Homo Erectus

Bewitching looks and a gentle manner, not to mention a sharp intellect, may have led many a lass to suspectmy sexual orientation as somewhat deviant. It is now time to come out, I say, to confess that I'm asheterosexual as they go, and for reasons I cannot fathom, somewhat astounded by it.

Heterosexual men, in general, are characterized by violence as a means to deal with sexual insecurity. Thisviolence is meted out towards women, subordinates at work, and, as is being increasingly seen in this country,against gay men and women.

Violence, as the learned suggest, has its roots in fear. This insecurity, when it comes to any man'sinadequacy in dealing with women, may have something to do with having a smaller penis or stamina; with gaymen it must be the fear of anal penetration, and with lesbians the fear of outright rejection.

Cause notwithstanding, the fear runs so deep, that I had no idea what homosexuality meant until I wastwenty years old. In a boys' public school, homosexuality was something vague that bullies threatened theweaker students with, just like the uncharted trigonometry that lay between a woman's legs.

I was first introduced to the word 'homo' when I entered the Indian Institute Of Technology at Kharagpur, acampus that had ten males for every female. Naturally, seniors would flirt with junior boys who carried a softvisage. Beautiful young men were called 'juice', and the same term was used to describe the better lookinggirls. The seniors were trying to assert their masculine superiority by making homo-erotic suggestions, and Ifound that very unsettling.

However, actual gay activity was not often seen, discounting the holding of hands and shoulders that is socommonplace in the Indian male. In the local bar, the Waldorf, male friends would sometimes exchange smokefrom each other's mouth by a kiss, again displaying lack of inhibition and masculinity through a homosexualgesture.

There was one student in my hostel who everybody said was a 'homo'. Everything he did, even a friendlyhello, was seen as a sexual innuendo of some kind. That he was heavily built, had a shaved head, and was froma scheduled caste also added to the collective fear he held us under.

After college ended, I remember the car ride home from Jaipur railway station with my father. He saw a cross hangingfrom my neck, which had a pocket knife inscribed 'protect god'. Being a god-fearing Hindu, he said it made melook like a spoilt brat, to which I replied arrogantly, "For all you know, Dad, I could be gay. It's justa harmless cross. I wear it for style!" My father was aghast and silent for the rest of the ride.

It was in Bombay that I was exposed to gay culture as it exists in urban India. Like many lonely newcomersto Bombay, I would sit at Cafe Mondegar, waiting to make random friends, preferably female, which never reallyhappened. One day I saw this handsome man, who gave me a friendly smile and called me over to his table. Hisname was Imam Siddiqui, he was a casting director in Bollywood, and I sat and listened to his amazing voice.He chatted and laughed like some Miss Universe; he was vivacious, and he was a man. If he was heterosexual, Idoubt if there would have been one woman left unturned.

Imam took me to Voodoo, a Colaba pub that gays frequent. "Don't worry," he told me, since I musthave looked hesitant, "at the most they'll pinch your butt." After a couple of drinks, I foundmyself dancing with a gorgeous, tall woman. Completely flattered by her attention, I went up to Imam and toldhim how I had just danced with the most beautiful woman I had ever danced with. Imam was confused, he pointedtowards her and said, "Him?" Then he started rolling with laughter.

It was also a time when I had no place to stay, unless some random friend allowed me to sleep on the couch. Imam was also generous that way. Whenever I slept over, I would watch his bed against the window, like aprincess asleep with stars above her.

The male form had always been ugly for me, and probably the reason why I was heterosexual, but Imam was awalking contradiction of that. One night, when his French boyfriend was visiting and had fallen sick, he askedme to find another place for the night. Subsequently, I drifted away and rarely heard from him. Today, we arestrangers again. Later I only saw him in the society pages, all dressed up as a queen.

However, every time I felt lonely, I went back to Voodoo. All I wanted in the whole wide world was to bewanted, even if it was by a man. I sat there nursing my drinks and talking to strangers, being hit upon oncein a while, and feeling grand when I turned them down. "I'm straight," I used to say, "I justlike gay bars." Once I walked out with some guy hoping to score a free drink, until I realized that I'dbeen picked up. When I voiced my explanation, he politely dropped me on Marine Drive and went back to Voodoo.I felt sorry for having wasted his time.

Later I was introduced to a circle of friends who were gay activists, writers, artists, film-makers and ingeneral seemed to possess the sort of intellect and objective outlook that I am attracted by. Often, at Vikram(a writer) and Alok's (lawyer) parties I would find myself the only straight guy in the room, with bemused gaymen and lesbians all around. Doc is a great cook and his guests spend a lot of time around the food. I browsedthe bookshelves, spied on conversations and lovers, and talked to people about everything except being gay,wary that they must get a lot of "So, what does it feel like..?"

As we became better friends, I began to appreciate who they really were as people. Alok comes from the samecommunity in Rajasthan as I do, and this was something I was always shy about. Marwaris are abusiness-oriented community, whose very moniker means 'tightwad'. All my life until that point I wanted to berid of that tag, and replace it with just about anything else (thus the cross). No one in my family orancestry had ever read a literary book, listened intently to music, or showed any intellectual traits otherthan pure commerce. That included my parents, who were both medical practitioners.

It was Alok who urged me to write about my roots because no one was doing that, because the stories ofthose people remain untold in literature.

It was one of these parties at Vikram's place when I bumped into a straight couple - Daniel Pearl and hiswife, standing in the kitchen. Unfortunately, Daniel was to later become the victim of a militant group inPakistan. I have also learnt that if you meet someone at a party who says, "But some of my best friendsare gay!", you should know you are talking to a closet homophobe.

One of my female friends keeps saying she is tired of men hitting on her, asking her out, all the time,when what she really needs is male friends. Now she is trying to hang out in lesbian parties trying to seewhat she can find there.

In all my experience, I have found gays more worthy of life and love, more polite, giving and caring thanmost straight males. They represent to me the amalgam of the better traits existing in men and women, compiledinto one complete individual.

I am a heterosexual, but I find myself drawn towards intelligent men, as often as I'm drawn towardsattractive women. Maybe, I too have gay traits. Perhaps we are all varying combinations of male and femaletraits in different proportions.

As far as anal penetration goes, most Indian men would put their penis in a hole in the nearest wall.Truckers do it to their male assistants, the police do it to petty criminals, and the jailed prisoners do itto each other.

The collective sexuality of the world, if you really look at it objectively, is gay. Then why are wepunishing honest homosexuals who have come out to express their identity as a human being in a civilizedsociety? Is it simply the disgust of anal penetration (sodomy) that outlines this fear, and is that a fairenough basis for law? Disgust is a human emotion generated by various stimuli, and going by that logic,nose-picking and crotch-scratching should be outlawed too, putting most policemen and journalists out ofbusiness.

At this karaoke bar near Marine Drive, on seeing two of my lady friends dance together, and all of uscheering them, the girl sitting next to me said, "What is it with two women dancing?" Quite simply,I replied, "It's beauty with beauty, not beauty with the beast." She gave me a ten on ten and joinedthe dancers.

This song by Doors keeps playing in my head these days -

Rohit Gupta is a Bombay-based writer.