A Childhood Nightmare

There are some things you want to run away as far as you can; but still cant. Every time you try to run away from it, it just comes back searing at you. And the worst you can have in such memories are the memories of abuse you endured while you were a child. This is my story of a scar that has lived with me forever.

The story begins when I was a child - much before I achieved puberty. I must have been 10 years old when the thunder struck me for the first time. During vacation times we would go to our relative's place - and one such place that I would go was to my grand mother's place. I loved being there as I was very fond of my uncles and aunts. They liked me and pampered me to a great extent. Every time I was there, I was treated like a star - wanted, loved and cared. One of my uncles had a special liking towards me - he would play with me, take me out, and I was in awe of him. He was probably 10-12 years older than me, and everything that I aspired to be. Him being handsome and loved by everyone in the family made me wish if  I could be like him when I grew up.

It was one rainy night when as usual I went to sleep with him in the night. Summer rains in Kerala are truly God's gift - as it allowed for the scorching summer temperatures to come down. Every night that we would sleep together, we would talk about a lot of things - from my studies to my friends to what games we would play the next day to the places he would take me to. Soon I fell asleep. The next thing I remember was something crawling over my tummy sliding towards my groin. I didnt realise what was happening there. To my absolute alarm I realised that it was my uncle's palms that were probing me. Soon it went inside the shorts that I was wearing and started playing around with the little one inside - rolling and massaging it.

I was in shock and was probably traumatized. I didnt know what I need to do, and was probably scared of him. Those were the days when you were not taught whats good touch and whats bad touch in school. Neither did my parents talk about these at home - afterall we are talking about something that happened thirty five years back, and the world was a lot more ignorant then. Unaware of what was happening to me, I kept silent. The massaging and the rolling went on for some time, and the only memory I have of that moment is that I was feeling ticklish. My little one had become stronger and I felt as if I want to pee. But after some time, he either stopped or I fell asleep. The next morning when I woke up, I felt shy and I felt as if something has it me and I am completely unaware.

The same story started to repeat itself day after day. He always ensured that I slept with him; and the trust and commanding power he had with everyone else  ensured that he always got his way with me. As the activity went along over days, I started making some sounds as it happened - and I still dont know whether it was out of frustration, anger or because I had started to feel it. Afterall, at 10-12, you are at the doorsteps of puberty. A few days later in front of few of my family including my mom, I said that I didnt want to sleep with him because he was touching my little one. I dont know what happened, because noone seemed to take it seriously. It appeared as if it was another subject for family small talk. Did he manipulate the conversation, or did others feel threatened to question him resulting in that discussion never ever given the importance it required - I will never know.

The after effect of that conversation not happening was that I went into a shell on this. At that young age, I told myself that whatever was happening was not a problem; maybe I am making it an issue. The aura that he had forced me to yield over to him - for the years to follow. When he would kiss me on my cheeks I thought it was his love that he was showering upon me; I was naïve at that point in time to realise that it was anything but love. I felt nothing for the next few years; but deep inside me, there was a different me that was growing up - a persona that I would be struggling with for the rest of my life.. The only things I am thankful for - if I can call it, would be that he never tried to brutalize me at that young age. If that too had happened...

Dreaming Of Death

There are days when you wake up onto a nightmare - all sweaty and catching your breath in a panicky state. You open your eyes not realising what exactly has hit you; and sometimes those nightmares are so bad that they linger along for ever. One of the worst nightmares that you can have is that of your own death. Nothing scares and rattles you like your own death. No matter what people say about being prepared, death is one big unknown. I believe you can never be prepared for death. There would always be far too many things that are incomplete at any given point in time.

Yesterday morning was one such. Bangalore mornings are a bliss - even during the summers. But now its well past the summer and the weather early morning is incredibly pleasant. I woke up to a nightmare - that of my own death. I wanted to scream and shout out, but nothing was coming out. It was suffocating. I wanted to move; but couldn't. I tried to wriggle out, but all in vain. I slowly realised that I was dead. I wanted to let out a loud scream, but nothing came out of my mouth. Finally, death has embraced me.

That was when I jumped up on my bed. Phew! That was a nightmare. I was relieved that I was not dead. I thought I was prepared to die; but looks like I was not. Least to say, I was disturbed out of all of this. All day I was wondering why I had such a dream. There has to be a reason for this. When in doubt, Google. As I looked on the internet for reasons behind the dream, I got the answers. And how correct they were.

Apparently the dream of death happens when you go through a traumatic experience, and you are unable to cope with it. Him leaving has been traumatic to say the least. I have been struggling through days on this with no end in sight. Maybe my subconscious mind is reacting to the mental trauma that I am going through. This is now becoming nasty; and I need to find answers quickly. Else I would actually die, and when that happens, I would realise that it was not a nightmare... 

The Elephant In The Room

Let me talk about the big elephant in the room that I have been avoiding all along – depression. I have heard people talk about the importance of not neglecting mental health. But you tend to ignore it always – right? As long as a problem actually hits you, that is not a problem. Naïve thought process like – it would happen to only the weak; I am strong enough to get over my problems if any; there is no way its going to happen to me – those were strongly imbibed in me. And I truly believed that I am immune to that; I felt strongly that even if bad things are to happen to me, I will get over them in no time. How wrong I was?

It was all fine till last ten days or so – till the day he was to travel away. All of a sudden I felt that the earth was crashing down on me. From being confident, I rapidly fell onto being listless and hopeless – all in a span of just a few hours. It was building up inside me into a crescendo, and to my complete alarm I could do nothing. All bravado and confidence had evaporated. I was feeling lonely and left out; fears started getting the better of me, and I was not sure what I am supposed to do. It felt as if a jolt of current has gone through you. I want to move; but cant. I want to think; but cant. I want to speak; but cant. The only thing that was happening was happening uncontrollably – eyes would well up and tears roll down my cheeks even when I try to control myself.

I thought this was the worst. But I was wrong there as well. This was just the beginning. By the time it was evening on the same day, my mind was completely out of control. I wanted to divert my mind; and so took my cycle and started riding. Went to the top of a hill that I generally go once in a while riding like a maniac. I thought that could calm my nerves – but no, it didn’t. I reached back home riding in the rain all drenched. I wanted to inflict pain on myself – all be it inadvertently. I am not thinking right. By that time I had completely lost the sense and purpose of living. He moving on was turning out to be too much to handle. Then came the lowest point of them all – I went to my terrace, and I wanted to fall down from there and possibly die. I wanted to run away from my pain and not face the life after. This entire experience was suffocating me.

In a flash the image of him and my family came up. My kids – what would they do with out me? Him – what a torture it would be for him if he is to know the state of my mind? My wife and parents – do they deserve the pain that I would be inflicting upon them with my actions? That was probably the turning point. I realized that I was going through a path of self destruction; and I needed to do something to get my mind over it. I had to find a way to divert my mind – and then I randomly booked some movie – at least those two or three hours I would have my mind diverted. It was not a movie to write anything about – but it brought me down from the erratic nature of my thoughts at least of the time being. Once I reached home back from the movie, it was back to the same – I was worried, anxious and helpless.

I couldn’t sleep. I rolled over the bed for hours trying to sleep. When that was becoming a pain, I went and sat in my balcony staring at the darkness around me; and somewhere in between close to the dawn I fell asleep on my chair in the balcony. As the morning sun was up, so was I. I would have slept for an hour or two; and my head was buzzing. It was clear to me that things are not right; but I found myself in a hopeless opposition where I could do nothing to fix it. But then, what was happening to me?

More than a week has passed by from that dreadful day. The hurt still lingers; the pain still sustains. I have tried to suppress it through these days. But I know I am just delaying the inevitable. Some day I will lose control of my mind – and that would be the day when I cease to be myself.. Its just a matter of time. I know I need to get some help; and I have started looking out for help.. Hopefully it comes in time for me..

The Fine Line

Life is all about the margins - the fine lines that differentiates what is right and wrong. Sometimes these lines are so blurred that its almost impossible to segregate. Most of the things you do in a confused state fall in that blurred path - where its almost impossible to be sure whether you are in the right side or wrong. What that results in is utter confusion - you do things assuming they are right, but they end up being the absolutely wrong thing to do.

Past few days have been anything but hard. But I have to admit that things are improving. He has helped me in a big way to get over this pain. That is giving me this space to think. The clouds are slowly drifting away, and there is some semblance of sunshine peeping in from somewhere in my head. As I move along, I am increasingly starting to ask one thing to myself - am I selfish to expect someone else to give up on his happiness for me. Doesn't love in its purest form mean sacrificing oneself and his dreams for the sake of others? If that is indeed the case, even the thought of him having to give up on his happiness for me would amount to selfishness, right? Or is it OK to hope and aspire while in love? I guess the lines are really blurred here.

That thought is what troubles me more these days. Can I call my feelings for him as love, if I am selfish about it? I am in this eternally confused state now - where I am not able to figure out what is it that I want; what is it that I have in my head? I want to believe that I am in love with him; and that love is what is making me selfish - wanting more of that from him. But then selfishness wont go hand in hand with love - in my eyes, love in its purest form has to be selfless. You should be able to overcome your angst and emotions for the sake of the other person - and that too without any regrets.

I opened up in front of him yesterday; and I cried in front of someone else after many many years. Actually I cant remember when was the last time I cried in front of someone. I am very good at holding back my tears; but yesterday the dam was breached. I choked and the tears rolled as I opened up in front of him. I told him how miserable I have been in the past week or so. Needless to say, that made him disturbed even further. And all day today I was asking myself one question - was that my worst selfish moment in the recent times? I want him for myself; but at what cost? Is my want for him depriving of his happiness. Am I snatching the smiles from his face.

These are supposed to be the happy days for him. But what am I doing with all these whines that I do to him? I dont know if I breached the fine line yesterday. Does he love me or hate me for inflicting this much pain? Some lines are not to be crossed - especially to the ones you love. Unfortunately for me, those boundaries are so blurred that I still dont know if I breached them..

My Story With Him - 1 - The Beginning

It was the beginning of the summer of 2021. The previous few months had been very tough on me - a covid infection that almost ripped out the last bit of life left from me, a job that was increasingly becoming difficult to manage, and all the post covid complications. I had become positive around Christmas, and had a dreadful period leading onto the New Year when I had almost given up on life - so much so that I was sure that I was going to die. I guess the person writing my script up above had other plans, and I managed to survive the dreaded disease. A few weeks of recovery in Kerala, and I was back in the garden city living the old life. 

By March the physical effects from covid were almost gone, but the mental scars remained. Most people dont realise the mental and emotional toll that covid takes. I was at my rock bottom by that time - my confidence was all gone; and I was feeling very lonely. The fact that I was alone in Bangalore with my family staying put in Kerala didnt help either. Evenings after work were dreadful as I would stare into the empty house, and images of those days when I was fighting the disease for survival would come back to haunt me regularly.

That was when I was pinged one evening by a random account on my fake Facebook account. It started with just a simple "Hi" - like umpteen of them that I would get. Afterall these fake Facebook accounts resembles fishing. These "Hi" are the hooks that are dangled for fish to latch on to. Generally I would ignore those messages. But this time I decided to respond back with another "Hi". I still remember the date - its was March 27. Little did I realise my response that night was going to change my life for ever. That account was offline and I was not expecting anything to go forward; there are far too many chats like that in my Facebook account.

Two days went bye, and I had forgotten about it, And then on the night of March 30, I was parsing through the various erotic stuff that you get to read on Facebook on that fake account of mine. All of a sudden I had a message. It was in response to the previous "Hi" that I had sent out. Having nothing else to do that night, I started responding to his messages. He was a VG - obviously a fake id as mine. But there was something special in the way he spoke. It didnt take long for sparks to fly, and the chat session had almost covered three hours. I was literally engrossed and addicted in that conversation. Everything under the sun came up for discussion - there were equally good number of topics on which we agreed and disagreed; but never a dull moment all the while.

It was well past midnight, and sleep was starting to get the better of me. As I said I am feeling sleepy, he mentioned he would like to exchange numbers. I was never a proactive person when it comes to sharing my identity or phone number. And honestly, I was not planning to give him my number that night - no way I am handing over my number to a person whom I met online just a few hours now. By that time he had shared his number. It was one of those ouch moments - now that I have his number, what would he feel if I were not to share mine. But the fear that I am always wrapped in forced me not to share mine.

I had fear; at the same time I had curiosity as well. I had saved his number as a random name on my phone. The inquisitive me was out to find out who he is - I opened the social media apps - Whatsapp and Telegram just to see if he had a display picture in either of them. There was nothing in Whatsapp; and I was strangely disappointed. Telegram was something that was not used extensively; so I had no hopes of getting a display picture there. But my curiosity forced me to open that app, and to my absolute surprise there was a picture of him as a display snap. OMG!!! He was dead drop gorgeous. Have I hit a jackpot? It was always difficult to find someone who matched your wavelength in these fake Facebook profiles. I had found one; and as an added bonus he happens to be seriously handsome as well.

My fear and apprehensions dissipated in absolutely no time. It was replaced by an insatiable urge to befriend him. But then I had said that I am afraid to share my details to him. How do I change my stand now? I had to find a way by which he asks for the same. Somewhere I had realised that he was as scared as me about being opened up. I wrote to him that he was handsome. He didnt expect that from me. I told him that I have seen him from his Telegram display picture. Sheepishly he realised that I was telling the truth; and he asked me if I could share my snap now that I have seen him. I was just waiting for that. I scurried through all the snaps that I had of mine, and sent him the best one of mine. Phew!!! I am exposed in front of him as well. The perpetually scared human being that I am, it should have worried me. In turn I was excited. A surge of energy was sweeping through me.

That night when I called it a day, I was flying. I was happy as crazy. I know then itself that I had stumbled upon something very special. And how right I was on that!!!

Flashback Of The Happy Days

As I struggle through the upheaval in my life over the past few days, I realize how wonderful it has been with him over the past one year. I might sound like a broken record now; but the last one year with him has given me so much good times that were denied to me all these years. It took me all of 43 years to find the one thing I was searching for - to be in love with a man - be loved unconditionally; to be able to open up to someone without any apprehensions. All these years I have been living a dual life; and when he walked in to my life, I finally had someone to whom I could be myself. For a suffocated life, that was something. I guess I got lucky with him; else there was nothing that would have him in my life.

The journey that started with a simple "hi" on my fake Facebook account, went on to become the single most important thing in my life. The fact that he is married like me, and goes through similar questions in life did help. From being casual in conversations, over the past fourteen months or so, he became my go to man every time I found myself in distress. The anonymity gives you a confidence to open up. I spoke to him about things that I have never ever opened up. The secrets that were locked in the deep chambers inside me were unraveled with absolute confidence in front of him. I was no longer afraid of being exposed in front of some one. From being apprehensive, I wanted him to know everything about me. Opening up completely did help me significantly - it helped me to have my keeper of secrets. If there is anyone whom I can call as soulmate - it was him.

Being in the forties, I was apprehensive of everything. I was longing for person whom I could call mine. Every once in a while when I came across gay couples, I would go jealous of them. They are getting to live a life I always wanted; but never could. It was one of those bitter sweet moments - I was happy and jealous at the same time. I was getting desperate in life - given up hope that anything good can happen. I was telling myself that I would end up as someone who never felt the happiness in life its supposed to be. Dual life is never easy - especially if it involves suppressing your happiness. 

That is when he walked in. He made every second feel worth it. With him, I was in heaven. Time always flew by. I could talk or chat with him for ever. Subjects were at plenty - the biggest irony of it all being that sex never came in as a subject. I guess sex would be the least spoken subject between us - it could have come up only a handful of times. From politics to life issues to issues with our wives and families - every thing came up. I could bluntly open myself up. He would criticize me; call me out when he felt so; and I did the same to him. But surprisingly we never fought. We always found a way to agree to disagree. He never forced me to change my opinions or ideas; neither did I. It was such a beautiful thing that existed between the two of us. It was the perfect match - I provided what he wanted; he was exactly what I wanted. Those were the happy days - indeed they were the happy days...

Somewhere I should chronicle down those happy days. I don't think I will ever get those days again. Life doesn't get you to be happy multiple times. Something tells me that my quota of happy times are done... And when I move myself back into the dark days when I am all alone, the only thing that would probably help me reminisce might be those chronicles!!! 

The Transition Phase

I believe every sorry event in life happens across multiple stages. First is the state of absolute shock when you get to know that something bad is going to happen - the dreaded news phase. Then is the anticipation phase when you braise yourself for the impact - you try to teach yourself that you can get through this event. Then comes a phase - the happening phase; when the event eventually happens. That is probably the most torturous of them all, when you realize that no matter how much you tried to train yourself, it has all ended in vain. You are completely distraught at this point in time. Then is the transition phase where you start to accept the reality, and try to adjust yourself with the new norm. And final phase is which I call as the move-on phase,  is when you completely accept the new reality in your life; you count your losses and start to think of what is there in your life.

I guess I must be in the transition phase now. The happening phase had been really dreadful - much more than what I thought. All my confidence that I will ride through this nightmare just evaporated in no time. I realised that no matter how much I postured, I was just a mere mortal. All the false bravado was good for nothing, as I just realised how vulnerable I am. Such is the power of love. The fear of losing out love is much more than anything that you can imagine. I was in complete mess as I find myself hopeless and helpless like never before. If my pillows could speak, they would have told story of torrents of tears that flowed which made them soaked. But then life has to continue. So a couple of days back I told myself that its time to get into the next phase - the transition phase.

Somewhere I realised that he understood I was in a bad space. The nice guy decided to walk along with me in these; and not be left alone. And how thankful I am for that. Calls and chats from the UK was on full steam; and he was trying to convince me that irrespective of the distance, he was there for me. I would be untruthful if I said it had no impact. It cushioned things for me for sure. I opened up like anything yesterday when our chat went well beyond midnight. But deep inside I know - this is just a step up to the move on phase. All this comfort that he is providing me, is it just stretching the inevitable? However much I want to believe that we have a future, I for sure can read the writing on the wall - its a different thing that I am refusing to read it. Living in denial is not going to help me for sure. Its just pushing the inevitable. My only worry is that the amount of hurt that I would have to endure when it eventually happens - that might be too much for me.

There is something that made me worry a lot more. These days I came very close to figuring out what depression is. Though I was no where close to being in that state, whatever I was in - it was scary. When I was at the terrace a couple of days back - even if its for a fraction of a second a thought came into my mind - what if I fall down the twelve floors? Do I want to live with this pain? I had a dream of me deliberately driving into a bus coming in the opposite direction. Why did I even think like that? Why did I have dreams like that? This was probably the lowest point in my life. I never thought that I would be in this state of mind ever in my life. Then his face and faces of my family came in for me. What would they have to go through if I did anything stupid like what the scenes that were getting enacted in my brain? I guess that is what turned me back from the brink - one of the most important parts of the transition phase.

I am trying to tell myself - I have to start thinking of moving on. I want to accept the new reality in life; but can't. I seem to be stuck for ever in this transition phase. Every moment with him is coming back in my mind, and it tells me just one thing - how badly I love him, and how badly I need to have him in my life. Unfortunately I have no control on my want to have him in my life - there is a reason why long distance relationships don't work...