my case.

And signed off in true AbFab style with: Cheers, darlings!

But I really believe that in a world bereft of British humour, they are still fighting the bad fight with me somewhere on some other wall.

And so now my own sexuality is in question! How absolutely fabulous, darlings!

I can now legitimately wear my rainbow salwar with pride and walk around everywhere like anything!

Hot like Mexico, rejoice!

Invariably, I like it when someone gets the prudes to start pontificating.

In my previous place of work, one of the initiatives I was involved with included organising events and ensuring that at least 10,000 of the 12,000 odd work-force attended any after-work event we'd painstakingly organised to make it successful. While we did this with extensive in-house branding, since I was on the branding and communication team, I liked leaving no stone unturned and actually sent out mails to the entire Development Center and of course to my own Unit. 

Once we had an A Capella performance by some very talented and hot girls from some esteemed university in the US of A. We'd all seen their pictures and read great reviews as well. So when I sent out the mail to my Unit most of whom were very familiar with me as a person, I said something light and informal about not missing the performance by the hot girls from the esteemed University. After I sent the mail, I promptly went about getting things organised for the show. 

Two hours later when I returned, my inbox was flooded. I'd unwittingly started a 'sexist' and 'woman as object' debate! Not only that, the gossip channels had spread it across the company! After having been warned by the Unit head (who masquerades as a cool dude) about inappropriate sexist language, I had to write a ridiculous mail. 

I had to talk about how I was a woman too and so I respect my kind, please, peoples. I just meant it in the most flattering way possible, peoples. But you have to see them - they are indeed very talented. Since I couldn't add that I was non-lesbian, I could not say that I really did not mean to objectify woman. I had to unfortunately contend with - why would I, being woman myself, objectify them? 

Which is really a pathetic argument. 

Because personally if someone were to call me hot, I'd lap it up. I mean, wouldn't you? Seriously? 

And since I was to be the MC that day, everyone waited to see what would happen next. I swear, we had the biggest crowd ever that day! 

The event started. The girls were beautiful. And since ours was a campus that is simply beyond lovely, the entire performance was a treat. They sang like angels or beautiful birds in springtime. And the weather was lovely and romantic. And just when it was all mellow and musical, they also did some peppy numbers that got everyone all excited. 

And so when the performance ended, I went on stage, poker-faced and said, "So come on, ladies and gentlemen, don't you think these girls are supremely hot?" 

Over ten thousand voices piped up - "Yes!" 

"And don't you think they are amazingly talented?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

"Do you want the hot girls to do one last number?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, then tell them they are hot and talented and that you want one more song!"

And over thousands of voices said exactly that. 

And I, I smiled very sweetly at my lovely audience. And took a gracious bow. 

I would never have become a fan of Lady Gaga were it not for my men. And when the men like something that much, they insist on playing it/talking about it all the time and so it was something I quite got used to. Though I still maintain that the beats are so Ace of Base and the look so Madonna during her pre-mom days. All that, till I saw the video Alejandro.





And then I was like this is something. 

It reminded me of my own 'hot' incident. (Incidentally, my farewell mailer was very tongue-in-cheek and instructed most of the company to 'look hot'). This video with its gorgeous make-up is why I am finally a fan of Lady Gaga who has got the prudes secretly all wet in their underwear. And I love how all that frustrated wetness is spewing forth at the mouth as scandal. The response to the video from outside the gay community is fun to read. There they are all these geezers acting shocked and outraged while being turned on and titillated by something that is done rather well - all things considered.

I mean, she could have had effeminate, metro-sexual men dance totally naked using a cross as some sort of a pole. Ever thought of that? 

And I love how she is walking home with adulation and awards. And really, you have to love anyone who can do that. 

And so I'm super-thrilled that the world has a Lady Gaga. After the era of the 70s rock stars we'd lost the scandal part in the music industry which is so essential for it to become cult. 

So thank you for the music, the Lady is here!

But I really fell in love when she said this: 
“Alejandro is about the 'purity of my friendships with my gay friends'. And how I’ve been unable to find that with a straight man in my life. It’s a celebration and an admiration of gay love – it confesses my envy of the courage and bravery they require to be together. In the video I’m pining for the love of my gay friends – but they just don’t want me.”

My own life fortunately, so I've been reassured, has a happier ending with all my men and women loving and needing me and wanting me; so I just think that as a conclusion to this post, I ought to tell them how much I admire them and respect them and, of course, envy them their bodies, clothes and shoes! 

You know that I love you boy/girl
Hot like Mexico, rejoice!

Thank you, sweety darlings. 

P.S. The purity of our relationships turns me on as well! :)

Vow Wow!

I went to a big, fat Indian wedding. I usually desist this sort of an outing but my choices were limited. Also my parents promised I could dress anyway I wanted to and not heap myself with gold jewellery.

It was organised in a super colossal marriage hall off the Outer Ring Road in Bangalore. It had a huge playground sort of area right outside the main hall. It was perfect setting for the type of wedding that was organised - a multi-coloured fair.

There were fat men dressed in costumes to enthrall and enchant children and grown-ups alike (a whole post waiting to be written on that alone); children played on a tarpaulin slide, a merry-go-round, or just caught colourful balloons by the zillion and cheered happily.

There were also food stalls - chaat, ice-cream, fruit-juices, maghai paan, cotton-candy, popcorn and besides all that a welcome drink and dry fruits.

And then there was the decoration. Reams of satin, shiny cloth in various hues posed coyly beside fountains of water and potted plants. There were large, resplendent brown leather sofas with blue and white trimmings fit for a queen - albeit one with no taste.

And there were flowers everywhere. In all possible colours of the rainbow, of all possible types of flora. All arranged in as ornate a fashion as possible.

It was heavy, cloying, and full of everything rich and vulgarly ostentatious.
Vulgar is my word. I am a minimalist unless I'm doing the whole rainbow parade, a drag queen ensemble, or am simply undecided about which colour to wear, but yes, vulgar is my word.

Sitting down for dinner, I saw a few gate-crashers - poor and looking for a quick meal. One man saved his sweets (there were around 5 different kinds of very expensively made sweets) for last. He unwittingly dropped the last one on the floor. Chagrined, he waited till everyone had finished with their meals and then rose to leave. But as he left, he picked a few left-over sweets off other people's used plates.

It saddened me. And it's not because of the poor man. After all one doesn't sympathise with someone when one is so often wearing the same shoes. I might be working in what is called an MNC but I know there are days when I have less than Rs. 2 in my wallet. So I am as poor as he is. May be poorer. And may be it was his happy day - he got a free meal that was full of sinful calories and rich to the core. And surely a lot of people made an honest livelihood through the wedding.

But I can't help but feel it's too much of a song and dance for just two people to have legitimate, socially approved sex, share genes and multiply the number of their relatives.

Why do we need that level of socialising now? Earlier there was a great divide, lives were almost insular, people tended to stick to their immediate families and fields and areas of businesses. Marriages were the only occasions one had to meet and greet and mate with people one otherwise never saw.

But now?

I know many people are rich and they believe that one's marriage is the greatest achievement of one's life. And so it has to be celebrated in a fashion that will arouse pique, jealousy, and absolute pride of the clan.

But a big fat Indian wedding today? I don't want to be prudish or moralistic and say something trite like when there are so many poor people and starving, orphaned children everywhere.

But a big fat Indian wedding in my head makes sense only at a time when there was a world without the internet, when there were no soaps on TV and the radio didn't play funky music, and pubs did not have super-saver offers on beer and screen World Cup football matches on big flat LCDs!

I finally came outside only to see the mad rush for free, unlimited ice-cream, as adults and children alike went around eating and wasting cups of different flavoured ice-cream by the dozen.

There I was, surrounded by flowers and everything bustling and cheerful and rich, yet I was depressed beyond measure.

A purrmoonition

I have a feeling that life is not as it should be. I was born human and being human was supposed to be the best thing ever on this planet - that's what all the Hindu scriptures say. But I feel I've been short-changed somewhere and that someone out there is laughing all the way to the celestial bank. 

Something needs to change. My Cassandra sense says it probably won't. I'm not a cat or a cow. That's why.  

I am so desperately in need of change (that is the good sort - so hold that blitzkrieg, forces above) that I went ahead and revamped my blog. So if you've come in to the boudoir for the first time then you are okay else you might just be tempted to cry for some relief from all the purple. 

I don't care. I've decided to paint my room purple because I've figured that if loving the colour purple from the time I was born (slight aberration: when I was 7 I fell in love with yellow - thankfully that coldly played out) and ending up working in the purple company has still not cured me of the purple passion then it's for life. Only I can't seem to find a nice purple picture. I think I want one. 

But I really mostly want change. A friend of mine wanted change so badly, he just went and quit his job. I cannot do that. Besides, I love my job. It's the one thing that's keeping me sane. 

Though with this sea-less weather in Bangalore, I really cannot do much. I can't even go to work. I can type only with my index fingers (often just my left) and so life goes on. 

Returning from the doctor today I couldn't help wishing I were a cow or a cat or something like that. 

When cows or cats get sick, they don't need to work from home. They can just rest till they are better. If they are really sick then can be put to sleep. And there are no debates about euthanasia and what not. 

Cows or cats are not affected by the weather. They don't need saltwater-clogged-taps weather or hair-curling humidity. They are happy in the sunshine and the rain and the snow and everything.

Cows or cats never need to exercise. Cows or cats are not fat. They just are. 

No one compares a cow to another cow.

They are never imperfect. They just are. 

They are expected to do nothing more than cat things or cow things.  

And cats and cows always have change. A cat gets nine lives; a cow probably gets a new shady place to chew its cud. And here, I haven't even been able to buy shades!

A cat or a cow. It's probably an easy life. 

But may be turning into an animal is not the sort of change I want. 

I want what we all want - to be happy, healthy, hungry, alive, free, and loved. And yes, a little good sex couldn't hurt any. May be then even my joints will be jolted into good behaviour. 

Hell, this purple has pleased me so much that although I have a premonition none of these wants will see fruition anytime soon, I am still purring away.