Blossom

A sordid flower,

blossoms in the clouds,

so grey and drab,

sudden white, the sun passes by.

The flower soft and yellow,

blooms with the new spring,

it's petals showering you and me,

with love,so deranged yet bitter sweet.

The pretty, happy flower,

grows with passion, a gigantic heart,

it has,to reach out, to guide,

it's fellows in all things, spring and kind.

Autumn comes, the flower fades,

the yellow shades,dying away,

it still pursues love,

with longing and sweet smelling peace.

Down NGV Lane

[Before note : This is one of the mad experiments of two insanely crazy people (M & N) in one pathetically deranged unchartered work space... Please excuse...]

Once upon a time,we walked,

Along a pretty familiar lane,

cheerful,we talked, and rocked

(Please note, the time was but today’s same.)

Traversing down the road,

We saw a lady’s boat,

running across,the four of us,

‘Cos she was about to be toast!

We rose in spirit,we rose with passion,

We ran across, our hearts in traction,

we tore apart,feline attraction,

saving her from bloody ‘male chauvinistic’ lactation!

Full blown action,harsh reactions,

‘Full on macha!’ and crashed contraptions,

‘what ra macha’,she cried in emotive infraction

‘You tho full major’ like a simple subtraction.

The cabbie,ignited,

The goondas, united!

we were thus violated,

(not unlike the first time we dated!)

Are you her brother,a BPO wallah asked,

(that idiot pseudo-sunshine arse!)

needing to get by, furious and fast,

(we did make sure, that it was his last…)

“Do you speak kannada, or not?

If not, get lost!, or in hell you rot!

we thought, we’d smoke some pot,

Didn’t work out, ‘cos the pots were too hot!

The pigs, they came at last,

In Khakhi, hats, and lots of faux pas.

they sat,their arses, thoroughly foxed,

Their lingual tilts, across the pots tossed.

The swine,about to be pork,

Had to give in to us neutral folks fork.

We dug in deep,chopped,they ran like dorks,

And towards the pigsty, we flocked, us storks.

“Only one person talks! the rest is ’shut up’.”

‘What yyah’,we have the liberty to add up!

Anyway, the couch-glued hog asks all “whats up!”

Namaskara saar, its rumpes being felt up…

Fin rumpe,the ‘male’ masochist said…

But the complaints added up, and the action shook his bed!

he was whipped,and his rumpe turned red,

“Aiyyo saar, thumba sorry agithe!” he bled.

Women’s rights,on the sunny side of life,

Thanks to yon constitution, the pigs couldn’t take his jive,

the samba and the tango,continued in tide,

Yes ssireee bob, he’s gonna have his life’s ride!

Tears extinct,pride restored,

To us the damsel sighed and smiled…

the two goondas,looking left and right,

We wondered, and we did, take to flight!

In gratitude, with love, we sang,

we marched on with service in hand,

Providence dear, (while bells behind rang)

You, we all do deeply thank.

Sigh…back to ‘civilization’,we aligned,

The loved (unmaimed) queer blessings in mind,

we walked on with smiles alive,

With hearts so strong, and heads held high… ;)

- N & M, in a crazy moment (hour), at 9:57PM, on the 22nd July 2009, after a powerful heart (change maker), hope, blessing, and strife.

[After note: Thank you for reading! Sorry for the internal jokes!]

The Calling.

A wet Saturday morning, rain pouring down hard, a gloomy sky empty with no birds around; we met and shook hands in greeting. This was not the first time, and I always looked at him with respect and care. We waited for the rest and then we began a journey into the humble, sweet terrain of a beautiful village. It’s not just a village, but a home, a place of quiet and cogitation.Hence; we enter the welcoming premise of love, of belonging and of pride. A fresh cup of steaming tea is given, and it is received with utmost delight. There is nothing like it, the sound of cows mooing, monkeys scattering about, and the trees whispering lovely secrets to each other. Heavenly!

We are summoned, into another place of learning, of mischief, of innocent laughter and of love. The room is filled with endless banter, the little man cubs, scurrying around, filling the void between us. The women offer us freshly baked delicacies, the children offer us their love, and endless.It was surreal.

Lunch awaits us, in our hall of fame. He and I did not have our lunch with us, nor did the other lovely people, the guardians of our beliefs, our commitment and our longing for change. We motor across to a neighboring village for lunch, which was simple yet extravagant. The very simplicity of sitting in a tiny boutique and eating food full of humility and humbleness makes you want to stay. The cool wind blowing lightly in your face while you eat, light discourse and sharing, it all makes it an experience everlasting.

Put put put, we move on, he in front and I at the back, and our guardians behind us. We ride and we ride, and I land on the brown sandy ground, he on the tar. Two dogs crossed our path, and that was destiny calling us. He in a deep stupour, vomit spewed everywhere, began to cry. I cannot even imagine the pain, the fear, the dread. He was back on track, but slipping out ever so often. I turned him, his vomit drained out. Our guardian, an angel from the depths of humanity reached us, and it felt so relieving to have some in charge. She howled the moment she saw him, back in his state, away from the world. A question arose. Is he gone? That is all that came.

We rushed him, the auto rickshaw ran out of gas, but they replaced it, we rushed him. An injection was given, his wounds cleaned with sticky yellow wound cleaner, and no stretcher to shift him to the bed. But we managed. He was lapsing in and out, in and out, out and in. The guardian angel and I just sat silently, willing him to come out of his daze, to talk, to laugh. Maybe, we were asking for too much. He had to be transported to the realms of urban medicine, and so he was, in a rickety ambulance, with me pressing the siren button, all the way through. I was mute throughout, the driver cursing everyone on the street; we drove past traffic signals, narrowly avoiding another catastrophe. The siren went on and on and on. The journey ended, with him vomiting as if a latch was released in his stomach. It was a bad sign and I knew it, and so did my most passionate friend. He was again examined, and then finally a decision was made to move him once again, because the scanner had wanted a break, so here we go again, another amazingly rickety ambulance, this time with no lights or siren, he finally was taken care of. We cried for him, in anguish and in fear, but hope still lay aground.

A green gown, a shaved head, monitors beeping near his feet; he was taken in for scans after scans after scans. A clot, internal bleeding, affecting his normal functioning, well he was wheeled in again, this time for mechanical procedures. They cut him open, and that’s all.

2.00am, Sunday morning, he is wheeled out, and he could talk, sighs of relief all around. Intensive care is all what he needed and they made sure he got it. My beloved friend and I went off home, withered and dry. He made it, my fears were negated, he fought it, and he won. I love him for that.

A mighty August morning,

The larks singing,

To the heavens in praise,

They swoop down on mankind, with love.

A day of happiness,

An hour of sunshine,

It brings pride, it heralds joy,

I hack the wood, with all my might.

A woodcutter,

In the labyrinths of prejudice,

I lift my hands in worship,

I praise my god, for my daily bread.

Chop, chop, chop, and chop,

My offspring look on with tender love,

I bring them gruel, I bring them warmth,

I am still human, though strife etches on.

A chilly night of July,

black and white cows,

chewing cud,

in peace,bound to the ground.

A night of dark blue,

white patches,etching their way,

towards nothingness,

in solitude I write,I dream.

Away from the world,

for a minute or two,

lost with passion,startling,

I fell,endless,the night haunted.

My lovely friend,

stands nearby in hope,

lifts his hands,towards the heavens,

awaiting a lost signal,blind but with soul.

A cow nearby,

expends all what-

it gained,it huffs,

with relief and joy.

Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mother

The labyrinth of existence,

joined with fear,

the crusaders came,

with mighty shields and spears,

to cut, stab, bruise and kill.

They came, again and again,

screaming, uncouth, brash,

the deserted child, trembling,

speared in the chest,whiplash-

in the neck, blinding pain,

she succumbed,alone,in silence.

The red eyed whore, bent down,

embraced the child, mad with grief

she ran to her den, where she-

springs upon lust driven men,

every night, a dozen times,

they groan, they curse, in hurt and joy.

She bends, just like the other night,

where a monster took her from behind,

the child laid on her crumpled bed,

she weeps,howls,she moans in pain.

The child sleeps on,an everlasting stupor,

the hollow chested young woman,grieving ,

she entrusts her to the burial man,

who came in for the night.

I,an Islander,

encircled, by the ocean,

litte fish,swimming and hopping,

they all came to me,with love.

I,a fisherman, sea dweller,

with my poor wooden rod,

praying for a fish or two,

to take home.

The fish sing to me,

about freedom and love,

I whoop with joy, as my rod bends,

Ah!I've got one.

The lovely grey fish,

screams silently, in prayer,

'Have mercy' it says,

while I smash it's head,bare.

Queer Pride

One Two Three Four Open up the closet door,

Five Six Seven Eight Don’t assume your kids are straight.

 

 The Queer pride march held on the 28th of June 2009, was synonymous of the above jingle. It was a free spirited fight against the section 377 of the Indian penal code, which criminalizes homosexuality in India. It was a gay event filled with colour, music, and dance and love. There was a carnival atmosphere present in the entire march and an air of cheerful protest was also part of the general ambience.

 

  Rainbow colored flags and banners, top hats, umberellas and lovely T-shirts with meaningful quotes; it was such a beautiful march. Faces painted with dainty hearts to lovely flowers, the whole march had so much of meaning attached to it. It was a day where the "queer" community in Bangalore came out of their closets and actually portrayed to the rest of the world, the equality between them and the so called ' straight' community. They were so graceful and free flowing in every aspect. The word "love" was emphasized on a great deal. My friend and I went for the march mainly because he wanted to take pictures and I just wanted to see what it is all about. We were very much carried away the instant we reached the National College grounds in Basavanagudi.We were just blown away with the spirit that encircled each one of us. It was a mind blowing, to say the least.

 

  The ground was filled with reporters from various news channels, homosexuals, lesbians, bi-sexuals, hijra’s, kothi’s, doubledekkers and a great many from the 'straight' community. This was very encouraging. It felt heartening to know that many youngsters in Bangalore actually do support the rights of the queer community and they really were in union with the community, showing no sense of disgust or fear. There were also plenty of people from different NGO’s like Sangama etc. The sex workers union of Bangalore also attended the pride march, which was again commendable, considering the amount of exploitation and ridicule they are put through.

                  

   The harmless insanity, the growing vibrancy and the sense of humanity all coexisted to create a fabulous march of protest as well as celebration. It was a celebration of their lives, of their courage and of love. Hugs and kisses were endless and not one sign of violence or threat. I felt so at peace after a very long time in Bangalore. There was so much of genuine love and warmth floating in the air and it was exhilarating to breathe in all of that. It was awe striking to see the hijra’s dancing to everlasting beats. They are so graceful in their movements, so soft spoken, and so beautiful. I danced with one transsexual at the end of the march near the town hall and it was an experience that brought about so much of pride in me, so much of self confidence and finally it brought about change. They were dressed in lovely shades of pink, blue and red, adding so much more color than there already was. I was awe struck from the moment I entered in their midst. I met so many people on the way and none of them hesitated to offer their friendship and to offer most importantly their love, which always is infinite.

 

My T-shirt read, “I’d be gay for you”. I felt so proud of the fact that I was really supporting them and being with them on this very important day.

Now to look at Section 377 and what it holds for the gay community, it makes sex dirty, carnal and sometimes gruesome. The section was laid down in the Indian penal code by Lord Macaulay in 1860 and it is very much rooted in Victorian sensibility.

 

It reads,

 

“Whoever voluntarily has carnal intercourse against the order of nature with any man, woman or animal shall be punished with imprisonment for life or with imprisonment of either description of term which may extend to ten years, and shall also be liable to a fine”.

 

  The section criminalizing homosexuality denies them the rights to marriage, adopting children, pensions, housing, and yes, their fundamental rights.

 

“Labels are for filing, labels are for clothing. Labels are not for people.

 

 Martina Navratilova, US tennis player.

 

 Once a queer is labeled, his or her opportunities for employment become very bleak and some even say it is a contagious disease and that the legalization would homosexuality and sodomy. A homosexual becomes a homosexual by choice, and it is most often genetics that play a role here. One does not become a gay just because another gay touched him or her. All this hue and cry is a load of hogwash.

 

 Coming to the lives of transsexuals, the police often use the section to harass and abuse them even though they do not come under it. They are often arrested, humiliated and sometimes molested or even raped. The section is only for homosexuals. It does not state anything about transsexuals or other sexual minorities. So why ill treat them? Shouldn’t they be protected, given rights, and respected?

 

 To dwell on the history of queer pride, it all began on the night of June 28, 1969, when fully armed squads of the New York Police Department [NYPD] raided the Stonewall inn, an obscure pub in Greenwich Village in New York that was a regular hang out spot for gays. They questioned and humiliated many of the gays in the pub and thereafter ‘queer pride’ began to spread through towns, through regions, to countries and finally to the world.

 

 Talk about a revolution man! Section 377, is no more for consenting homosexual relationships. It is still a crime for the under aged though. Lets not give up, let’s keep fighting, supporting the community, encouraging them every step of the way, after all they deserve the freedom.