Hidden Hypocrisy

I have always been baffled—no, repulsed—by the hypocrisy of men who live double lives. These are men who pray, fast, go to temples, churches, mosques, or synagogues, who post about their faith and devotion—yet behind closed doors, they are deceiving the very people who trust them the most. They are closeted gay men married to women, lying to their spouses, their families, and even to themselves. I see them, and I wonder: how do they sleep at night? How do they stand before their god and pretend to be righteous while actively living a lie?

I know this is how the world works. I know people lie, that deception is everywhere. But that knowledge doesn’t make it any easier to stomach. It disgusts me to see a man post a picture of himself praying, knowing full well that he is cheating on his wife with other men. Or seeing another man cry over his religious faith, when he himself is engaged in an affair while maintaining the outward appearance of a devoted husband and father. Is this what faith is? Is this what religion teaches—to uphold appearances at any cost while destroying lives behind the scenes?

The phenomenon of closeted gay men marrying women isn’t new. Studies across the world show that thousands of gay men, fearing societal rejection, enter into heterosexual marriages. In India, a 2009 study by the Humsafar Trust found that nearly 70% of gay men in Mumbai were married to women by the age of 30. In smaller cities, the number was as high as 82%. A 2018 survey by Planet Romeo revealed that one-third of gay and bisexual men in India were married to women, and 72% had no intention of ever coming out. What about their wives? Only 16% knew about their husbands’ true orientation.

In the United States, a study by the Williams Institute estimated that around 2 million LGBTQ+ people in the country have entered into different-sex marriages, many due to religious or societal pressure. Among them, the vast majority identified as Christian. In Latin America, where Catholicism plays a dominant role, closeted gay men have historically been pressured into marrying women, with little space to live openly.

This is not just a phenomenon limited to conservative religious societies. Even in more liberal Western nations, where acceptance of LGBTQ+ people is significantly higher, many men still feel compelled to marry women due to cultural and familial expectations. Across South Asia, the Middle East, parts of Africa, and highly traditional communities in the West, the story remains the same: men pretending to be straight to meet societal norms, using women as a shield to maintain their façade.

What sickens me most is the blatant religious hypocrisy. These men claim to be devout. They attend church, pray five times a day, fast, go to temples, celebrate religious festivals. They publicly uphold their faith as a symbol of their righteousness. But when it comes to honesty, to the most fundamental principles of integrity, they fail. It’s like they believe that as long as they pray, as long as they follow the outward rituals, everything else is forgiven. But what about the wives they deceive? The families they manipulate?

I see them posting religious messages, celebrating festivals, and talking about morality while lying to their partners. And I want to shake them and ask: do you even believe in the God you claim to serve? Because if they did, surely they would be terrified of the weight of their deceit. Surely they would know that no amount of prayer can erase the damage they cause.

This is not an attack on faith. In fact, I believe true faith should encourage honesty, self-reflection, and compassion. But these men pick and choose which parts of their religion they want to follow. When it comes to cheating, lying, and leading double lives, they conveniently ignore the moral teachings of their own faith. But they’ll be the first to condemn others for so-called “sins” while refusing to acknowledge their own deception.

Living a double life isn’t just morally bankrupt—it’s also mentally exhausting. These men often suffer from severe anxiety, depression, and identity crises. The strain of keeping up a lie for years, sometimes decades, eats away at them. Meanwhile, their wives endure heartbreak, confusion, and a loss of trust when the truth finally emerges.

And then there are the children. How many families have been broken because a man decided to pretend? How many lives are shattered when, after years of deception, the truth comes out? A woman who thought she had a loving husband realizes she was nothing more than a cover story. Children grow up sensing something was always “off” about their father but not understanding why. And the man himself—if he even has a conscience—must live with the guilt of having built his life on lies.

I am not against faith. I am not against religion. But I am against false piety, against men who hide behind religion while doing everything their faith supposedly condemns. I have no patience for cowards who choose deception over truth, who destroy innocent lives just to maintain their fake image.

If you are a closeted man struggling with your sexuality, do not drag another person into your internal battle. Do not marry a woman just to please your family or to appear “normal” in society. And if you are already married and living this lie, then face your truth—for your sake, for your wife’s sake, for your children’s sake.

And if you are one of those men who pretend to be pious while knowing full well what you are doing in secret—then do yourself a favour and stop praying. Because no god worth worshipping would ever reward a liar.

The Complexity of Lies

Today, I came across a quote that struck a chord: “I was never asking for too much. I was just asking the wrong person.” It made me pause. Lately, I’ve been feeling disillusioned by the people I love, grappling with the simple yet profound expectation of love and honesty. I don’t think I ask for much—just truth, just sincerity. After all, if you truly love someone, wouldn’t honesty be a natural part of that love?

But love and honesty don’t always go hand in hand. We like to believe they do, that love is built on trust and truth, yet relationships often prove otherwise. People lie. And while some lies may stem from fear, self-preservation, or misguided intentions, the fact remains—lies hurt.

I’ve been trying to understand why people lie, particularly to those they claim to love. One could argue that lying is often a reaction to anticipated consequences. The person who lies knows the truth will likely cause disappointment, anger, or pain. But that’s precisely where the contradiction lies—if you know the truth will hurt someone, and you love that person, why lie in the first place? Isn’t deception, in itself, an act of disregard for the person’s feelings?

This brings me to a difficult realisation: lying is not about the character of the person being lied to, but rather about the one doing the lying. A liar weighs the truth, measures the possible reactions, and makes a calculated choice to conceal it. And in making that choice, they assume control over how another person experiences reality. That’s what makes dishonesty so cruel—it robs the other person of the right to respond to life with full knowledge.

Yet, the irony is that truth, no matter how deeply buried, always finds its way out. Lies are never simple; they are layered, tangled, and exhausting to maintain. The truth, on the other hand, is straightforward. It may not always be easy, but it is never as complicated as the web of deceit spun to hide it.

So, if love is real, if it holds any meaning beyond sentiment, then honesty must be part of it. Because love without truth is merely an illusion—fragile, fleeting, and destined to shatter.

Due

The seasons have left,
there are none for my future.
My measure stands bereft,
old wounds know no suture.

The leaves have crumbled
into a crypt filled with dust,
all of love lies jumbled
with loss, lies and lust.

It’s a mire of confusion.
What has life led me to?
It all seems like an illusion.
Who am I? Who are you?

The wind is still, the heat is here,
Hands take what they can.
I am left with what I think is fear
And no real measure of man.

My dogs die, like the seasons do,
Though I enjoy each most.
All that seems to remain true
Are the illnesses I guiltily host.

Regrets I have borrowed,
When I prided myself on having none.
And everything I followed,
Seems to in infinite circles run.

The sun now holds one promise,
maybe I yearn for him to be true:
somewhere, I will find my share of bliss,
sometime, I will be given my due.