Coming out

Coming out of this, coming out of that,
Coming out as this, coming out as that,
Coming out as not this and not that,
Coming out even as not quite this or that,
Coming out over and over.
Not quite knowing what you were in
That you came out of
Or came into.
Out isn't quite outright out
Since you seem to always have more
To come out of,
as and into.
We needn't go about this for long,
If we start pulling down the walls.

Bengaluru Pride 2008

Photo Courtesy: http://bengalurupride.googlepages.com/pridepictures

"Why is it 'Pride'?" a sceptical gay friend asked me a few days back, even as we were all busy circulating information about the Pride marches in Bangalore, Delhi and Kolkata. I said - without thinking, without my usual neurosis – "You figure it out for yourself. As for me, I am proud that I manage to live, laugh and love despite all pressures to the contrary." Though I usually find myself disowning all strong remarks I often make, I think I want to hold on to this one now. The fantastic Bengaluru Pride reinforced not only this sense of pride in me, but also my faith in the collective and my desire to breathe easy which is what happens every time I step out despite fear.

For Padma, Srivath and me, who drove down early that morning (29 June 2008) from Chennai to Bangalore, the euphoria began even as we hit the interstate highway. There was happiness inside the car. From then, to landing at Arvind Narrain's place, to the end of the Pride March was a big, rainbow, euphoric blur, and I will try to make poor words capture some of that now.

Bangalore folks were amazing. Let's stay with that statement for a while. They were amazing. They had organized everything, but they made you feel like they were so happy and relieved you had come and now everything will be fine! Airlines hotel is a usual hangout for the Good As You folks, but I do not know if the waiters and other customers are used to seeing men and women walking in and out in tshirts that say things like "God made me Gay." Plenty of laughter and camera-clicking followed as the new arrivals changed into these Pride clothes and tried the rainbow umbrellas and hats. Then, off to National College, Basavanagudi, from where the march would begin.

One corner of the college playgrounds turned into a carnival zone in less than half an hour. More and more people arrived; hugs and laughter ruled for a while. Painting of faces followed. Some people wondered aloud if they should wear the masks, or paint their faces, or just walk as they were. The decisions, I could see, were very important to all of us. Then the TV cameras arrived, with the reporters and cameramen looking with wide-eyed wonder at this psychedelic gathering of not just hijras, kothis, drag queens, sex workers, bisexuals, lesbians and gay men, but also their siblings, friends, and other allies. When the camera men went in circles, photographing and videoing non-stop, it felt like they just wanted to capture as much of it as they could, though I suspected that they did not feel equal to the job. Yes, for some of them we could have been 'freaks' worth a few seconds of satellite time, but I am sure they were a bit staggered by the enormousness of the 'freakishness.'

Then the drummers arrived. And the dancing began. With their superb dancing, the hijras, kothis and drag queens declared the parade open.. When the drumming starts, something primal in me takes over. So, for me, what happened for the next few hours was basically a collective dancing to the destination. Not a bad way to travel, I tell you. There was an exorcising quality to it.

All placards went up. In English and Kannada. Everyone carried something or the other. There were slogans and songs. Whoever of Bangalore was on the roads that day slowed down or stopped altogether to watch this procession. On one hand, it must have looked like a protest march to them because there were placards up in the air and sloganeering voices too, but they must have also been equally struck, and hence a bit confused, by the revelry, the absolute celebration of something. And everyone loves to watch celebrations. If at all the child-like wonder of the onlookers' faces changed to the way too grown-up-like grimness, we did not stay to watch the transformation that day. We kept moving on. That the most spontaneous response to happiness is happiness, testifies to what is natural and what is not.

In a couple of hours, we reached the Puttanna Chetty Town Hall. People sat on the galleried steps leading up to the hall and gave life and colour to the place. Someone stood on the pedestal to the flagpole and held the rainbow flag there. Dancers stopped to catch their breath. Drummers took a couple of reluctant minutes to click their knuckles. Very short speeches happened. Then there was more dancing.

It was with great reluctance that we dispersed. But we knew we had to carry this joy of togetherness and support into our individual lives and make them easier, less lonely, and more hopeful.

Thanks to everyone who had worked to put the Pride events together in Bangalore, Delhi and Kolkata. The specifics would have varied, but something tells me the spirit of them all was the same.

guilty

The sea is beautiful.
If stating the obvious be crime,
I would serve life sentence
for this one same crime,
for saying the same obviousness -
The sea is beautiful
over and over
beautiful now
and now
and now.
Beautiful nows of the beautiful sea.
I plead guilty
over and over.

Not supposed to!!!

A note on the poem "Last Year": the lines are supposed to be indented in very specific ways. Blogger insisted on displaying it this way, and my lack of technical skills did not allow me to figure this out. The poem was not "supposed to" turn out that way! :)

Last Year

In the blue-grey of my recent days,
certain things stand out.
Like, for instance, this clear thought - This
was not how the year
was supposed to go,
"supposed to" being a quicksand phrase notwithstanding --
clarity is what is left
after you ignore the illogical traps.
Coming back to my year --
New Years are better for stock-taking;
there is enormous company.
Birthday eves are not a great idea.
You have to smile a lot the next day.

Nevertheless.

This was not how the year was supposed to go
And I am missing yahoo emoticons here.
Too much has happened
And too much hasn't.
And since I write down my plans
they now look like
compiled jokes of the year.
Some great things have happened.
So, that "supposed to" is not so grievance-laden.
It was just so you know
I plan my year - in some general way but
with some specifics thrown in.
Like if I should study or work
and where;
and how many linen trousers - expensive -
I can buy.
This year, I bought just as many linen trousers
as I planned,
But ended up working when
I had planned to study.
So you see how this thing can go.

I like to feel in control
of something at least.
So I did channel surfing on the TV
so I could gag a newsreader mid-sentence
or choose an ad over the CBI murder probe.
But the TV went grainy on me
with just that gravelly hiss of absence;
"power-cut here," the cable guy said over phone.

Our lives are so interconnected.

Anyway, Happy Birthday to me! (tomorrow)

Footprints

Today, I cracked open the secret
of beach's comfort.
It is in placing and losing
my footprints on a sand ocean
of other footprints.
My worst nightmare had Time swishing
and flicking a magic wand,
clearing the sand of all footprints and
offering me the beginning
of footprint time.
I said a quick prayer
that if it comes to it,
I be calm enough to walk, remembering
that in the million footprints to come,
only Time and I would really know
the meanderings of mine...

Storms Without Warnings

Some storms blow without warnings.
Not even a muffled thunder
or an introductory lightning streak.
They cheat radars and land straight
in the heart
on a day when it is out defenseless.
Memories thunder around
and voices blindingly flash,
and paper-thin shutters of the heart
flutter wildly
and rip in the rising wind.
The storm has to pass;
to bow and not to resist
is the only way out.
If you love cotton candy clouds
and fragrant rain,
Learn also not to hate storms
that blow without warnings.