Archive for family

Prejudicial Weekend

Monday – 22 Ziqaad 1428 – 12 Agrahayana 1929 – 03 December 2007 

It is a truth well established that all respectable and able human beings will delve into the deepest depths of bigotry and personal prejudices on any available opportunity. I must add, I too adore bigotry, prejudices and general rage against other humans. If not that then at least it makes life and boring weekends a lot more worthwhile than usual. My most favourite is an Urdu term that is (تعصب) which would translate to something like very strong and deeprooted bigotry.

This weekend like so many others before it came with the usual fear of having to spend inordinately long periods of time without any major human company as I have been used to. Working in an office which is forever at the brink of mass chaos and supports a life faster than that for which humans have developed over eons I can not spend time alone. Something has to be there to punctuate each and every one of my waking moments. Unfortunately weekends present a problem. So, I prefer to spend time doing too many things and end up having weekends that are more stressful than working weekdays. Good.

So, the weekend was going fine on Saturday. Little did I know that it would get turned into a hell fest with a big ugly woman beating me with leather tongs. Remember I am gay. Being beated by an ugly woman is not my idea of hot fiery love.

I went to a family function, and one of my relatives forgets the way to the place. In a moment of divine retribution they call me for directions. The first thing I am told is that they have just taken a left on a major landmark. What the fuck is that supposed to mean. There are four fucking roads, and there is a left on every fucking one of them. And then they tell me stuff like, “we dont know which road we are on, but we are passing house no 73/1”. All the nerves and veins in my brain popped. I could hear them. Some people present said that they felt that a scream has emanated from the depths of the earth and destroyed the eternal aura worn by our planet, the mother earth. I hate idiots. And telling people how to navigate in a city when they have no fucking idea how to do it can lead one to poke their fingers into their nostrils and hope that their brain will get punctured and they will die immediately and not face the conversation any more.

As if that wasnt enough, I got late for my friend NA’s wedding. Idiot. He had gotten a facial or something and hence was glowing like a light bulb. Idiot. I mean, it is ok to do it a bit, but there are limits. If you are glowing brightly enough to blind your guests and other creatures like bats and dolphins then please get yourself checked up. And to think that I had a crush on him till Friday.

Then on Sunday, we all had to go for a Dance Practice / Dholki at a friend’s. I am such a bad dancer. Actually this time it was actually acknowledged by everyone that I am a bad dancer. I feel much better now that everyone knows this. Yes, I know, even my shrink agrees that I have issues that he can not help me with and I need to work on then, and if my English teacher were here she would definitely have an issue with the length and structure of this sentence, but basically fuck off and bite me and call me Judy while you spank me red and blue.

And to top it all off, I have learnt why I hate Canada. It is where fucking MUH (a friend of mine) is from. So, that is what is actually wrong with Canada. Eh!

Coming Out

Sunday – 29 Shawwal 1428 – 20 Kartika 1929 – 11 November 2007 

So, I finally came out to my father. Late last night we were having a long discussion on my engagement and my relationship with my fiance, which by the way are not going all that well. During the discussion, I felt a sudden breakdown of things. I could feel my though processes breaking down. I had a complete unability to focus or think or pay any attention to what my father was saying. All that was left of the voices in my head were two voices contradictory and conflicting. One of restraint urging me to keep quiet about my homosexuality otherwise I would end up hurting my father. The other of action urging me to let my relationship with my father be based on the truth of circumstances and not the deceitful layers of submission.

And while this argument was going on in my head, I just blurted out, abruptly, and with no build up to my father that I was gay. The sudden declartion scared me as it shocked my father. I had never until now, in my whole life, done something before the voices in my head had had a chance to come to a decision. This was a first, and even that on such a delicate matter.

All that said, amidst two hours of awkward silences and the strangest of discussions I think my father has come to accept the fact that I am indeed gay. I think I have fallen in his eyes. I could sense clearly from his tone and his words that he feels that his bloodlines and his future generations have floundered upon dangerous territories. I just dont know how to rectify that. During the discussion I told him that I will get married and try to lead a normal life. But, I don’t really know what he feels or thinks right now. I guess only time will tell.

I still want to be just like him when I grow up.

Melancholia

Tuesday – 17 Shawwal 1428 – 08 Kartika 1929 – 30 October 2007

To start off with, basically, wow. Has been long.

At first I thought that I was having my periods and that had thrown me completely out of my emotional balance. But then I remembered that men dont have periods. They basically don’t have any excuses for suddenly becoming emotionally insane. Except the usual female complaint of being “just pigs”. So I will use that. I am just a pig. And mind you, Pigs can have half hour long orgasms. As it can be seen I use a situation where I find my life completely miserable and a mere shadow of an exitence on the surface of a rather wavy pond and turn it into a source of immense envy in the hearts of others. Yes, half hour long. Not me, Pigs.

So, as some of you might see from my previous emails, I have been extremely depressed because of my state of being gay in Pakistan. No acceptance within my family or society. No chance of leading a gay life. No chance of being happy by not leading a gay life. Do not believe in cheating on my wife or fiance. Do not believe in sleeping with men if my family does not know or approve. More contradictions in one sentence than I am used to hear from some of the more imbecilic of my colleagues when I have to stop them in each sentence and tell them that they are just not making any fucking sense.

So, I have seen the whole of “3rd Rock from the Sun” in the past two weeks.  I just love the show, and by that I mean, I love it to a level considered taboo in most societies. And, I am reading Hardy – A pair of blue eyes. I absolutely adore Hardy. His works capture my life in ways that are haunting and relieving at the same time. After this I will read Tess. I loved Jude and the Mayor of Casterbridge.

And, in the ending I think I would like to say that most probably my depression is coming to an end. Or maybe not. Too early to tell. But I just hope that if my depression does continue I do not want to spend sixteen straight hours in front of the television just to not let my mind wander off to any other ideas.

Oh, and yes, if there are any eligible Lesbian women out there looking for gay guys to marry. Send me a fucking email so we can finalize the deal woman!

Depression

Sunday – 24 Ramazan 1428 – 15 Asvina 1929 – 07 October 2007

Humans are such intersting creatures. So simple at first sight, short-thin-petite-brownhair-beautifuleyes-crazysideburns, tall-fat-fair-jolly-sexychin, muscular-macho-brighteyes-beautifulshoes-interestingfashionsense. But so complicated when you jump into them. Courageous, cautious, self-conscious, complacent, arrogant, confident, depressive. And so and so forth. So many adjectives to define something that is basically not definable, playing with words to conceive an iota of knowledge about something so profound and so complex.

The past two weeks have not been a good time for me. But, it is the company of others that has kept me strong. For whatever reason. There have been so many issues that I have had to deal with lately. My engagement and the prospects of a life not at all my own but dictated by others. Maybe even not dictated, but dictated by my knowledge of the expectations of others. Expectations that I know are held so dear that I would not want to hurt them. But sacrificing my own expectations for others. No idea how that will turn out, there are too many apprehensions.

One of the reasons why I started this weblog was to reach out, a kind of catharsis that I get when I put pen to paper to write what I feel and then to read it and feel better about things. I was a regular blogger during my fourth year of college. But it was scary for the strength of emotions used. So I deleted that. Even after college I have been blogging regularly. Most of my older posts have been unbelievably strong and do scare me. But I have resolved not to delete my past, I can not escape it. And I do not want to forget it any more. I want to know who I was and who I will be.

I have a lot of friends who I can share my life with. In the physical world. And over time I have gained a lot of friends in this world of the internet as well. Very different kind of a relationship, but it does exist.

I have been having a severe feeling of loss over the past couple of days. Of not having done the things in life that I should have. Basically relates to relationships and sexual relationships with men. Something I knew would hurt my family if they find out. So, I have led a life of a reasonable amount of abstinence. But now it is haunting me. I dont want to make the same mistake. Of doing something for someone and feeling sorry about it. So I read my weblog for the past few years. I admit that there is more crap in there than there are stars or grains of sand. Gave me a bit of a consolation that not having the life that I wanted did not necessarily destroy my life back then.

One year of blissful submission to my family and my society is a reasonable period to cover up for the one month a year period of doubt, angst and depression that I have. Or is it? One thing about life is that you can never really answer these things. If only there were answers and if only I could know them. But that is not the case.

The silver lining on a rather large cloud is that depression wearies one off and ends itself as soon as the novelty of the emotion wears off. Hopefully.

Crash

Sunday – 17 Ramazan 1428 – 08 Asvina 1929 – 30 September 2007

It is as if my whole life has come crashing down around me. The same question that I ask myself and dread for the past ten years is in front of me again. Can I please lead my own life without fatally hurting everyone around me. Can I please be gay and my family accept me for it and let me live like that. And my sisters’ marriages are not sabotaged and their married lives are not destroyed.  And my parents position of respect and honour in our society is not destroyed due to my leading a gay life.

It is not as if I dont know the answer. I know the answer. No. You can not be gay without destroying the lives of your parents and sisters. But, stupid humans, stupid, hopeful, crazy emotional humans. I just want there to be a different answer.

How futile.

Death

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.

Accident

Friday – 08 Ramazan 1428 – 30 Bhadra 1929 – 21 September 2007

So today turned out to be a very active day. As opposed to how I like my days.  I always want a bit of sanity and I also want that when I get home I can relax after work. That is the least that someone can expect after they bust their ass at work from 9 am to 9 pm on a daily basis six days a week with Sundays off. But then again, it seems that everyone in my family has a different idea of fun and being active.

To start off with, the cook. Ok, he moves so fast, and works in such a frazzled way that I get scared of him. And I mean scared. His hands move at such a fast pace that I feel as if there are phobias growing inside of me. And, today, due to this very reason, this uncontrollable haste, he dropped a frying pan full of bubbling oil on his foot. His foot gets burned and he has to be taken to the hospital.

We go to the South City hospital. A good hospital otherwise. But, we have an injured/burned guy sitting in the waiting area and we are being told that since this hospital does not have an Emergency Room they cannot attend to the patient. Now, what in fuck’s name is the use of having a fucking hospital in the middle of the fucking city if a patient is dying on the extremely  expensive leather chairs in the waiting lounge because the fucking building says hospital and the guy who was in an accident thinks he might save his fucking life by going to this moron dungeon. If you dont have a fucking place where morons when they are about to die come in to get treated do not fucking put up a hospital sign on your front fucking door. Stupid capitalist heartless asshole fucks. Hippocrates is dead.

So, we went to another hospital. By this time my cook is an agony. It was Ziauddin hospital, which was actually a hospital. He was taken for treatment. So, I had to get all the medicine and all so they could bind the wound and all. I get the stuff and then ask the guy to charge it on my credit card. I am told that they do not take credit card payments for less than 200 rupees.  So, I told him that I dont have cash so we cannot treat the guy. There was an argument, I even told him to charge me 200 rupees and just gimme the stuff I wanted, the rest was for the procedure, he didnt do that either. I had to buy things for 200 rupees. But then, he told me that I can always pay later and there is no need for me to keep arguing that I must pay him by my Credit Card right then. Moron, he made it seem as if I was arguing with him when it was him arguing with me. I mean, fuck! I hate manipulative people.

In the middle of this, I had to go pick up my sister. My two other sisters and my mother called me twice each to tell me this within a 10 minute period. I was supposed to pick her up at 8. But they told me 7:30, it was 7:15. So, I rushed out of the hospital to pick her up. I got two phone calls within the next 10 minutes. I got very rushed and frazzled. I had an accident. There was a dog running on the road, the guy in front of my screeched to a stop and I hit him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. And in the next 10 minutes on my way to pick up my sister I got two other phone calls reminding me to pick her up. When I got there she sat in the car to leave and was so pissed. I asked her why and she said she had gotten 10 calls from everyone telling her that I will pick her up so she should hurry up. This is 7:35. Dinner had been served 2 mins ago and the party was over at 8. She was so angry, and so was I. There were 2 more phone calls to confirm if I had picked her up. I shashed my mobile on the car’s dashboard. It is still working thankfully. But, I fucking hate stupid fucking women. I think men should be allowed to beat up women if they are so fucking stupid that they dont fucking realize that you are not supposed to fucking call people more than 2 fucking times in an hour.

Things were ok till then. Despite dealing with moronic hospital staff, evil dispensary guys and fucking irrtating family members I was in a good mood. Then I had a fight with my fiance. Since this section involves two people, I dont know if this is right or this is just my biased opinion. Since my fiance lives in a different city, I think she wants us to talk on the phone for at least 2 hours on a daily basis. Impossible for me due to work, but I manage. Today we had some guests over. So, I just SMSd her that I wont be able to talk to her and she should go to sleep. Then she sent messages like, I wanna talk to you for 2 mins and stuff. And I was so so so irritated. I mean, she can call me, she doesnt have to play games. Khair, all in all, we had a huge fight. And now I hate women more.

So, moral of the story is, you cant change people. If people want to relax after work. Let them. If they are doing something already. Do not fucking call them ten fucking times within an hour to do the same thing. And lastly, please dont fucking expect your fiance to call you for two hours on a daily basis. He is a guy and we just dont fucking do that. Otherwise you can just become a lesbian and share your fucking feelings all day long. If you want a fucking penis then dont go around looking for a pussy. Good God. I need to shut up.

PS – Sorry guys, too much venom, dont mean most of it, use my blog for catharsis. Dont think about this again. I dont want more cases of psychosis due to my blog ;)