Leather Lions

So this past weekend, I was in the Windy City of Chicago, attending a hoity-toity academic conference. But during the preceding week, while I was chatting with the gay denizens of crazy-wild-Chi-town, the most common question I encountered, when I told them the dates of my visit, was: "O, you're coming for IML?"

Umm,... IML?

IML, as it turned out, was the mecca of all things queer and leather: the International Mr. Leather contest/ conference/ festival. The reason for using those three words and all that "/" is mainly that I'm not sure (yet!) exactly what it is/was. Not quite a festival like the Gay Pride marches, not exactly a conference where fancy-shmancy papers get presented (and ignored thereafter), and no, not merely a contest either.

For five whole days, leather afficiandoes (and yes, they were men, no women at all that I could see!) descend from all over the world to Chicago, in all their bovine (o, I'm sure most were faux leather!) adornments and glittery chrome attachments, to strut down Michigan Avenue. An entire five-star hotel is booked by the IML organizers, rooms are offered to attendees at special rates, conference and banquet rooms are booked for special 'sessions' (to put it most delicately) and a Leather-Mart that houses the most out-of-the-world apparatus, and a long-drawn-out pageant to crown International Mr. Leather is held.



My first reaction, when I heard the whole deal: O.M.G.... how frikkin' fantabulous! :)

Yes, so you always knew I'm a bit of a skank, didn't you? *grin*

Unfortunately, I had to balance IML and my hoity-toity conference together, so no, I wasn't exactly hanging for my life onto the slings suspended in the ballrooms, or screaming hoarsely in a sweaty hotel-room (well, not the IML hotel-room, at any rate! *giggle*)... I was trying to be a good nerdy academic at the conference, imbibe the High Arts of fabulous Chicago, and engage in some tiltillating voyeurism at IML - all at the same time. So, I visited the world-famous Leather-Mart with a hunky 'daddy', was suitably awestruck at the scope of the human imagination that could come up with all the wondrous inventions therein, and ogled at the furry/ smooth/ gleaming buttocks in full display at the hotel.

But my favorite intermingling of the three? Most definitely, when I hit the Art Institute of Chicago to check out its new Modern wing with a conference-colleague, and spied the many gorgeous leather-men in their boots and chaps milling around...

You've head of the famous lions at the Art Institute, right?...



Now imagine my roars of approval! :)

Dear Diary

Coffee mug in hand, here I go...

• Christmas was beautiful. I fought tooth and nail with Irish Coffee and managed to keep the tree up for the better part of January, so his was the only house on the block which twinkled with fairy lights on India's Republic Day. :) We exchanged gifts on New Year's Eve and spent New Year's Day evening at the zoo, which was all lit up and looking spectacular. Yes, yes, very romantic and all that. (Though I'm not too sure if we held hands and did all that mushy stuff!) :)
  
  
• Work has been hectic. Preparing and mailing PhD applications has been taxing, both mentally and physically. The good news is, I've been accepted into all the great schools I applied. The bad news, bureaucracy is being a bitch and it's the same old Indian 3-year university system versus the US 4-year one that is making me want to pull my hair out (...which is, a big deal, really, since you probably know my haircut is buzzed). So, yes, I'm waiting and watching and hoping things get resolved soon.
  
  
• Talking about hairy issues, I almost stumbled in disbelief the other day upon spying not one but two (!) white hairs on my chest. Good God. So now it's official. I'm old. Not even 30 yet, and I've already been put out to pasture. Irish Coffee (smug bastard!) is thrilled. I, understandbly, am less so.
  
  
  
  
• I might be headed to NYC again for a quick trip - as part of the recruitment weekend for one of the graduate schools who've accepted me. Haven't worked out all the details yet, but I am hoping things will fall into place :) (Not too sure I'm going to accept their final offer though, but that's another matter...!)
  
  
• So I found out I have a lousy credit score. More accurately, I have a non-existent credit score.Which makes my obtaining a credit card terribly unlikely. Which makes my credit score remain perpetually low. Am I the only one who thinks the American credit score system is inherently flawed? Yes, Barrack, you do need change! :)
  
  
  
  
• I have re-discovered Dr. Pepper after a hiatus of several months. Not quite Cherry Coke, not quite Pepsi, not quite anything really - least of all, pepper-y! Now that I've re-discovered it, it's time for me to shun it once more, of course. So there.
  
  
  
  
• May is looking good for Chicago. I do love that city. I love the feel, the ambiance, the sky-scrapers, the Mag Mile, and Boystown. I'd love to live in Chicago some day. O, wait. Didn't I say that about Manhattan earlier? (And Pittsburgh? And Cleveland? And San Diego?)
  
  
• So I defended my thesis proposal successfully. That makes me (officially) a Masters Candidate, ripe for the PhD pickings. I've given myself about three months or so to complete the thesis (even though the official deadline is early June - o, wait, that does work out to three months, doesn't it? Whoops.). So, no more doodling on separate projects and papers that have nothing to do with getting that darned thesis complete and graduating.
  
  
• Is it strange that I find this random pic sexy - even though I can't see his face? Are tattoos and a hairy chest all I need to get intrigued? (Perhaps it's the shades?)
  
  

America's Finest City!

So my first thought on walking out of San Diego airport was: I look odd all muffled-and-bundled up in my winter gear, while everyone around me is traipsing around without a coat or a care in the world. My second thought: so this is what Santa gives me for being good all year - a long weekend in sunny California! :)





So even though my friend Lo-retta (as my giggly friend in Cleveland will henceforth be known as, and if you watch Family Guy, you'll know where I'm coming from!) wasn't able to make it on the trip, practically everyone else of my academic discipline did! This was the most anticipated conference of the year, and a whole bunch of us nerds from everywhere in the US descended upon San Diego - "America's Finest City" - to question, analyze, problematize, showcase and many-other-things-besides our field! We had a lovely hotel downtown, bang across the gorgeous harbor, regular parties hosted by various universities practically every night, and some very touristy places to hop around-and-over.









(Like Balboa Park, which is supposed to be SD's version of central perk, oops, park - and its strange but surprisingly engaging row of miniature globes - all except the blue one which had bras etched on it for some weird reason: as every gay boy knows, bras are just plain eewwwww!)

The gaslamp quarter was amazingly alive with life - too bad I didn't take my camera along with me the times I went there for dinner, but it was a treat. Sunny sidewalk cafes for lunch during the day, and some great clubs and bars to visit once the sun went down. A colleague and I headed over to Croce's Jazz Bar, and though I was supposed to hook up with a cute gay professor for clubbing at Hillcrest afterwards, I decided to cancel that and stayed on for the jazz!



Hillcrest wasn't cancelled for too long, though. The next day, I was chatting online with another gay academic from my conference, and we decided to have a great night out. So, yes, there was good music, great drinks, fantastically nerdy conversations (for a gay bar!) and some jaw-tiring kissing. :) I've promised to stay in touch with my Californian gay academic, even though I'm half way across the world simply cuz we had such a great time talking and dancing. (OK, the kissing played a part in the decision, too!)

The best part about San Diego though wasn't really Hillcrest - personally, I much prefer Chicago's Boystown in terms of ambience - but rather the fabulous ocean. Frankly, the land-locked Midwest doesn't have a patch on a beautiful, sparkling ocean, and that's where my homesickness for Bombay kicks in again...!







And though I spent some time walking along the harbor, I know there's much, much more to do/see here... San Diego deserves another trip - and this time, I know I have kiss-worthy friends, too! *grin*

Whirlwind

The world has been turning (as ever), I've been busy with a gadzillion things, and even when I thought things would just kinda settle down, either they didn't or I didn't let them - and it's taken me this long to reclaim this space. I have a theory that I actually like being all busy and buried under a pile of books and responsibility - and of course, the bitching that comes with it. It's a theory that Irish Coffee won't dispute too much, seeing that he's usually the hapless victim of my bitching! :)

It's strange to think that it's been more than a year now since I hopped on that awfully long plane ride, snarled at Heathrow officials, marveled in Chicago, and then dropped my jaw on arriving at my Midwestern hamlet. From initially looking at a one-year stint and then planning on running back to good ole Bombay, here I am doing the Whole Nine Yards, falling in love (I'm the hapless one, really!), and quite at ease with the whole poor-grad-student routine. Mind-boggling. As that fabulously profound facebook one-liner goes: I can afford to be a Humanities scholar, I'm marrying rich! *grin*

Cleveland went by all too fast, though. The Little Italy historic district was a dream: lazing on the sidewalk patisserie munching on cannolis and licking white chocolate gelatos, and then that amazing dinner with violins playing in the background, the laughter of friends, and a blurry picture on my digicam to make it all perfect. Gawking at the Terminal and Key Towers downtown, bracing in the cool Lake Erie air, shimmering in front of the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame, doodling around the Western Reserve Historical Society, drawing patterns in the grass of International Park, and hushed silence at the Cleveland Museum of Art... A strangely harmonious, whirlwind weekend which sped by with crazy laughter, heart-stopping tenderness, and a strange buzz.



But Cleveland is over, and I'm back; graduation ceremony was the other day, and a very close friend is leaving soon, and while I'm feeling a bit sad, I'm also a bit excited because it's a whole brand new year, a whole new thesis to catch up on, and that hunt for graduate schools starts all over again.



Told ya I had a theory... :)

On the move...

In the morrow, I'm heading for Cleveland... :)



Yes, yes, I know that the city's economy really isn't doing too well and that it's been labeled the poorest major city in the US... but I can't help feeling excited about visiting the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame, the Terminal Tower, the Key Tower, the Cleveland Museum of Art, the Old Stone Church, Euclid Avenue, University Circle, the Playhouse Square Center, the Cleveland Browns Stadium, the Cleveland Metroparks Zoo, and the Steamship Mather Museum... I don't have the energy to provide links for all of that, so if you're that curious (and one would have to be quite jobless, really, to plumb those heights), hit Wikipedia. It's great to make that long a list, it's another matter altogether whether I'll be able to make all of them though, but then I'll probably die trying - and kill Irish Coffee and my Clevelander friend while doing it! :)

Shucks... 1.30 am now, and I have to be up and outta my place by 8.30 am. How does a grad student survive in the harsh world 'out there' anyway?!

***

In other news, I hit the camping trail with Irish Coffee last weekend. No bears to scare away, and the 'skeeters were pretty godawful, but then camp fire nights and tent-sex are quite the thrill, I discover. Of course, being the sole Indian/Asian in the camping heartland of the American Midwest, I constituted quite the spectacle for your everyday-"normal" White folks, so I'm guessing they would have been quite shocked/stupefied/mortified/horrified/terrified by the "Cowboys 'n' Indians" game going on in our tent!



*grin*

I left my hat in... New York City...

So I don't have Tony Bennett's magical croon, and I worry about leaving my gorgeous fedora back in New York, New York much more than I do about my heart, but there it is: second time I've misplaced my headgear, after losing my cap in Chicago last year. :( In any case, I still have pictures of me wearing them, and that's one of the reasons that led me to post the picture below. That, and the fact that I'm finally breaking the ban on pictures of myself here (even though this one is suitably darkened via Photoshop), and also that I wanted to make a sort of "Fag-ulous Guide to the Big Apple in Pictures" kind of a post. So there you go - Closetalk, at the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art.



And when you're done with imbibing the arts, head over down to Broadway, rub shoulders with the pretty people and catch them on the stage. Now that you have to watch Mary Poppins in particular, but I mean - flying through the air with a magic rod... how fag-ulous is that?!



Time to hail a cab and walk down the meandering little streetways and not-so meandering avenues out at Central Park West. Stop for lunch at one of the gorgeous sidewalk cafes, and expect Carrie Bradshaw to pop out from one of those beutiful brownstones any second now...



Next stop: The American Museum of Natural History. So there was me and this Chinese chick in the Greco-Roman Sculpture Court, both of us looking for Hercules...



... Both of us moved in for the wide-angle kill. First, Hercules as the young man about town (what's with the teeny penis, though?!), and the second as the buff older guy in the lion skin. Now that's the kind of beast I like. :)



... And how strange is that... out of the sight of hunky young men (albeit, marble ones) and into the bedchamber.... *sigh* Look at me, going all ga-ga about satin sheets and brocade partitions and gorgeous gilted wood carvings... Get me a bed like that, baby, and I'm never surfacing for air! *wink*



When you finally get yourself out of the arty environs (despite the most stimulating visuals), head over to catch the most phallic statement of them all - the Empire State Building.



Imagine my surprise, though, when I spot rickshaw drivers in Manhattan! Thought they were a purely Asian phenomenon, but wikipedia informs me better now. Wowee... there really is a recession, huh?! Kidding aside, let's be honest: if they had yummy drivers like him in Calcutta, I would be ALL for keeping them around! Every city needs to look pretty.



And if you're wondering what to do, once you've mounted his machine, get a clue from this poster art I picked up from the Lexington Street Fair...



If it's the less carnal entertainment you're looking for, and Broadway is a bit too far for you to hike it, head over to the Winter Garden Theatre and catch the latest showing of Mamma Mia, the hit show. A whole play based on ABBA's songs - and soon to come out on the big screen... fag-ulous!



... Or, if you're more into the leg-kicking, soul-shrieking variety (Not that ABBA won't do that for you, too), come back in December to watch the Rockettes in action at Radio City Music Hall (love the costumes!)...



Towards the end of the "Fag-ulous Guide to the Big Apple in Pictures", so make sure you get your own cheesy pic of the biggest queen in the world - Lady Liberty. Just to let you know that phallic symbols like the Empire State aren't all they're cut out to be: grab a fancy hat, swishy robes and a torchlight, and you're all set for the good times! :)



Wanted to close the guide with a pic of the good ole Indian flag, on a nice mushy note. At the Rockefeller Center, with all the other national flags... It's amazing, to think that Calcutta, Bangalore and Delhi will have their official Queer Pride Marches next week.



Jai Hind! :)

Still Star-truck by the City...

So I'm back home in the Midwest, and (surprise, surprise!) I still have a NYC hangover. Apart from the long-awaited coming-out story, these last few days have been so amazing in so many ways. Walked out of the 42d street subway the other day, and found a great street fair in progress on Lexington Avenue, amazing street food, posters and artwork, and some fabulous scarfs and stoles. Picked up some swishy pashminas for mum and myself, and a I *heart* NY for dad, gulped a corn dog in true NYC style, and paddled over to Rockefeller Center. St. Patrick's Cathedral was amazing, and even though it felt so cheesy to snap pictures while some people were praying in the aisles, it didn't bother me too much. *grin* My feet tingled for ages, much after we got back to the hotel, because of our walks all across the city. Mmmmm...

And that's where the drink with the hunky Italian made up for sore feet. Yummy man, fabulous conversation, a dry martini and a happening bar. Now, that's NYC for you.



My trip ended with some other great vignettes: walking down Wall Street and contemplating the oncoming (?) US recession in front of the the NYSE; gazing up at Trinity Church reverentially; munching on some amazing lasagna and tiramisu at an authentic mom-and-pop Italian joint in Midtown; cursing the UN building authorities for taking down the world flags at night when we got there; walking through the lobby of Radio City Music Hall; eating chocolate softee ice cream cones at the Rockefeller Center; sorting through Prada and DKNY and pressing my nose against the Tiffany's glass window on 5th Avenue; reading the inscriptions on the WTC memorial wall and looking at the busy cranes working on the forthcoming (new and improved) WTC 2.0; hogging on some fantabulous Vietnamese fare at Chinatown (the one in Manhattan, not the others); sipping coffee in a funky Soho cafe; exploring Broadway and checking out the latest releases (again); wondering when I get to ride in the back of that marvelously white stretch limo snaking its way through Manhattan...

But it's good to be back here, with my baby. :) I missed yakking nineteen to the dozen with my Irish Coffee, missed snuggling with him on the sofa while watching moronic stuff on the telly; missed our long evening walks with the dog, and I'm certainly looking forward to cozying up in bed tonight! :) All those Jamaicans and Italians have got me horned up for the Irish tonight! *blush*

"Hello Loverrrrrr...!" - LIVE from the BIg Apple

It's terribly appropriate to start off this post with the opening lines of the spankin' new Sex and the City movie: here I am, in Carrie Bradshaw's backyard on the day of the movie's release. If ever there was an occasion to yell Hallelujah!, then this is it, bab-eh! :)

O my, o my, o my... where do I start from, and how do I stop feeling like a ditsy school girl writing this blogpost?! I've been spending the last couple of days drinking in Manhattan, and I suppose why I feel so... intoxicated. The boys here are unbelievable, really. All those fables we heard around the winter fire when we were wide-eyed eager gay bunnies with bushy tails/asses in Bombay, about the wondrously shining world of Manhattan, all the stylish young (and older) men looking divinely gorgeous, all the designer wear and the designer attitude, the bright lights and the big city - it's all true, me-dearies! The fairy tale is so fabulously fag-ulous, it's enough to lose your sense of being grounded - and thank gawd for that! Welcome to the Big Apple, where the men are simply too cute and sexy to be anything but gay, and the labels scream out so amazingly rich and loud.



OK then, enough with the hyperbole, already. So what have I been up to then? Mmmm.... it's all a whirl of sensations, emotions and excitement, really... Walking in Central Park, remembering the scene where the SATC girls have their picnic; sipping divinely rich mocha and crunching on raspberry rolls at this tucked-in-a-corner Israeli cafe near the Empire State; watching the city spread before me, while up high on the 102nd floor of the Empire State; floating down the Hudson river, watching the harbor lights of the city twinkle in the sunset; Lady Liberty holding her torch alight and me getting an idea for my Halloween costume this year (giggle!); drooling through the Tiffany's window at Fifth Avenue; counting the days/years/decades till I live in a high-rise overlooking Central Park; partaking of Vietnamese food in the original Chinatown and remembering that episode where Carrie freaks out on Big for taking her to a discreet Chinatown restaurant; doodling hours over at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and contemplating Picassos and Renoirs; sipping Starbucks coffee and blowing cream while watching bare-chested Adonis' jog past me out on the street; munching on sidewalk cafes on Broadway; letting the lights of Times Square shine on me like crazy freakin' diamonds; dancing my sexy tush at the Splash bar (and trying not to feel too ugly in front of the semi-naked perfect Gods go-going there);... and all this is just three days. *whew*

So I get an invite to head down to Manhattan's Splash bar for their Sex and the City movie launch party, and I meet this gorgeous Jamaican who's a friend of Sexy Older Guy. The good news is: the Jamaican is realllllly into me. The bad news is... ummm, well, not really bad news, more like the dampener for the unabashed sexual rampage I would have had in mind, was the fact that I'm already "taken". :) So, the Jamaican and I did some hot and heavy dancing, loads of flirting, innuendos and all, lip-licking heart-thumping thoughts and stuff, but when push came to shove, I did a Cinder-fella and scooted from the bar, leaving my glass slippers behind and keeping my undies up where they belong. Well, it wasn't a very a timely exit, seeing that I got back to the hotel at around 4.30 am, but you get what I'm trying to say. That's called Domestication. Capital letters.



O, but the SATC movie is going to be HUGE! Everyone knows that the gay community is waiting anxiously to see it - click here for a firsthand account of the NYC premiere - and I'm dying to get back home and watch it for myself. Will force Irish Coffee to come with me - hell, this is what he gets for having me keep my undies up and not take them off for sexy Jamaicans! *giggle*

In other news: I finally came out to the older brother. :) But that's for another post. This has been a busy couple of days for me in the Big Apple!

Update: Not sure whether it has anything to do with my presence here right now or not, but NY state has just decided to recognize the legality of gay marriages conducted in other parts of the country/world. Perhaps it's a small step away from being the third US state to legalize gay marriage? A teeny bit of wishful thinking never hurt anyone, in any case...

Closetalk in Chicago

Closetalk in Chicago
(sounds like one of those Asterix comics... 'Asterix in America'...!)

The ole Midwest is hardly the place for you, if you're a Bombay boi, who's used to 13 million teeming and pulsating around you, so you can imagine how eager I was to finally get my ass out to Chicago for a quick pre-Christmas trip. I'd heard all about the "Windy City" from Irish Coffee, who lived there for ten years earlier, and I was dying to see a real city finally in the States - with all due respect to Indy. So we packed our bags, put the dog in the car, and drove down to Chicago.

We found a motel right off Halstedt Street, Chicago's Boystown, and Irish Coffee and I traipsed down the street. I, of course, found the Rainbow Pillars of Boystown quite freakishly fabulous and got straight down to posing for snaps! Also drove over to Lakeshore Drive, which is supposed to be quite the scenic cruising area, and then back to Halstedt Street in time to catch the play we had tickets for.



Once that was done, it was time to visit yet another icon of Boystown - Gay-Mart, which I can only describe as a thoroughly kooky curiosity shop! Picked up a completely nonsensical Stewie angel ornament for the Christmas tree, and then ambled into the Leather Shop and Cupid's Treasures to check out the merchandise. Was sorely tempted to buy the handcuffs and edible underwear, but then decided I could be quite devilish in Chicago without them! What can I say... I get my inspiration from Stewie! hehehe!



After we finished checking into the motel, Irish Coffee and I hit the bar - the straight bar, that is, where his friend's the bartender. The idea was to get loaded on free beers and (yuck!) whiskey. Anyhow, it was fun chatting with the straight folks (as SnowWhite's Stepmum says, or used to, at any rate: "Straight people are normal too!"), but then I forgot that my boyfriend is Irish whereas I get high on a single malt, so after seven beers I ended up puking my guts all over the floor. Mortifying start to a fun holiday, but there I was. In my defence, we were at the bar for a good six hours till I gave my virtuoso performance.

*sigh*

Anyhow, by the time morning came, I was raring to go again and we dropped by the Magnificent Mile. I drooled at the sight of Prada and Tiffany's and given my Holly Golightly affliction, just had to pop in, much to poor Irish Coffee's vexation! :) Walked downtown some more, posed for cheesy pictures and then into the Millenium Park to watch the city's skyline reflected in the Big Bean. :) When the Traveller first recommended I head over to some place called "the big bean", I must admit I sniggered, but hey, it was actually loads of fun, standing by and watching the skaters whizz by.

Did loads more sight-seeing in the next two days, and we headed down to the gay bars in Boystown each night. Time to show of my Bombay togs, so out came the sexy pink Benetton tee and tapering black leather shoes, and I was ready to sashay. Roscoe's was fun and sexy, great cosmopolitans; Cocktail was amusing with its pretty boys; and Hydrate was fun too, with all the hunky shirtless guys boogeying on the dance floor. I'd been poring over the Gay Chicago reader during the day, over my Starbucks, and noting where all the fun parties were, and though I missed the Wet Bear contest (damn!) I had fun nonetheless. Nights of white wine for me, no more beer (thank you!), and it felt nice, standing and chatting and laughing with Irish Coffee, while he whispered terribly sweet nothings in my ear... :)

There are two different joys in exploring a fabulous city with (a) your boyfriend, or (b) your friends... and though I only have (a) right now, and I miss my (b) terribly, it was still a freakin' fun time in the Windy City!

What did I bring back? Mmmmm... apart from the wicked Stewie ornament, a great Boystown football tee that I plan to wear during the summer and a very shiny Pink Pig dogtag. :)



O, and a bunch of great memories!

Hot Turkey

Hot Turkey

I've been making excuses for quite some time now to my friend the Traveller for not blogging, excuses mainly dealing with work. It's the end of the Fall semester here, and I had tonnes of paperwork to do - theory and term papers to write, presentation proposals to make, etc, and now that I have a kind of respite (one more due Monday, but that's the very last!) I did want to come back here and blog about what a fun time it's been since my last post.

The best thing to ease me into the tough study schedule I find myself in now would be, I decided, a holiday over the Thanksgiving break. So a phone call was made to the Traveller, bus tickets were purchased, and I found myself in Indianapolis. I'd asked Irish Coffee when he dropped me at the bus station, whether there were any cowboys there, and he laughed. I didn't think so, but it doesn't hurt to ask. :) Anyhow, my trip to Indy was simply fabulous. Traveller took me all around downtown, we gawked at the phallic symbol the city prides on, we walked in and out of museums, we snapped pictures of fabulous old buildings and we dined on some amazing food at English pubs and German rat cellars (The Rathskeller was the name of the restaurant). There was even an attempt to change the template of this blog, but I got cold feet at the last minute when the HTML codes started bullying me. O, and yes, we partied. :)



I haven't partied like that in ages! :) Not since Bombay, at any rate! :) Traveller's gay cousins were in town, with their respective partners, and all of us hit the Indy gay scene with a storm. Great music, loads of alcohol, and dizzying dances that ended with the fabulous circle jig. Mmmmm.... even waking up with a (teeny) hangover didn't dull the fun!

So, Indy was fun.

Understatement. :)

Gay Calcutta Chromosome

Gay Calcutta Chromosome
- With Due Apologies, Mr. Ghosh

Back in the homeland, and this time I've been missing Bombay from Day One. The good things have been regular phone calls from SS and Vivian to keep me going, chats with Natureboy about Sex and The City, and some good ole-fashioned hogging! (I can imagine SS pursing his lip with a "I'd be horribly mean to you, but then since you're going away...!" whimper) The men, however, have been few and far in between.

Calcutta is not famous for its cute gay men - the author of this blog being the notable exception.



Somehow, with the barrage of Sushmita Sens, Rani Muherjees, Bipasha Basus, and even the sluttier Koena Mitras and Tanushree Duttas, the Bong men were left far, far behind, so far behind that no one ever stopped back to look for them. The Bong men, we're just usually the smart and witty ones, the arty-farty ones, who totally lack in the Body Beautiful department. I got hit on online by an otherwise great Bong chap this evening, and when I told him he wasn't my sexual type, he responded with a o-so-hurt "Aa, so you prefer the brawny hunks, eh?" - to which I replied, yes, Delhi's Jats and Punjabis have always done it for me, in a way that hardly anyone else has.

(O, ok, so there was the Mac sailor-boy I'd had just before leaving Bombay. O, and the Gujarati tall boy who liekd getting down and dirty. O, and even the hunky Marathi guy in his Andheri East flat. Oops, and the Sindhi cutestuff in Khar...)

But the point is, with the notable exception of Salsaboy in Delhi, I've never been really attracted to another Bong. The so-called Bong Connection has never happened with me.

So yesterday evening, I went out on a great date with this Multani Punjabi fellow, a dying species I know, and we had vodkas and beer and chatted nineteen to the dozen. The morning before that, I was playing wicked games with a Sindhi muscle-mary I somehow managed to find in the by lanes of the Calcutta chatroom. Tomorrow, I have a coffee date with a NYC Bong boy - but no, since he's spent 24 of his 34 years out of India, I don't consider him a Bong in any sense of the term. Hell, most of my childhood buddies would hardly consider me a Bong. SS for one, though no childhood friend of mine, habitually says I have no "cul-chaar" (culture), as befitting a true Bong. (I like my sex much too much, and I have no fashion sense, he says. :)

So, no, I haven't had much luck with the Bengalis in the city. According to a survey, Bongs account for only 45% of Calcutta's population, and even with those statistics, its gay inhabitants are by and large unpalatable. There was this hunk who buzzed me on Manjam's chatroom, and after ogling his pecs for five minutes, he told me he was Punjabi, recently moved to the city. Then there was another Salt Lake inhabitant who is a Bombayite, desperately seeking doable men. After a brief chat with him, I realized that the IT and Call Centre Boom in Calcutta has thankfully aided its gay fauna - we now have cute men from Delhi, Gurgaon, Bombay, Hyderabad and Bangalore in the City of Joy, all trying their very best to spread some gay cheer.



With four days left till I leave Calcutta, and only one sexual escapade since I arrived, I'm certainly cheering from the front rows here! :)

Delhi Diary: Day 3

Delhi Diary: Day 3 - Back in Bombay's Rains

Dear Diary,

So I'm back in Bombay, and yes it's raining here. :) Not the puny droplets that were coming down, five minutes interval between each droplet, this afternoon at CP in Delhi. :) There are some times I really love this city...!

I'm glad I came back home after the wedding/ party, cuz otherwise I'd have missed seeing Chimneypot this morning: she left for work at eleven, but not before we had a nice looong chat about careers and love lives. :) She rustled up some great omelette, which we mopped up with good ole Bambaiyya pav bread and strong tea.



Really didn't have much to do today. My flight was scheduled for 8 p.m., so I didn't want to go too far. Finally decided on a jaunt to CP, some trawling through old haunts, and maybe a boy in bed. :) That was actually pretty much how it happened. Milkshake at Keventer's, window-shopping at Fabindia, peering through the CCD where I used to hang out a lot, detour through Palika, and a metro ride to Karol Bagh to meet this guy I'd been chatting with online for quite some time. He turned out to be as great between the sheets as he'd been telling me, but then I had to dash right back home to pick up my bags and run for the airport.

Ummm.. so, ok, the stoooopid flight only took off around 9.30 p.m.

Delhi Diary: Day 2

Delhi Diary: Day 2 - Backache, Sex, Wedding, Party, Sex

Dear Diary,

Delhi is a H-O-T city. And not just in terms of the men. The temperature is hiiiiigh - even when it's supposed to be the rainy season here. SnowWhite's StepMother called up and told me that Bombay was drowning in the rain on Saturday, and I replied, I was sweating bullets all night - could hardly sleep. Chimneypot's boyfriend was going out out of town though, so she said I could sleep with her on the bed that night - frankly, I had other ideas about where/how to spend my Sunday night! *grin*



But apart from my wanton plans of sleeping around, it was kinda sweet, watching the hetero couple in action. The boyfriend had a backache, and Chimneypot fussed over him, snapped at him for being careless, mollycoddled him - all in one instant. :) Eggs Benedict for him, and leftover vindaloo too, and then we called the cab to take him to the airport. Chimneypot had to work, and I was alone now. Was supposed to meet Mizfit and Soul in the evening, so I decided to take a nap before that. As it turns out, I oversleep and miss meeting them again! *damn* Decide, it's time to make myself feel better, so I try some Delhi Diversion - half an hour later, I'm in an auto rickshaw to Connaught Place for some much-needed Punjabi nookie! :)

But of course, Sunday night is the Big Night, so that had to be cut short. It's Diamond Choker Baccha's sistah's shaadi, and Flyboy and I have come all the way from Bombay to ogle at the Punju baraat. *grin* So it's time to take out the kurta, swish out the dupatta, and hail a cab for the wedding. Not too bad really, we picked out about 4 cute guys in all, and decided that the pasta was yummy. Cute snaps, great socializing, and it was time for me to run again. I had another party to attend.

So it's past 1 a.m., and I find myself in a South Delhi neighbourhood, hunting for the apartment where the party's happening. I'm here to meet Ponytail Boy, and when I finally do see him, I grin at his dimples. He's looking uttery gorgeous in a shiny Benetton tee, and he doesn't make fun of my flouncy kurta-dupatta thing. :)



It's a fun party, with some very cool Delhi gay people, and soon Ponytail Boy and I are necking on the couch. We decide to be a bit polite for the other guests after a while - and shift to the john. Maybe not as romantic as in the sleepover last trip to Delhi, but then this one was more of "I-need-to-tear-your-clothes-off-now" lust happening here.

And while that felt sexy and exciting, I felt... cheated about that while going home. I know he was sad - and preoccupied. I know and can understand why he was. And while the sex felt fabulous, I somehow felt like I was a diversion at the end of it all. And no, that I don't like. Thought I'd speak to him, tell him how I felt - especially since I consider him way more than just the Delhi f&ck-buddy - but I didn't. I came back home - again, waking up poor Chimneypot... and slept.

Delhi Diary: Day 1

Delhi Diary: Day 1 - 'No Monsoon Here, But It Does Rain...!'

Dear Diary,

The weekend holiday didn't exactly get off to a 'flying start' as intended - and that sorry pun was unintended. My flight was delayed three hours, so by the time I reach Delhi, it's 4 a.m. in the frikkin' morning. So I hail a cabbie, and knock on Chimneypot's door in the wee hours of the morning. A quick hug, and it's off to bed. *yawn*

The next day was all about Bonding with Chimneypot. :) I might not see her in a while, so we decided to spend all day doing fun stuff. Of course, Fun Stuff was delayed, cuz ma'amselle took ages at the beauty parlour *grumble* but then we were off to the American Diner at the India Habitat Centre - one of my favourite-est places in Delhi! :) Soaked on Peanut Butter Malt, Hogged on French Toast and Eggs and Bacon, and splurged on Brownies. *burp* Ok, fine, so yes, the 'phat plan' isn't going very well, sue me!



Brunch was followed by shopping at Dilli Haat - another old favourite of mine. Bought silver earrings for mum and something nice for brother dah-ling. There had been grand plans to do the Saturday night gay party at Concorde with Mizfit and Soul, but then those plans fell through as Concorde decided not to have a party that night, since there was some rain-dance thingy happening at some seedy farmhouse on the outskirts of Delhi - and apparently, all my friends are too shareef to go there. *damn* Anyhow, Chimneypot, her boyfriend and I decide to have a fun stay-at-home night, and we shopped for groceries. Soon, we're downing glasses of chilled red wine, watching Helen Mirren in The Queen (awesome!) and smacking our lips at the great vindaloo Chimneypot rustled up!

Aaaa... but that was till the phone rang.

First Love on the phone. I'd sms-ed him earlier, and here he was, asking me out for a walk. I smiled to myself, remembering what the walk on my last Delhi trip had led to, and rushed out after finishing dinner. He was there, waiting at the appointed spot, looking as cute as ever, and we strolled over to the ole park again, talking and laughing and flirting. And yes, we went back to his apartment building and had sex in the dark, on the stairwell again. :) This time, it was kinda expected - is that why the thrill wasn't really there? Aaa, but he's cute, all the same - exactly what you would expect from a gay Delhi boy. I walked back home, a little light on my feet, and woke up Chimneypot from her slumber again. :)

Diplomatic Immunity

Diplomatic Immunity

On my way to town Saturday morning, and I'm on the phone with the Penguin. As the train courses its way along the Western Line, he and I end up talking about, well, men. I tell him about the extraordinarily hot Australian guy who I'd met the night before (and who's legacy - chapped and sore lips - are still with me, even as I write this), and the Penguin was guffawing as I described why I like Australians... and it's not just because of their terribly cute accents and the fact that they love kangaroos.

Penguin: "You know, you could become a Gay Cultural Ambassador or something for us, CT..."



CT, grinning modestly while the train chugs along: "Well, if you think that I can help good ole gay folks in any way..." *giggles*

Penguin: "So, is there any country you haven't done? Do tell!"

CT, exercising weak memory cells: "Well, of course there are loads of countries I haven't seen, you know....

I mean, I was glad I did the Pakistani at the Sheraton the other week because that was really really fun and good for neighbourly affection and all that - plus, cuz he was a Punjabi Tiger (if ever they exist!) in the sack - but I haven't really done a Bangladeshi. In our immediate circle of influence, I've also done a Sri Lankan - during the Chennai years, you know - but not up north. No Nepali or Bhutanese...

Never thought I'd be attracted to Chinese men, but then there was that hot guy from Hong Kong who was here on an exchange programme in Andheri West, and he was a pretty vigorous top. Then there was the American of Chinese descent who was a completely great bottom, very smooth, very energetic, very... yummy. And I'm sure it doesn't really count, but then this Aussie fellow lives in Jakarta, so maybe that covers a bit of South East Asia, though not as much as I'd like to...

Americans are the easiest of them all, of course. I mean, they travel to India (and especially Bombay) like anything. Spiritual Upliftment or whatever upliftment - *giggle* LA boys are cute and hot, hot rugged men from the north are very sexy, NYC guys are bindaas like Bombay Boys, and hell, one meets tonnes of Canadians online also - so, am sure I'll do one of those pretty soon.

London's like the S&M capital of the world, you know. It's quite overtaken Amsterdam and all. I mean, I did have this beefy German flight attendant who liked a fair degree of BDSM, but I looove the Brit boys for their sheer versatility - they love it hard and fast, and they also like a good amount of vanilla. The French are pretty sweet and gentle - this one I went out on a date was like the most generous ever - and no, I'm not a hooker... yet! There was the cute Spanish guy in Delhi - very adorable accent, and a powerhouse between the sheets (as if either of us covered up during our encounter - hah!) And the Italian that time in the Hyatt was also damn sweet - and very long lasting too! *shy grin* Had this Swede once, living in Australia, and yes, they are right about colder climates and longer appendages, you know.

O, and did I forget the cute guy from Dubai who was down here from London? The word is Y-U-M-M-Y. :)..."



Penguin, chortling now: "I repeat my question: Is there any country you haven't done?"

CT, ponders: "O, well, of course I haven't done anyone out of Africa, you know. Never had the opportunity to try 'Once you go Black, you never go back', so I don't know about that. And like I said, I want to expand my South East Asian horizons. Russians - now, that's a breed I'd like to examine in detail - Russians and East Europeans. I mean, let's try some Bel Ami for real now! and o, yes, South America... Any country would do. Peru or Brazil. I think Cuba would be nice too."

Penguin agrees: "Cuba would be nice!"

CT sighs: "A nice long puff on a smouldering Cuban cigar... oops, was I profane now?" *grin*

Anyhow, so later that evening, I meet the Family for dinner at Lokhandwalla, and the first thing I do on seeing the Penguin is grin and amble over to him. "You remember that list we discussed this morning? Well, you can scratch Africa and South America off that list, da-ling!"

Penguin looks speculatively at me, a bit afraid of what to expect, but delightedly thrilled as well.

Closetalk, grinning broader now: "African descent from Venezuella! Two birds with one stone!"

Closetalk Conquers Delhi

Closetalk Conquers Delhi

After all the sobbing about misplaced anniversaries , I decided I needed a break. So I packed my bags, convinced my boss there was urgent work required at our Delhi office and I was the only superhero who could handle it, and left for the capitol.

There were days of preparations prior to the trip: most tourists scour the travel websites for places to visit, while I, having lived in saddi dilli and well versed with its lanes and by-lanes, decided to embark on tourism of another kind. So there was Closetalk in the chatrooms of gay.com, gaydar, guys4men and all the rest, buzzing the Delhi boys, informing them of an impending cyclone and a torrid lust affair with Bombay that was soon to hit them. I compiled a list of 11 hopefuls.



The idea was to go about my conquest of Delhi in an orderly fashion. That was how the Rajputs conquered Delhi. That was how the Aibaks and the ud-Dins conquered Delhi. That was how the Mughals conquered Delhi. That was how the Brits conquered Delhi. And that was how Closetalk was going to conquer Delhi.

So I started at Central Delhi, called up my old friend/lover, the Ponytail Boy and got to work. We had an excellent date at this quiet restaurant in Connaught Place, got suitably high on red wine and knee-rubs against the table, and then drove over to his place. As the cold biting wind cut through the open window I muttered how Delhiites ever get the urge to procreate in the cold - to which Ponytail Boy came up with the simple truth: never heard of body heat?

Ooo, he showed me enough of body heat, though, as we copulated all night. The fact that we left the next day for some utterly sweet pancakes with dollops of maple syrup on top for a late brunch just made the episode more memorable.

I bumped into Ponytail Boy again a couple days later when my friends and I hit Pegs 'N' Pints, Delhi's answer to GB parties, and of course we did loads of grinding on the dance floor. But I had my eyes fixed on the American that night, so I didn't go back home with Ponytail Boy again. And though I got busy with work/socializing/regular sightseeing for the next few days, I decided to resume my exploration of Delhi with quaint little Hauz Khas and a sturdy as-burly-as-you-can-get Punjabi Doc.



Punjabi Doc comes from a rich merchant family who own shops in Hauz Khas, and after the infamous Delhi sealing drive, they were forced to let these premises lie unused. Well, not exactly unused, since they now constituted Punjabi Doc's love nest. So, while I was supposed to meet Lil Mizfit later that night at South Extension, I decided to make a stopover at the Punjabi Doc's love nest.

The thrill was quite exhibitionist really: picture a basement shopping space below a very busy complex on top, and we climb down, where the windows are quite apart, with only glass panes, so that if anyone walking on the road overhead knelt down and peered through, they would be able to see the two of us panting and groaning. Body heat came to the rescue again, as Punjabi Doc unrolled some bedding onto the cold floor, and before long the doctor was giving me some much-needed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. After a couple of hours, flushed and happy with a great after-sex glow, I meet the Mizfit for coffee and soon we're discussing the lesbian ways of entrapment. Fascinating discussion...

Round three in Delhi, and I sms my first love: hey, strange to think I'm living in your neighbourhood here for awhile. Don't really know what I was thinking, when I messaged him, but he replied back and said he was out with pals, but would like to meet up for a walk later that night. So, while a party was in full swing at the Chimneypot's place, I took a short hop to the park where he was waiting for me.

Surprise surprise, he was actually looking damn cute since the last time I saw him, and we started walking over and over and over around the block. Walked through the park, got chased by stray dogs, kissed in the shadows passionately while hiding from the lurking neighbourhood watchmen, till he finally got the bright idea to take me to his building. It's 3 am at night now, and the two of us climb up the stairs to his landing and go ballistic. This is Exhibitionist Thrill in capitol letters, as we got buck naked on the landing and were soon hot and heavy at it. Fond memories of making love to each other for hours at a stretch earlier, but then those kind of memories don't really have much of a place when you're that aroused and excited, so we took our own sweet time, careful not to grunt or moan too much, highly excited at the thought of discovery and scared too, and I finally make my way back to the Chimneypot's place in the wee hours of the morning, my legs still rubbery. He said, I was the first one he ever loved, and while it all felt good to hear that, I'm not walking down that path again.



Finally, my last day in Delhi came knocking, and I had a brunch date with a cute Spanish guy from Manila at Costa Coffee. Coffee was excellent, and it was better because I knew things were soon going to get steamy...! Thrashed around in the Spanish guy's hotel room for what seemed like ages, till we were both satisfied and then we were out sightseeing - time to watch another great erection: the Qutub Minar. Maybe it was the subject or maybe it was the company, but by the end of of our sightseeing trip, I was up for a second round, and we hightailed it back to his hotel for a quickie before I caught my flight. And while we hurried it up this time, an hour later I was left ruing why we did, because my flight was declared two hours late at the airport.

Waiting at the airport, I sms NatureBoy the woes of my life: only four different guys from a list of 11! The dear boy told me I mustn't be too hard on myself and my standards tend to be much too high for normal mortals like him to follow suit and well, that made me feel marginally better. And like a good little boy who's completely innocent, I decided I must come back and prop up this poor little neglected blog of mine.

Lest anyone think from the whiny post earlier, as was told by a blog reader to a close friends that The Closet is "bottomish and ditsy". (Private joke revealed)