I *heart* Bombay (and well..Boston)

I'm urban..in the way other people are mountain-people or tunafish junkies. I love city life...something about dreary concrete blocks and grumpy people totally gets my juices flowing. Ergo, this will be a blog about me, my two favourite cities (Bombay and Boston), my addiction to Vietnamese coffee and my views on Gregorian chant and it's efficacy in curing some types of tympannic membrane rupture. Enjoy!

Monday, March 27, 2006

Where have I been?

It's been a while since I last posted..I know I know! I've been rather lackadasical (word of the day) in my blogging lately...but that's just cause nothing really seems to be different in this routine that is my life. Wake up, work, Cafe Coffee Gay and a book and home again. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Just incredibly blah! It got to a point where I was seeing the same bhaajiwalla at the same spot on the street, the same dogwalker (Man, she's so so butch! "Butchy McBullDyke" is my nickname for her) with the same fucking dog pooping on the street, the same queue of burkha-clad women outside the herbal masseuse, the same damn people over and over and over again...It was like Groundhog day but without the attractive people. And yes, I actually called Bill Murray attractive (If you saw "Lost in Translation", you'd agree too)

How does one deal with lethargy? Especially when it's 35C and 90% humidity outside? Well, one goes to the beach! "Juhu beach?" I hear the multitude cry out! "He swims in that bacterial sludge and oil slick that villagers from the hinterland call the sea" the gossip is whispered from ear to ear. "He will tan horribly and then no one will marry him" Amma wails. "He's a fag, no one wants him anyway" Annu reasons. "He isn't wheatish anymore (neither is he gym-built, lovable or *has place*)" The gay bois taunt.

Ah well, screw you all! I took my ass off to Goa! Land of sea, sand, surf and selibacy. OK So that doesn't really work, but you get my drift. We had this company offsite thing in Goa for a couple of days and after the all-work bit, it was time for some all-play (Quick digression : I HATE the all-play option on Pictionary...because I always end up with the partner who doesn't cheat and look into the better artist's pad). I stayed behind after the work bit for 3 days of R&R (with the R not standing for Routine thankfully) on Baga beach. Waking up at brunch time about 11 am, spending 30 minutes trying to decide if I open my left eye first or my right eye, eating insanely huge meals for half the price, drinking Kings beer till I swear I had beer coming out of my ears, getting a ridiculous tan and no tan line..how ever did I manage it? ;-)

I even ended up going to the gay bar at Calangute all by myself. Actually, that was a big red-letter night for me. I've never been to a gay bar, gay party, gay anything alone. I'm absolutely petrified of having my very basic social skills (some say Neanderthalic almost) exposed to the sneering gaze of the obnoxiously good looking people who show up wherever I am just as I'm having a bad hair day (or worse, a bad jeans-fit day) Anyway, I walked in to find myself the only brown person in a lounge of about 75 people. "Drat!" I said to myself.."I've walked into the annual meeting for the Ku Klux Klan - Goa North chapter" And then I was like - Oh wait, this is just like every one of those bar nights at Club Cafe in Boston...when I represented the vast multitude of the unwashed, tired, hungry, huddled *brown* masses yearning to breathe free in a sea of perfectly coiffed, Abercrombie and Fitch wearing, giant pecs showing, blond hair gelled up *white bois*. I should be used to this...and with that thought in mind I strode in confidently. (*No he didn't. He slinked in hoping no one noticed him and said Hi before he'd downed atleast 2 martinis*).

And it was such a revelation..men saying Hi, men buying me drinks, men laughing at my feeble attempts at humour! Men wanting to get into my pants...WTF? Was this another planet I was on? Whatever happened to the "Ignore the Vikster" club? Was this just a Gay Bombay construct? Am I *shudder* actually interesting in Goa? And so I held court. Revenge for colonialism...now this skinny brown guy had assorted Englishmen buying *him* drinks. Thank you Gandhi and Nehru.

Note to all disparagers of the Vikster's karaoke skills: There were a few people there at the bar who remembered my moving rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody from New Year's eve at the same bar. Which I thought was wicked cool seeing as the dudes in question were wearing thongs and peacock feather masks that night.

10 (Yes. 10.) drinks later, I staggered out. At 5 am. I was drunk. Fuck the horny bit...I was so drunk I don't think I even realized I had a dick that could be used for non-peeeing purposes. "Never again" I said as I crawled into bed...2 Aspirins and a bottle of water clutched in my arms. The ceiling swam in front of my eyes. I closed my eyes and I got seasick. Kept sitting up and promising myself that this was the absolutely last time I was ever going to drink..and then laughing out loud at the ridiculous view of myself wrapped up in a bedsheet, waste paper basket in hand, talking to myself in the mirror....

And I spent the last 2 days of my holiday hungover. Sunglasses on face, hat hiding the glare and a quiet corner on the beach with no trance or sitars twanging in the background.

And since then, I've been good. No beer, no vodka and ... no martinis. The last one is causing me much heartburn. Or that could just be the gin from the night in Goa coming back to haunt me again...Blech! Oh and if I ever need to know why I shouldn't drink, I'm just going to check out this picture of me...drunk off my ass!

Current music:
Losing my religion - REM

I sang this for M. at "O Pescador" at Baga Beach one night 1 year or more ago. It's amazing how I remember it still..

Friday, March 03, 2006

My gaydar sucks!

Another weekend, another set of bars to hang out at. All of them are in Bandra (except on the off chance I get a ride up to Phoenix to hang out at the Sports Bar there). The reason being my lack of enthu to get to Bandra station, stand in a queue for G-d knows how long, dodge the limbless man, oozing wounds man and disfigured leper at the ticket counter and then head to town in my dhinchak club wear. I simply can't be bothered anymore. How much easier to just walk down to the neighborhood bar (the one where they all know your name..Cheers? No, I think it's Totos!)

Anyway, was at Seijo with les fiances S. (S & S...like my favourite deli in Inman Square, these are my 2 favourite people to hang out with...now that Meenu is leaving me for Ammrikka!). I figured it's just a few beers with the str8 folk anyway so as usual I was totally not prepared to be flirty, interesting or fun. Yes, I am fake enough and cynical enough that I have to be in the mood to flirt nowdays. However, S. kept pointing out these hotties (where have they been the whole time?) who kept walking in and out of Seijo and asking me if I thought they were cute/hot/father-of-my-kids type. And that's when I realized I have abyssmal gaydar. Honestly, my str8 friends have better 'dar than I do. And that scares and appalls me..seeing as I probably passed on several glances, flirts and hints from the possible loves of my life (Why am I sounding like Jack from Will & Grace?). I mean honestly, the only way I know someone is gay is if he comes up to me and is downright blatant "Hello Baby, do you want to do body sex with me?"

Anyway, I tried yesterday with a little help from my friends to identify the gay men at the bar. 3 of them were too easy. One uber-closet case ("Don't talk to me at the bar.. people will think I'm gay".. HELLO! You couldn't get gayer if you were wearing a tutu!), one druggie and one "artiste". Then came the tough part. Identified 3 candidates to analyze (this was the point when the lack of dinner and the 3 beers started taking hold). And these are the points why I think these guys might be ...er... the only gay in the village.

1. L.L. Cool Gay : (Nickname assigned by Sanj.)
  • Came to bar with 4 women
  • Dressed better than any of them
  • Danced with hands held above head thus exposing taut midriff (and creating mini-boner in the Vikster's pants)
  • Drank a Bacardi Breeze while the women chugged their beers
  • WAY too much bling on his wrists
  • Nice shoes
  • Took pictures of himself with his cellphone (Come into my arms Vain Man!)
2. Model-Shodel Boy : (Punju-Shanju Guy-Wuy drinking-winking at Seijo-Weijo)
  • Pants were WAY too tight (Bonus points for the nice ass though!)
  • Tattoo of butterfly on beautifully sculpted upper arm (WTF?)
  • Sonu Nigam style bonded and highlighted hair (Gross! He looks like one of those mofussil-type Indian Idol wannabes with that hair!)
  • Drank Bacardi Breeze (again?)
  • Bopped around waving ciggie in air and was actually pouting! (Isn't that the exclusive prerogative of gay men? For reference: Check out Rahul Bose in the new watch commercial..)
3. Bank on me Man : (Vij, he looks just like what I think our friend - the dog lover looks like)
  • Fantastic clothes (then again, he probably just got out of work as an investment banker/stock broker/model for Amarsons)
  • Drinking a beer and standing at the bar just looking around
  • Nice watch, nice shoes
  • Pleated pants? Say what? (Who even wears these nowdays? Besides Bhaiyyas from UP?)
  • Began dancing only when the Madonna remix came on
So these were my three victims last night. Of course, being true to form, I just stood there drinking my Kingfisher observing. I considered smiling at them but then I remembered the geisha Mameha's advice to the maiko Nita Sayuri. The one where she teaches her to floor a man with only one glance and not a word. I'm aiming to try this method out for a month. Let's see how it goes!
Anyway, I tried my best to figure out just which of these 3 believed in the love that dare not speaks it's name. And I failed miserably. I had 15 minutes to analyze all 3 individually and these were the only points I figured out. And they all went back with a woman. (Then again, that need not necesarily mean anything...I alwyas leave clubs/bars with a woman. Heck, I even leave GB parties with a woman..or someone sufficiently post-op to count).

Lack of Radar destroyed Atlantic shipping in 1916. Lack of Gaydar destroys Vikster in 2006.

Current Music:
Russian Waltz - Shostakovich

My favourite waltz ever. It fits somehow that I'm listening to it .. seeing as I'm reading a book on Stalin and this waltz is by Stalin's favourite composer. I love how he uses Russian folk elements in this waltz. Two manicured thumbs up.