Archive for conformity


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.

Clashing Sounds

Sunday – 09 Rajab 1424 – 16 Bhadra 1925 – 07 September 2003  

i was told that i am a freak 5 mins ago. by my mom. i was listening to my music. usually the problem is that childrean listen to NEW forms of music and parents dont like that. here. i listen to classical forms of music and my mom calls it a cacophony of clamourous sounds. go figure.

well i listen to classical and semi classical south asian music. the raaga. the ghazal. the thumri. the geet. now that the background is done i will proceed.

currently everyone at my home laughs at my music and calls me dead man. lots of eye rolling and messaging about it all the time. that is not it. except for everyone in my house. everyone i know in person laughs at it as well. it seems that my music is so strange that everyone laughs at it. my musical choice has been the topic of many a joke and comment even places where i wasnt present.

well this is ovbviously depressing. i havent come across any one after my university who is nearly my age by about 20 years and shares my musical taste. well i dont know what to say. their loss. a man screaming your loss in the face of 100 % of the other people his age and beloging to his country.

what the FUCK! is wrong with me. why the FUCK do i listen to classical or semi classical music. when people laugh at it and say who died why are you listening to this. and people have actually started laughing when i told them what i listen to. i mean come on. i think given a choice the social stigma will be more for me due to what i listen than due even to my sexual orientation.

oh he is gay … too bad … but he is a nice person.

WHAT !!! he is 22 and he listens to ghazals and raagas … KEEP AWAY FROM HIM !!! i dont want you mixing with people like that.

i am terribly depressed. i seem to be fond of something that can only be seen as an affliction. it is so horrible and terrifying that people shy away from it. it is so ridiculously funny that people laugh alond at its mention. what the FUCK!!!

i am very very depressed. i cant be gay. now i cant listen to my music. why the hell cant i get even a small break. what the FUCK!!! music DAMNIT it is only MUSIC !!!


Saturday – 03 Jamadi us Sani 1424 – 11 Sravana 1925 – 02 August 2003 

when i started this blog i wanted to do one thing. share my thoughts emotions feelings and actions with others. without any let or hindrance. completely free as what i am. telling them when i feel down. telling them when i feel elated. telling them everything uncensored. telling them i was a gay guy and that is why i think differently.

well today i noticed one thing. when i started this blog. i didnt think about activism as such. but now i am thinking about it. actually i am thinking a lot about my position in society. my right. my duties. that is why i am adding some links to gay sites and resources and portals pertaining to pakistanis and muslims who are gay. just to show you what is going on with me.

i am a man.

i am a muslim.

i am a pakistani.

i am gay.

i am proud of being gay.

anyone who have a problem with that can lead his own life the way they want and not meddle in my affairs. i am beginning to ask for my rights. but of course with a pseudonym. pakistan is not ready yet. i am not either.

i am proud of being a muslim.

i am proud of being a pakistani.

i am proud of being gay.

anyone who has religious moral ethical social or cultural scruples should know that i also have my thoughts. i also have my prejudices. but i never force mine on others. others should do the same. live and let live. the only way to a healthy society where majority opinions are not crammed down the throats of minorities.

this it my declaration of independence.

i shall never be ashamed of being gay.

i shall hold my head high and not be ashamed of the truth.

i shall accept being a muslim and being gay.

i am gay !

I Am Gay !



Friday – 18 Jamadi ul Awwal 1424 – 28 Asadh 1925 – 19 July 2003

OH MY GOD! it actually is such hard manual labour. when i read makkie writing about cleaning the house and getting exhausted i didnt know why. now i know. it is HARD LABOUR!. well here in pakistan people live with their families. i am an only son. so i am the only young man in the house who do all the hard labour. so i am doing it. i am taking a half hour break. maybe just to write this post.

well pakistan is a society where we have much stronger gender roles than america. actually very defined gender roles. men do not do the house work. men do not cook or clean. that is womens work. but wait. this isnt over. men dont get off that easily. in return for that. we are the men. we do all the manual labour. the MANual labour. we move furniture. anything that weak women cant do. it is different. well it is hard to expain how things in pakistan are. maybe with time ill clear it out somewhat.

and oh yes i didnt tell you this. the only thing functioning is this house is the computer coz i fixed it first thing. there is no water here. so i cant go to the bathroom. no water to drink so i cant drink. no food to eat so i am damned hungry. no nothing to sit on so i am sore. i am hungry thirsty sore tired bitchy and DAMNED HORNY! well that is coz someone sent me some porno pics in my mail. and unfortuntely i saw em. and unfortunately they were hot. and i didnt get time to take care of myself. so i am horny as well. i hate people who send unsolicited porn and create problems for all of us.

i will be alone in the house at night. all alone. sleeping on a bedsheet on the floor. well it has been about few months since i was all alone in a house. and i also know that i have this strange irrational fear of the dark. god knows how the night will turn out.

i dont intend to bum all of you out talking about my non existent love life. but i really wish i had someone to spend the night with. and yes i am not talking about sex. i am talking about someone i can catch a movie with. have dinner with. talk to. laugh with. stuff. i dont know. it sux like this. but whatever. i will get up tomorrow and start moving the furniture all day. i am hoping we get everthing fixed tomorrow. then we will get some workers to get everything fixed and checked. then we will hope fully move in about 3-4 days from now.

wow. i always end up writing long long posts. so bye. ill write later.


Monday – 06 Jamadi ul Awwal 1424 – 16 Asadh 1925 – 07 July 2003

well life is hard to live. i know i am very feminine generally. i just saw a video with me in it. and WHOA. things are bad. i dont know why i didnt understand this when i was being made fun off all my life. maybe there are things that you dont see. for example when you first hear your voice recorded. you ask. who the hell is that. and then you realize. that isnt me. then you are told by everyone else listening to the tape that that is exactly how you sound. hmmm. well maybe that is what happened on the video.

it isnt easy being so effeminate in pakistan. there is this whole concept of men and masculinity and all. very very hard to cope with it. well like i said i am shocked from yesterdays video. well personally living all my life in pakistan i personally am not easy with the fact that i am this feminine. to be honest. it seems like i am a freak. god. and i have major problems with it. these are things that i cannot share with anyone at all. but since i am on the net there is impersonality given to all of you reading this. maybe that is why i can write all this.

i went out with a couple of friends last night. the only thing i could do was keep quiet. try not to talk. try not to move. just try to stifle all those things that i saw in the video with horror. my voice. the way i talk. the way i move. the way i gesticulte. basically everything. it is hard trying to be someone you are not. well i am gay and i should be used to it. since i have to act as if i like women all my life. but this is different. very different. i have to take care of things consciously. i am used to acting straight due to my 22 years of practice. by the way i am 22, and single, and available, and looking.