Category: I Am

In my life, I have had my share of prejudices. When I was young, I thought that I’d never be able to date someone younger than I. As I grew, and I learnt more about myself and the world, things didn’t seem so black and white anymore. I was 24, and Anand was 18 when we began seeing each other. It’s been 20 years for us now.

Over time, the belief that I would never be able to live with someone who cheated on me sexually also underwent a change. I realised that sexual fidelity must alter as the years progress. This is my opinion and I mention it because my opinion changed with life. Being someone who is liberal did mean that I had to do away with restricting my own self in beliefs that needed to grow too.

That being said, I have never imposed my beliefs on others, and I wouldn’t dream of discussing age and its elasticity with you, because as all intelligent people do, you will learn these things yourself as you grow. Maybe one day, you will realise that things aren’t really cut and dry, numbers mean something only when you apply them to accounts. Life doesn’t do well with accounts, unless you count karma as that. :)

That being said, I didn’t judge you on the basis of your age, but on the basis of your intelligence and your nature. I won’t say I was completely mistaken, and I will not attribute your prejudice as age related either. But it is a prejudice and I don’t do well with being judged. Especially from someone I’ve grown fond of. Thus, it feels disappointing more than anger provoking. Again, this is for me to deal with. And I shall.

What you said to me matters only because I thought it wouldn’t come from you. The fault lies with me as always in harbouring an expectation of open-minded thought…:) however, my relationships I have always discussed in the light of them being understood. So I must also bear the brunt of them being misunderstood as well.

I have loved a guy my age, a guy 12 years older, a guy 7 years younger and a guy 20 years younger. Of course, the younger ones could never be my children, but that’s a moot point. Even if I did have a son who was 21, I would have no issues dating someone who was 21. He just has to appeal to my mind and my heart. The rest is not worth noticing.

Second Round:

Hi,

The only thing you have to be sorry about is making assumptions on the basis of my age and how old the guys who would seem appropriate to you should be with me. Yes, I do know that you did it the second time when you mentioned how my friends in Lahore would be my age. That is when I decided to message you about it.

This was especially because you did minimise the bad experience I had, that Z had begun the topic on. The gravity of the situation was misguided into the topic of age. It was a flippant segue. I did try to bring the topic back to violence and consent, but the moment had passed.

As I have already stated in the messages above, I was surprised that you made these judgements based on age. I expected something different, which was a kind of prejudice on my part as well. I also realised that I have surrounded myself with people who do not consider age to be a factor or a deterrent for growth or the lack of it. One of the reasons, some of my peers call me Peter Pan. :) And it is also why I have him tattooed over my inner bicep. So when I am faced with ageism from someone, younger or older than I, I am taken aback.

I am sure you realise that there are a lot of guys your age who approach me all the time for sex or for relationships, love or otherwise. The considerations of age are not ever significant for me to notice. For the simple reason, I do not equate age with either maturity, intelligence or validation. Until someone says this to me on a live conversation. Then of course, it also happens because people my age sometimes get jealous and retaliate by pointing the age to be vicious. That is another ball game altogether.

Billie Eilish and Adele happen to be my favourite singers. I love Selena, Lana, Gaga – and they have diverse ages. I also prefer Lata and Asha, Rafi and Kishore, to listen to – but I can also fanboy on Prateek Kuhad and Dream Note. Tastes have nothing to do with how old one is. One of the reasons why I introduced Billie to you, and she happens to be your age, not mine.

Yes, most of her songs deal with depression and suicide and mental stresses. One of the reasons I relate to her, because I have battled anxiety and depression since I was younger than you are now. Another reason where age breaks down into feelings of mutual empathy and compassion and understanding. “Listen before I go” is one of my favourite numbers. Which very clearly speaks of suicide.

You say you were terrified that I would stop talking to you. But let me ask you, if you think of the discrepancy of age and understanding and bonding, this shouldn’t be a problem in the first place. So there you yourself are already contradicting what you say you think about age. Technically speaking in a converse way, you aren’t being ageist at all. If you think about it this way.

You may get information on ageism, and prejudice from wikipedia and reddit. But conversations with people who can talk to you as examples are always better – especially in the way that I am caring to do now. I guess it throws back to my teaching days, once a teacher always a teacher, I guess. I am furthering this conversation because I think you want to learn, because you have been writing in to me about and seem genuinely to be bothered about what you have done. In fact, we began the conversation on tastes and prejudices when we spoke of iOS and android users. I did mention I do not get into these discussions and explanations because I do not have to validate my tastes and/or my choices. I shouldn’t have to either.

Maybe the next time we chat, we should get someone online who is closer to your age and who happen to like me romantically. Then there is a probability of a further exchange with some people who think and feel differently – but then again, it would not sit very well with me – me, who doesn’t like explaining myself or those who like me for me, irrespective of race, age, class, religion or culture. This is how I choose to take care of my wounds, by those who are interested in knowing more about them, and not contributing to them. So in that vein, I continue to further a conversation with you, because as I have already said, I am fond of you. And let me be clear, I am not interested in you sexually or romantically, but I have a genuine appreciation for the intelligent man you are and your capability for eloquent conversation.

When I fell in love with him, I accorded him every particle of respect that a spouse would be given. He was loved by my mother, whom he called Biji. My sister, Geeta, who loved him dearly. Geeta is a talkative girl who loves wholeheartedly. He got along with her because he is talkative and loving too. He was more of a brother to her than I could ever be. When he left, she cried bitterly. I broke her heart, over and over again. I am not the brother she always wanted and when he and I broke up I took away the brother she deserved. My kids loved him, like a father. My daughter, especially, would look for his return every alternate day when he came to stay with us. She adored him and he adored her… he would click their portraits regularly. He would have mock fights with my sister and his own sister because they wanted the snaps too – he would play at not wanting to give up the snaps.

I never thought I would be involved in a polyamorous relationship. For reasons explained elsewhere, I spoke to my lover of 16 years, at the time, and he agreed to include the new. Honesty was laid out on the table. And so he was included. He, too, agreed to the dynamic. And post that, as my life and loved ones are witnesses, there was never any discrimination. He was loved. He still is. Because of the wonderful man, he really is.

One of the conditions I have in any relationship, is to see my lover every day. India doesn’t give us the legal right to be with each other. His father declared that I was not welcome in his home. So I would stand at the gate when I would leave him and his sister home. If I had to meet him I would have to wait in the car, so that he would come down and be with me. I could never sit on his bed. I could never open his cupboard. I could not use his bathroom. I could not even stand at his doorway. Because I am homosexual.

But he entered my home. He slept with me on alternate nights. He watched movies with me in my family hall and held my hand on the sofa. He cooked in the kitchen with my mother. He took baths with me in my bathroom. He brought his PlayStation home to share with me. He used the pillow, which referred to on the night of the breakup, “I won’t bend your pillow anymore.” He met all my friends. They saw me treat him as a spouse and they accorded him the same respect. They adored him. I shared every inch of my life with him. He touched every corner of the homes I belonged to. Every object in my life reminds me of a memory with him. It is the same with all the four men who became part of my life over the years. I do not know if it is my fault. It is who I am. I allow them in – in my home, in my bed, in my heart and in my life.

I didn’t realise that in his heart, it wasn’t possible. In time, he believed that I was meant to be the alien, when he was in his home. Perhaps he found new friends who decided that compromise was never a choice. Adapting was not in the nature of love. Bitterness isn’t born, it is created. And perhaps, I was wrong in wanting to be with him. Perhaps, I should not have asked him to make a decision in the middle of a lockdown. Perhaps, I was supremely confident that my family meant as much to him as his did to him.

I think my last fight cinched my relationship. When I asked him to decide who he wanted to be with. I asked him to decide. The family that had rejected him for who he was or the family that had accepted him for he was. I wish I could have accepted him for who he was in his entirety. He had a sister who loved him. But she someone who could never stand by him completely. Because, you see, she too was torn between her own idea of love and sense of duty. And yet –

I appreciate her for who she is. She and I got close over the years and we bonded. I knew where I stood with her. In any fight with him, she had made it clear where her loyalty would lie. I was assured of her steadfastness. I made a mistake by trusting him that his loyalty would lie with me. Ironically, on parting, he accused me of not trusting him. That was the line he chose to take and the fact that he was not happy with me. Of the first, I am aware that it wasn’t true. I trusted him to the point of opening up the core of my heart to him. He is privy to everything in my life. Without a shred of a secret lurking anywhere in my life or the lives of those I love. He knows it and I do.

I made a mistake of thinking that the decisions I made for him against my family would stand as example. I took it for granted that he would choose me. He would love me as much as he did them. This is my constant trait, I rely on the fact that when I love I put the object of my affection first. Over it all. However, it can not always be reciprocated. In fact, it so happens that it never is. Other factors come into play. Love for the family. The feeling of comfort that money affords. The insecurity of your own feelings of love.

As for the second, happiness… oh, the poetic quest for it! Happiness is an illusion. I was not happy all the time. Neither was he. But I understand that being happy is like the tide of an ocean. It never remains static. His idea of what love could be then is different. He always said he loved me Tan90-ly… I’ll never forget this. Because now I realise that I do love so. In time, perhaps, he will realise what it means. Perhaps, in time, he will meet those who understand what he had and chose to give up. Perhaps, in time, he will realise what my family gave him. Perhaps, in time, he will know me better and understand that if he really wanted it to work, we could have worked.

Perhaps, in time, I will realise he just didn’t want to give us further effort. Loving someone Tan90-ly doesn’t mean the same thing to everyone. I could never build bridges and then burn them. I can never stop lingering over the places I have been happy in. I can never break away from people I love. I have not confused love with other emotions. Perhaps that is how I can see it have a purpose – it is a tangible entity that can never die… not until I do. My only regret is that there were those I loved who became casualties of heartbreak along with me. I mourn for them. They who opened their hearts, and home, because they love me. Tan90-ly, too.