For the Love of a Man

I would like to tell my dear friends struggling with their fears and phobias, dilemma’s and conflicts that I have dared – dared to put my life on paper. My struggles, shame, sorrow and sexuality have spilled on the pages of this autobiographical book, like blood from a severed artery. Fear squeezed my heart with icy fingers while doubts roasted me alive on a slow fire yet, I persevered. There were valiant smiles even as my tongue tasted the salt of my tears and my teeth drew blood from my lip in an attempt to hold back the sobs but I did not give up. Eventually this blood-letting proved cathartic.

You may ask what have I gained from such indecent exposure of an intensely private life? Emotional closure, healing of festering sores, seeping out of bitterness, forgiveness for those who hurt me and those I hurt, to name a few peace-restoring miracles. You may wonder why anyone would be interested in a life as ordinary as mine. Though biographies of great men make worthy reads, lives of people like you and me are the stuff stories are made of. We are the unsung/unheard heroes whose silent struggles, failures and victories remain buried under the mundane. By unearthing one such story, I want you to know that each of us carry our private hell within us. How we deal with it determines, not only our present, our future but colours memories of the past. All I ask of you is to tread the path I travelled, bear what I have borne, pass through the storms that passed through me, live the lives I’ve lived, before you judge me or condemn.

What I have done may not be sanctioned by society or religion, but for me, living a lie was the worst of all sins. I dared to live life on my own terms and if things went horribly awry, I paid the price unflinchingly. At least I have no regrets. Questions like ‘What if I had done things differently?’ ‘What if I had the courage to…?’ do not torture me. My tortures were of a different kind – of commission rather than of omission. If I were given a chance to live life all over again, except for one major act of submission, I would not have done a thing differently. Coming to think of it, if I had defied my parents to follow my heart, my life story would not have been the same. That one major ‘if…’ still haunts me.

If any of you would like to share your lifestory with me, unburden your heart, cry on my shoulders you are more than welcome.