Friday – 15 Ramazan 1428 – 06 Asvina 1929 – 28 September 2007
Though it is not how we view things. But, we are the decisions that we make. Over a period of time, we become what we have done. There are times when desicions are made knowing the path and lead us towards our goal as we understand it. And then there are times when, oblivious to and maybe even apathetic to the direction we are moving in, we take decisions that alter our lives and us. The worst is when of our own free will and an absolute lack of coercion we make a decision that will lead us farther away from our goal and our life as we want it.
I have had to take such a decision recently. I opted for the third choice.
My engagement recently was a result of such a decision. For the past six years I have known that I could never lead the life of my choice. No one forced me. It was just how things are. My father would have considered it a complete loss of face to have an only son who is gay. My mother would have felt that I have been led astray and will ruin my life. Two people I care a lot about would have had the rest of their lives devastated. And I could not have accepted it because it would haunt me that I am the reason for their pain. So, the only way for me to go was to die. Not physically. Just that Jalal is becoming a separate person from me.
My blog is a place where I am who I really am. But, in my life, I am a completely different person. I used to joke about having multiple personality disorder. But, in a way it is true. The stigma attached to homosexuality does lead to people leading multiple lives. Usually they are two different lives. For me there is an online life through this blog and a community of people I interact with, and then there is the physical life of work and home and people I know through that. At an earlier point in time Jalal and myself had a lot in common. The difference between the two lives was not so acute. But, with the engagement, and with the expectations, and with the prying eyes of my family. I feel as if Jalal and myself are becoming two different people.
This sounds like a confession at one end and like a letter on the other. I have no idea why I am blogging this. Maybe for the catharsis. Maybe to just get my thoughts together. I do not know. That is how things are. Human beings are such fragile things, the light of consciousness and the ability to analyse our own feelings and thoughts, such complexity in such a small space.
Over the past one month I have told my fiance that I smoke, that I do take alcohol on a rather irregular basis, once a month or so, and that I do take drugs occasionally, once a quarter or so. Coming from a conservative background and endorsing that point of view as well, she took some time to accept it. But she did not accept it. Yesterday she told me to tell her father about all this, since she felt that he should know about these habits of mine.
I cant, I just cant. It is very very difficult. There are complications that I cannot reveal here or they will lift the veil on who I am. I cant tell him. And she wont accept me if I dont. So, the question was, I can distance myself from alcohol and drugs forever. But I wont tell her father. I think she will accept it. I will do this to handle this situation that could get very very bad otherwise.
But, with so many compromises. She is a Muslim, in am an Agnostic, in our situation I have to act like a Muslim. She has a strong faith in her religion, I have a strong faith in mine, I can not show it. She can never accept her husband to drink alcohol, I do, and I have to leave it. She can never accept her husband to do drugs, I do, and I have to leave it. God I am crying. This is so fucking childish. Everything and every manner in which I deviate from the moderate Pakistani social setup I am doomed. I have a personality built on some things, and they are all doomed. My being like this is not acceptable in either society at large or in my immediate family. I do not want to comform for my sake, but for the sake of other people. I have to.
I think that with this, I am in a way trying to kill Jalal in my physical reality. I dont know if I will be successful. I can do it in the short term. But, what I fear is time. Countless days, melting into months, melting into years, melthing in decades. Will I be able to keep Jalal dead in the decades to come. If I can, then yes, I have compromised and conformed and changed myself. But, if I can not, then what? What of the assurance I am to give my fiance tomorrow? If I can not do it, then I should not commit. But I dont want to kill Jalal. I like him. And for fucks sake I am crying again. I hate this.
I would love for there to be a situation, where I am what I am. I am accepted for what I am. And I can live like what I am. I know, it is a land of fantasy. I know that neither society nor my family will accept me as that. I know it can not happen. I know I will have to be what they want me to be. But, I do not want that. Life seems very very unfair, but then again it is life, it is as it is. Neither fair, nor unfair. I am what I am, and I am not supposed to be. I know this is acceptable in many countries outside Pakistan. But the thought of my parents here with my lifestyle gnawing at the core of their existence. The complete extrangement that I will have to undergo from my family. I cant do that. I want two things at the same time which can just not be in the possession of the same person.
I feel as if I am living in a world where I am not the object of desire. By family, by society, by anyone. The object of desire is a figure in an imagination who is exactly upto the expectations that people have set for me. It is not I but my impression in their conscience that they love and adore. I feel so useless. What is life but a series of injuries, to our egos, to our bodies, to our souls. Cest la Vie.
Tomorrow I live again, a new day. But Jalal dies outside this electronic world of weblogs, online communities, emails and messaging programs.
انّا للہ و انّا الیہی رجیعون
I will be in mourning. It is a very big loss. Words are so weak. Thoughts so poignant. Emotions so strong.