Confession homosexuality Lesbianism Gay poetry poems

What I Saw Her Doing In The Room Grossed Me Out For Days Until She Forced Me To Ask Her The Question

( words)
*For representational purpose only.

The 18-year-old me used to be utterly embarrassed on being asked: Are you a lesbian? I used to look down, frown, and say a loud and clear NO.

Till today, I have no clue why people used to, or still occasionally do, ask me 'that' question. Is it the way I dress? Or maybe, I have a lot of gay and lesbian friends. Not that it bothers me today the way it did then.

Ten summers ago, that day when I was sitting alone reading in that girls’ common room, she came in with a warm sunny smile. I smiled too, it was not that warm but a hesitant one; I just wanted to be polite. I knew her secret and was sort of grossed out because the other day I had seen her kissing her friend, who was a girl, and tried not to freak out. 

To break that awkward ice, that cute girl began to talk. But that 18-year-old me was so uncomfortable that I decided to leave the room and began to walk. She held my hand and asked: What's the matter? I said I saw her kissing that friend of hers in that empty class and that incident is being shared around like a hushed, shushed banter. 

She asked me 'that' question and I frowned with anger. She smiled, requested me to sit beside, and lend her my ear. 

'What's wrong if I kissed a girl?' she asked. 

'But you are a girl! How can you be so cheap?' I barked.

'How can you be so cheap to think that falling in love with or being attracted to the same gender is wrong? What harm have I done to anyone? I have only loved her with all my heart. By calling it cheap you have insulted my love. How does any gender or living or dead thing matter at all when you are in love?' she asked.

These questions pierced through me like a set loose arrow hits its target, those beautiful almond eyes which showed me my shallowness, I swear I will never forget.

Her eyes welled up but they had an inquiring gaze. I felt embarrassed and sad for wiping that vibrant smile off her face. I apologised genuinely and asked her to narrate to me her story. That 19-year-old revealed her scars to me, details of which were very gory. 

Molested by her uncle as a child, rejected by her parents for being 'abnormal', she then stayed as a tenant with her aunt who at least treated her as 'normal'. 

I truly felt bad for her and glad at the same time, for that hour-long chat with her broadened the narrow passages of my mind. I realised how wrong I was in judging someone so quickly and I swore to myself that I shall never frown again for being asked 'that' question and diss anyone so briskly. 

Now, ten summers later other questions bother me: Why is that we still wear these 'samaaj-kya-kahega' glasses in certain blurry situations to see? Why is judging someone so easy and accepting someone so hard? No matter which century we enter, will LGBT activists or for that matter feminists or humanists, ever let down their guard?

Why is homosexuality a crime in India and heterosexuality isn't? At least I had her to brighten a few dark corners of my mind, apparently the Supreme Court didn't. 

... Apparently, the Supreme Court didn't. 

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