A closet is perhaps the safest space, no wonder everyone is comfortable hiding there. I take pride in myself for being out and open. However, the journey of “finding myself” has been completely different from what it looks like now. My best friend’s mother always knew my love for him and was really apprehensive about it too. This is something I got to know over a random drinking session with him when he confessed that he overheard his mother and wife talking about it.

I was aware that his wife always knew. He was surely taken aback by these unexpressed feelings of mine, as he was another cis alpha male. But the later evening was spent exactly like the others, with a lot of gossip and unsolicited life plans.

I moved to two schools but never understood why everyone treated me the same; differently. Yes, I have always been a very quiet and calm kid, both in my school and at home. It is also because my mother did not allow me to step out much to play outside with other kids as she had a fear that I’d get spoiled and learn the wrong etiquette.

The understanding of mockery came pretty slowly to me. During my junior school years, I was name-called female or sixer (which translates to chakka in Hindi, which means transgender). Well, I never paid much attention to it as I could not relate those words to myself, but I also knew that it was not right. I was not really an effeminate guy, but yes, there was a certain softness to my approach that broke the stereotypical portrayal of a cis man in this patriarchal society. My only refuge was in Music, Dance and Fine Arts; and yes, even their teachers didn’t look down upon me or judge me. So, I submersed myself in those whenever there was free time so that no one could talk to me much.

The first shock of my life hit me hard when I had to change my school during my secondary (class seventh) due to the family’s financial crunch. Though this school spoke my native language, it was hard to understand them. The narrow-mindedness of the students was directly proportional to the teachers, and that was the only place where they matched. I, now migrating from an English-speaking school, landed up at a place where using this language in your regular communication seemed to align.

I did not know how to fit myself into this block. And here again, I became a centre of discussion for a few days. With time, the conversation further narrowed down back to my sexuality. I was further given more names, and this time it hit me really bad as they were raw and sounded really brutal. A lady, who happened to be our English teacher, always had my back.

On the day, during the class, she overheard someone calling me ladies. She simply asked the boy to stand up and give a valid reason for calling me by that name, to which he said, “Ma’am, he is always found hanging around girls, and he doesn’t even play any game. So all the boys in school call him by this name. I’m not the only one. She simply smiled and said firmly, “He knows how to greet and talk to a lady, and hence the girls are comfortable talking to him, which you guys fail to do.

She asked him to take the seat and advised the class not to ever call me by that name, but deep down I knew it was not the end. A few weeks later, it was early morning before the assembly, and I was asked by a few bullies from my class to follow them into the boy’s washroom. I was scared but had no other option but to follow them. I was taken to one of the loos and was asked to remove my pants. They wanted to ensure and confirm to the other boys that I was man enough and had the necessary tools to call myself one.

That was possibly the first time I felt so humiliated in my life. This left a real impact on my memory. During the mid-year of my secondary board session, I almost wanted to give up on my life. I did not go to school for a couple of days and honestly did not even want to go further. I wrote a letter (yes, I did not grow up in the cellular generation) to my so-called best friend about my feelings and the reason for not coming to school. Somehow the letter reached my English teacher and was read aloud in front of the class.

Later that evening, my friend came home to deliver me an apology greeting signed by my whole class. If I think about it now, that apology really didn’t matter, but then I had no other option than to move on. Honestly, the approach and behaviour of the kids had certainly changed towards me, but it wasn’t rubbed out from their minds. This will sound funny, but now they started giving me advice on how to man up. Well, gradually I crossed the hurdle of school and reached college. In this journey so far, the best takeaway was the guy I met during the final year of high school, who I now call my best friend.

Growing up as an 80s kid came with its own set of challenges. The narrow societal vision of gender did not even spare me during college. I was called a more unique name like Gur, Chawal, and whatnot. Well, I was just learning more slang of my own mockery. To be honest, I became more resilient towards that attitude. Slowly, he was also learning the art of neglecting what was not necessary.

As I was in an evening college, I started working during the daytime and after the lectures, I used to spend time with my mains. With time, those bruises were layered up by their love and care. I was still a straight man, taking part in discussing and admiring women. Yes, puberty hit us long back.

We graduated and started the next phase of our life. My best friend, parallel to my knowledge, was seeing someone. The day he confessed, even I had a self-confession. The possessiveness of that truly made me realize that I was in love with my best friend, a man. A man I had known for almost six years now. A man I had never before even thought of in a romantic way. But there I was, in love.

Well, it took me one wrong relationship with a woman a few years after my graduation to understand that I have an inclination towards both sexes. The touch of a man was not new to me. I was touched many times and was even comforted by a man’s hand whom I used to call and respect as an uncle during my adolescence. After the breakup, I made a fake profile on Facebook and started talking to men. From there I got to know about Planet Romeo (formerly men-4-men), a dating app for gay men.

There I met someone who opened the Pandora’s box of my identity quest. Growing up in a non-technical world, exploring and understanding yourself was next to impossible. The fear of society and getting judged stopped me from asking questions. But virtually, I had all the liberty to be who I wanted to be. The more I grew, the more I learned and developed a sense of self-respect. And slowly I accepted myself for who I truly was.

By now, I was out to my close-knit. It was this man, who came much later in my life, who gave me the courage to stand out straight, holding his hand; and shout out to the world loud and clear that “I am GAY”. When my parents got to know about it (indeed another great story), they were dead against it.

Mom cried for months and still tries to convince me to marry a girl whenever possible. Even that guy got married to a woman under family pressure, but I thank him for everything that he left behind. And especially making space for the man who really deserves it.

Even though the country is free from the abomination of a brutal law, homophobia is still a norm. Loving is still taboo. And when I walk out on the road, for them I’m still a straight man. It’s a slow process but it’s we who have to make people understand so that the coming generations will be able to take pride in who they are – because closets are for clothes, not
for you and me.”

– Ankur Mondal