A Peppy Pastor- A Gay Love Story

Somewhere in New York, 2016

Pastor Eric had a lot in his mind. The day he started his sermon at this quaint village of Aniyada, he knew that something was wrong. That man, he reminded him of someone. And he had been having a lot of dreams that made him want to give up his calling. But then when he was poor, going days without food, he knew that this was the only way he could provide for his family. But his family was not something he could boast about. The money he got from the ministry was often spent like water. His sisters needed new dresses and his mother needed something for already decked up house. His father needed it for alcohol and he, who supposedly changed people's lives, couldn't change his family. What he did believe that, one day they will.

"You should find a nice girl and get married. People rely more on married pastors".
His mother always had these suggestions that didn't concern her. But then did she actually know what he wanted?

"You should know that you don't make sense mom. You know that I never want to get married".

But girls were flocking in his church. He got lame psychological monologues from teenagers, who batted their eyes more than they spoke. It was uncomfortable. The odd part was the he was not interested in women.

A fact that didn't scare him at all. Or shame him. All he knew that he loved one man all his life. The man who had made his heart flutter and when he died, cancer eating his body away, he knew that he could never be the same. Only God gave him solace.

And that was 18 years ago. He was 41 now and still good looking. If he wanted to find someone, he would. But the days went by slowly, and evenings his heart hurt.

Then he saw him. A young man, sitting with everyone, staring at him with devotion that he was so used to.

"Can I speak with you after sermon?"

Pastor Eric shivered. Half excited to see a familiar face and half scared that his dream would break.

"I do not have a free evening...I'll let you know when we can talk".

And just looking at him, he could find solace. And he looked so young. Hardly 18.

He shrugged and walked away.

Eric was known as a exuberant, peppy kind of a person. He knew how to raise someone's spirits and make them smile. He was happy to help, forget his sadness and that mattered.

"I know you have been avoiding me Pastor. But I really need to talk to you".

"Fine", it was uncomfortable and they walked into his office.

"I have a girlfriend".

Okay. That took time to digest.

"And we have vowed to wait for...you know...".

Eris sat back, rubbing his forehead, "For sex? You are doing the right thing. Is that all?" he almost got up.

"No I mean, we want to. Its not like we are going to get married".

"At least you are honest. What do you want from me?"

"That you convince me not to. To wait?"

"Uh, yes...Umm..."

The young boy sat back, folded his hands, "You know your face looks familiar like I have seen your earlier. But I was always in this town. I don't know..."

We were friends, lovers, soul mates, Eric wanted to say. But he kept mum.

"You know sex is a weird thing. You want to do it for the heck of it. You know that its something everyone is doing and your girlfriend so hot that you can't keep your hands off but you also know that you need to do the right thing. So discuss. If you think you want to do it then know that you put your heart and soul to it. Because sex is just a physical thing. It will fade. The connection wouldn't".

"Your are right", the boy seemed reluctant to go, "Can I see you again?"

"Of course", Eric didn't want to know the details, "Use protection of course".

He did know that the young people were doing it, despite him saying its wrong before marriage. But it was better to advise it this way.

"You know you have a certain thing about you that makes me wanna break up with my girlfriend", the boy laughed. It was forced and he sounded scared.

"I am a man of God. And that's all i am ever going to be".

Eric watched him go. He knew that he was going to come back. Yet he knew that he was going to leave the city and apply for transfer.
Some love stories are meant to end.

This blog post is inspired by the blogging marathon hosted on IndiBlogger for the launch of the #Fantastico Zica from Tata Motors. You can apply for a test drive of the hatchback Zica today.

Diary Of A Mom- A Transgender Short Story

1996: I am a mother. No one can change my status. Unless I break away from my only child. My son, who wants to be something he is not. How can he suddenly become my daughter? I always wanted a son, a tough one, who would look after me when i grow old. Bring a beautiful wife home who would bear me grandchildren, but he is not going to follow the rules. He is going to become a woman who likes men. 

I come from a traditional Bihari family. I had a mother who married me off to the first man who saw me. He is alright I guess. The first time I saw him was on our wedding night. I didn't love him then but I had dreams of a beautiful life as all women do. He didn't love me either. Slowly but steadily our relationship fixated on our only son. I couldn't bear more children because of my cystitis. He never complained but I felt incomplete without a houseful of children. Debu, as we fondly called him. He grew up with the girls in the colony. I always found him playing with dolls and sometimes make-up that the neighbouring aunt had displayed on her dressing. It was adorable when he was 2 then alarming when he turned 8 and slowly I felt a loss of the son I once thought he was. He is 15 now. Already great with studies, only he is unhappy. I see it in his eyes. My husband is planning move away from this familiar neighbourhood I had so come to love. The only other family I thought was mine. 

2000:  Debu wants to study abroad. He already wears girly clothes, shaves minutely and has long hair. He also walks like a woman. It is a habit for me now. But my husband hates it. He is tired of yelling now. And the new neighbourhood is not suspicious yet. It was difficult to make friends at my age and the shame! I do not get out much at all. The kitchen becomes my havan but I don't like cooking at all. 

2005: I met Debu in a hospital. He tried to kill himself. His wrists were slashed and his face had thinned. The ridicule and the shame lingered in the air. He never got to go abroad and study. Instead he was left on the streets. We never looked back. The doctor recommended a psychologist and we told him, he is not mad. He just wants to be a girl. The doctor insists and we give in. The counselling starts as soon as he gets up from bed. My husband refuses to accompany him.

2011: Debu brings a boy home. His father died of a heart attack in his absence. I still didn't think about love when he passed away. It was a relief. And we still got the house. Deb continues to live with me now. He has applied for nursing. He gets rejected twice but he doesn't give in. I think life has taught him to be strong. He has seen more in life than i could imagine. Me? I just get out of home more often and kind of proud of my little Debu, who isn't little anymore. 

2015: Debu is a doctor now. I sold the house and moved in with my ageing parents. They do not mind and my mother is glad for some company. My daughter now specialises in inducing anaesthesia. I never thought she had it in her. But then I never thought I would say this. She lives with her companion, who is a professor in the University of Wisconsin. Debu still sends me money. It's more than I could spend but I keep it. 

The postman arrives. 

He gives me a heavy envelope. 

My Visa is here. I am to join my daughter soon. 

Love At A Coffee Shop- A Transgender Story

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

She looked at me frankly and curious too. I found her enchanting. She had long hair, wavy but ended in curls, blond highlights that might have faded away to a dull finish now. Her eyes were small with a button like nose and a mouth that held the most beautiful smile. I turned over on my seat and blinked at my image staring back at me in the mirror. 
I could see the woman who was hiding behind manly clothes, waiting for everyone to see me as just that. How could anyone know how i felt? A woman. A man. Or both?
I just knew that down inside I was born to be a woman. 
The cup of coffee getting cold beneath my fingers as I fidgeted with a broken pencil, just like my broken spirit. I still had the previous evening to write but the writer in me didn't. I just wanted sit back in my chair and finish the book. I wish it was a romance because if anything that I needed in my life was just love. My parents are still unaware. They think that I am their little boy. My face was changing too and with the hormone supplement, I was feeling sensitive and teary-eyed often.
"Do you mind if I sit with you? The entire coffee shop seems to be filled with young students", the man sat without my consent and I looked away, not wanting to meet his eyes. 
"Sure", I muttered, still staring into my book.
"Would you like another coffee? I don't see that consumable now", he was trying to be light. Trying to laugh but I didn't know how to react. I was wary of his friendliness.
"No. I am fine".
After a few minutes of silence, I found him staring at me, and mostly trying to peep into my book. 
"You haven't written a word since you are here. Do you want to borrow a pen?"
He handed out an expensive looking pen at me, "Take it. It won't bite".
I took it without hesitation. Will that shut him up? I was staring at him now. He was a handsome guy. Not in a model like of way. He had a receding hairline but his eyes and face had an open endearing look that I could not imagine anyone saying 'No' to him. He wore a simple blue stripped shirt with rolled up sleeves, showing off his very tanned wrists and fingers that seemed to clench and unclench over his cup of coffee. He had long fingers and his body was bulky as if he worked out in the gym.
"Would you mind if I tell you that you are one of the most pretty faces I have ever seen in a long time?"
I didn't mind at all.
"I get that a lot".
Even when I dressed as a man. I got that compliment. Not handsome. Pretty. And I glowed under my mother's disapproving eyes.
"You should let me buy you a coffee".
"No thanks. I have a doctor's appointment and I can't really have much of caffeine with my prescription".
My voice had change through time now. Six months! And I did deliberately tone my voice down, try to sound like a girl.
"You look fit to me..."
I wanted to tell him everything and stop this useless flirtation. I am not what you think I am. I am a transgender. But still a woman who wants to come out in this world and be herself.
But I just got up and left, leaving behind a romance that could have been mine. 

A year later

Same Coffee Shop.

I held my book in my hands. Finished. Published and open in front of the entire world now. The publisher had been excited to get this manuscript, said that India was getting into this 'Pride' moment. This is what it needed. I could literally see the dollar signs in his eyes. And I wasn't too unhappy about my royalty check too. I was independent now. I could afford that sex change operation now. My parents were still coming to terms with my sexuality and I was coming to terms with my life at the moment. I was twenty now. Studying in the college where I used to be a boy. 

"Can I get an autograph, Ms Writer?"
I picked up the pen for another signature. Nina. That was the name I had chosen from Niel. 
"Red suits you".
I looked up and saw him again. He still had the same lazy smile as if it hadn't shocked him.
"Hi again", I said shyly, "So now you know and you can hate me. I am used to it".
"Would it shock you if you if I asked you for a coffee now?"
I lost my voice.
"I mean after you are done with the event. Let's get to know each other again. Man or woman, I really find you intriguing".
And I said yes. It felt freeing. And I felt like I was flying already. 

A Rainbow On The Other Side- A Gay Love Story

When he took her hands in his, he knew that it was already too late. Or was it? He was going to tell her the truth though. Almost five years and they still couldn't conceive. And it was not fair lying now. But she was glowing tonight as if hiding a delicious secret and she stood, tip toed and kissed his mouth roughly, welcoming him home. That was what he loved about this woman, she made his life complete.

"I have the something to tell you", she said before he could say anything more.
He saw the suitcase before he opened his mouth. It was outside the bedroom, in blue four wheeler, small and seemed to be neatly packed. They hardly took any trips outside their home town and his mother being a permanent guest in their home, they never got the time alone they needed.
"Are we going some where?"
"No, I am going. You are going to stay here", she sounded clam and the curls on her forehead bounced as she stood in front of his, her hands neatly folded in the pleats of her saree.
"I am leaving you".
"Is it because of my problem?" He knew that he could't give her a baby and that made her bitter over time, "because please don't go", He didn't know how to plead because his heart was breaking.
Her eyes were sweeping away, hiding the tears, "It was never the baby. I saw you with him".
He sucked in sharply and stared into her eyes, "Again?"
"I know that you...like men".
He looked around frantically, hoping that his mother didn't overhear.
"She knows", as if on cue she answered, "And it's okay. You should have never married me and I shouldn't have pretended that our life was anything but normal".
He winced, "But I love you".
"You don't want me. We have wasted too many years together. It's time to find our path. And you accept for who you are".
He still couldn't say it out loud. He was ashamed. The secrecy kept him sane and this was anything but normal. And wasn't he thinking that he was being so clever?

He saw her leave. He knew that her family wasn't going to like it but he was not going to stop her. He saw his phone and it was buzzing again. He wanted to meet him again. That shady bar that he always went when he wanted to be himself. Now he switched it off. And went to talk to his mother. It was time that they talked things out. He was going to find someone who loved him for himself. But before that he had to love himself.

This Story was written for #Indispire under Indiblogger. The theme is #Loveinspiration