Love To The Biphobe

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Dear biphobe,


You are everywhere   among the straight, among the non-. And this letter is my attempt at trying to win you over to my side. I won't give you empirical proofs or measurements. Just pure conviction drives me to do this. And love.


You might be over the shock that there exist homosexuals and transsexuals and transgenders and the intersex among you. But it does sound like giving away too much of your cake to think that there actually might be something like bisexuality. Bad news: there is.


What bisexuality means: that the person likes people belonging to both the sexes and is generally partial to one. (Pardon me for binarying the continuum of sex, Others.)

What you have made out a bisexual person to be: an individual who likes to have his/her cake and eat it too. A guy who likes to sleep with a guy secretly and chooses to marry a girl by day so as to avoid public humiliation. Or a girl who likes to sleep with a girl secretly and chooses to marry a  guy by day for the same lame excuse. Excuse me. *ahem*


I am bound to notice that, if you believe in the last paragraph very earnestly, you belong to that holier-than-thou legion which believes that heterosexuals or homosexuals don't sway. Or that they don't check out people outside of their marital/romantic/sexual relationship(s). Of course, in that case, you're that pious individual who tried hard to turn the other way when a hot person walked by while you were talking to your partner. Of course, it only seemed like you knew them from before. Of course, you looked at them not because you thought they were hot . . . you just thought they were someone you knew. Nevuh Mind.


And if you are heterosexual or homosexual, and if you believe the last thing you'd do in life would be to date a bisexual person, fie. You say you can't handle the competition you'd get from people belonging to both, your sex and the other. I say you can't handle your bigotry and judgemental attitude.


And I'm sure you've met a number of pathetic bisexual individuals. I have met as many, if not more, of mean people. And they don't always all come as 'bisexual'.


I thought of writing you a letter after I successfully convinced my mum about the fact that my relationship isn't frail. If you believe in your relationship, then that's strong enough, irrespective of whether 'bisexual' exists or not.

Love,

A bisexual guy's
boyfriend.

Mamma Mia!

Although I agree that mothers do assume a very important position in most children's development, I couldn't help but see sense when a friend voiced her dissent to the general eulogy for mothers to me some months ago. She said we have been brought up in a culture where we've been taught to believe that mothers always do things for the benefit of their offspring. And hence, that has been popular belief for quite long now.

Some mothers may not have been mothers    some out of whim, some because of force.

And hence, this post is NOT my vote of thanks solely to all the mothers of the world. It's my way of thanking everyone who has done what one would want a mother to do. I clarify, I am not speaking of the stereotypical responsibilities with which women have been entrusted for ages. 

Some children do not have mothers. And yet, if they grow up to be responsible, caring, well-balanced individuals, it does mean that they must have some person who holds light in the cup of their palm, a mother-figure who guides them, explicitly or implicitly, to choose a path; or to make the best of what they have; or to not lose faith.

A mother-figure in Social Psychology is a leader of a group, who plays a key role in supporting the group emotionally. 

Our Hindi teacher in school was once speaking to us about poets. She spoke of them as though, and not wrongly so, under two camps    one with the likes of Sant Kabir, and the other with Tulsidas, et al. While Sant Kabir preached that one must find God everywhere (in oneself, too) and not search for Him/Her/It, Tulsidas said there were the Gods and there were humans. Neither, our teacher said, was wrong per se. Sant Kabir tried bringing about a revolution of sorts among people who would resign to blatant fatalism. Tulsidas, meanwhile, was medicine to the Narcissistic overestimation of one's own capabilities.

What do I mean to establish by comparing two mother-figures from the past to all the mother-figures today? Just that, like everyone else, mother-figures are mortal and are susceptible to opinions and biases and mistakes, and that one mustn't lose hope in life just because one hasn't had the right kind of guidance.

To whom does my love go today, then? It belongs to all those individuals who, despite having been flawed individuals, have let their wards, siblings, neighbours or friends choose their ways in the world; who have lent a shoulder to someone who needed desperately to cry; who have been with people through silences and through tempests; and to all who have been snuffed out or have glowed through the uncertainties of being the light in others' lives.

Of course, I also thank my own mother for having been for me through whatever I have been in, but also every individual apart from her who has shared bouquets and borne brickbats    or has inspired me to; to everyone who taught me that the world must run not on the principle of division, but of sharing.

And I thank every mother of the world who dared to give birth in the face of calamity or gloom, having chosen hope over everything else.

And I thank every mother who thought for her child.

What A Stud!

I pierced my ear two days ago. Not ears. Not got my ears pierced. Well, I had had my ears pierced when I was an infant (some painful ritual) and I decided to bank on what was left of the holes. This evening, I went to the jeweller's and got a silver earring.

The thingything. I call it my earring. :D

People at different places have reacted differently to the fact that I have pierced my ears, and more recently, have had the audacity to actually wear something there. Some said I wasn't 'that kind of a roguish boy', while my mum defensively told the jeweller that 'boys' were wearing earrings now that girls weren't. The jeweller tried his best at not letting my mum benefit from any bargain by telling her that I will have hordes of girls vying for me now that I have a stud. *disgustedflatface* My dad asked me who I was obeying by wearing the earring; he asked if it was some kind of a trend. My music teacher (to my joy) suggested I wear something in silver. 




So, why exactly am I wearing an earring? Is it because it's a fad, a trend? No, because if it were, I would have jumped at every available opportunity to get something 'new-and-in'. Does wearing it make me cool? I'd admit to not knowing. I am certainly not wearing it for that reason. So, I'm wearing it just for the heck of it, aren't I? 




To some extent, that would be true. I am wearing it because I want to wear it. I am doing it because it gives me a sense of satisfaction doing what I want to do. And regardless of what others think I should do, I will do what I want to, irrespective of whether or not it conforms with what is expected of me.




Sharvari Aai says I am on my way to become a Non-conformist. I wouldn't know. The only thing I agree on knowing is that the only thing I conform to is my conscience.

Non-Conformism

We wrote letters to each other as a manner of saying goodbye at the end of Junior College. Quite surprisingly, almost everyone I received a letter from wrote that they admired me because I was 'genuine', 'out-of-the-ordinary' and 'not fake'. This raised many questions in my mind. What did they all mean by the same thing? Do I actually have a persona that can be admired? For you see, I was under the impression I was pretty boring to the outside world, because I hardly take much interest in social interaction and activity. In fact, I'm happiest when I'm by myself.

That brought me to the content of their appraisals. One friend said I stick to being myself, no matter what other people think, say or do. It's true: I've never really seen the point of changing for the world, because then you'd just spend more time behaving in a way that is not natural to you. This not only puts a barrier in your journey towards self-actualisation, but it also takes away the joy - the interest - you have in living. This attitude would, of course, make me 'out-of-the-ordinary', since according to my observations, not many people think like this, and neither do they want to. Being in their own closet space brings them security, and listening to the opposition of the world towards the impulses of their Id (the few rational ones), brings them conflict. People who emulate other people - may they be the 'popular' ones, or the ones belonging to a counterculture (which, even though put down as non-conformist, is really conforming to the fixed, albeit different, ideas of a group) - feel accepted by society.

Non-conformists, on the other hand, feel no such need. Even if they might be wearing the 'current' fashion trends, they do so because they like them, and not because everyone else does - or does not. Anti-conformists do exactly the opposite of what is the norm as a way of differentiating themselves from the crowd. Non-conformists usually don't know they are non-conformists, as had happened to poor me until a while ago.

This blog celebrates non-conformism. Weirdness is appreciated, welcomed and rewarded here. The moral of the story is: Be yourself, and don't follow the crowd. They most often don't know where they're going. Come on! Could you see where you were headed to if the street you were walking on was full of people? Crane your neck and look, and if you don't like where you're going, don't hesitate to turn and walk the other way.