Things can go downhill when you are not in the right place with the right people and at the right time.

A few years back an 18-year-old kid completed his schooling and even topped in the science stream. The world seemed so colourful, vibrant and triumphant.

But nothing in this transient world is permanent. Not even the best time of my life as I am gay.

And I am clear about my sexuality. It happened when I was a 5-year-old and was tricked into gay stuff by a slightly older guy. As a child, the curiosity had enthralled me. That incident probably made me think about things. And here I am, a gay man.

But instead of thinking about the cause, I am happy being one. I have been this all my life and cannot change it now!

However, things are not easy when you are gay in a country like India where being one is a taboo. Being born and brought up in North India in an orthodox family adds to the difficulty.

Most gay people live in the closet or choose to be behind the curtains for most of their lives. I am no exception.

Do I fear for myself? Yes.

Even before my board result was out, I did excellently in my entrance exams and managed to get into the top fashion college in the country. I was living in the boy’s hostel where I was sharing my room with a chain smoker and an alcohol addict.

Things were very different in this college and especially for a gay guy from a small town.

The seniors rag you. Yes, it still happens! And I was scared. I’d heard the things the seniors make you do, from putting bottles up you’re a** to getting spanked and much more.

The people there considered me less of a man. Unfortunately, every gay guy is considered that. Every!

During one such 'interactive' session with the seniors, I was sitting in a classroom. The teachers were present too, giving speeches etc. I was seated in a corner and next to me was that a*****e.

He started touching me, first on my lap, then he forcefully held my hand, in a grip that was strong enough to hurt me when I resisted.

He kept touching my lap even after I repeatedly shoved his hand away. I really did. But only to have his hand touch me again, this time touching my genitals. Everyone around was too engrossed in the event to notice what was happening.

I kept resisting but it happened again and again. I was completely shaken and went numb. I felt like I’d lost my soul and all my attempts to resist were getting weaker.

Ultimately, I tried to shout but I realized that I had lost my voice.

I could hear it in my head - sharp and strong enough to deafen me but in reality, it was too weak to produce even a single decibel of sound. The event finally ended.

But before that, he whispered in my ear that I was going to be the night's r***i for him and his friends in the boy’s hostel.

Being gay does not mean that I ever want to be tricked into forced sex. Why does the world consider gay men to be perverted? I really don't know.

Probably many of them end up becoming so in search of love and if not love then acceptance, acceptance even in the form of humiliation by straight guys in a closed room.

Staying in that hostel and college was futile. I called my parents, lied to them that I didn't like the course and decided to drop out immediately. My hand still hurt from that night’s incident.

It had not been many days since I’d joined college and my things were still packed. During the break itself, I took my luggage and went away to stay in the nearby hotel.

I was done being the c*m d**p for a group of idiotic straight guys.

But things went downhill from there. I joined a profession that I never wanted to pursue and left a career that still has my heart and soul.

I do not know what to cry for; should I cry for being gay and not getting acceptance?

Or my inability to shout and slap that guy who violated me? Or my inability to tell my parents the truth? Should I cry for fashion going away from me? Or for the fact that I choke each day in this new place?

Or because I cannot lead a normal life as I am gay and people around me do not consider it to be normal?

Do I cry for the fact that I have lost my friends in my isolation? Or for that one lonely year filled with silent cries when I became an online s**t for straight guys on pathetic dating sites?

Should I cry because I may never find love?

Or for things that will go further downhill if I reveal my true sexuality to my parents who are planning to get me married.

I will never allow this marriage to happen for I cannot spoil an innocent girl's life. I guess I am the culprit and hence, I’m ready to face the consequences.

I dared to speak. After so long, I finally did it even though anonymously.

But what about the majority of gay men who face similar humiliation, sometimes even worse than what I experienced?

This story will be among those posts that are not really shared. ‘Straight’ men won't share it for this hampers their mardaangi. Women won't, for they have kids whom they wouldn’t want to end up being gay.

Gay men won't, for it might give the people around them a hint that they are gay. And they have already been called names like ladki, g***u, c****e and so on.

All this time, I thought that offering your seat to a standing lady in a metro is mardaangi and not the size of your d**k. But I guess I’m wrong.

My hand doesn't pain anymore but my heart still does.

But I am not broken. I still want to rule the fashion world and maybe someday, I will.

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