Strong and robust but always gentle he was young, easy to arouse. A small child exploring an adult’s nakedness. It also gave me a sense of power and control. What was a curious child to do? Touch, naturally. When aroused they unfolded their loincloths and revealed their massive, throbbing masculine magnificence. When I sat in their laps it aroused them. Oh, why were they always so tender, so gentle? Was it because they were uneducated peasants and didn’t know the mind games people play in urban cities? They were tall men and I was a little boy. They treated me like a flower or a piece of china with love, care, tenderness and always with respect. As if they sensed I was love-sensitive and willing to receive it. They hugged me for hours holding me against their big hairy comforting chests, without undressing. I was the landlord’s healthy, beautiful boy, innocent and vulnerable and ‘open’ to peasant love. The strong, hunky, young peasants who tilled my father’s lands. Sometimes I imagine I am getting married, songs and music and guests, I’m signing marriage papers and wondering what happened to my soul? I thought I could love the way I wanted to and make love to a person I desired, who was not forced upon me. They take their wives to parties but their eyes widen at the sight of good-looking men. Will it be eternal fantasy? I see all the gay-married-men (GMM) and feel sorry for the double lives the GMM live. At the most people will have a quick anonymous humping in the sack and that too with a fake name then never see each other again.Īlthough I just want to smile and say, “I prefer men,” when I am badgered to get married but I do wonder what my love life will be like.
That is fine but the constant state of “withdrawal” does not help people to open up with each other and bond. So how come instead of liberating themselves they are meekly walking to the gallows of marriage? Everyone is paranoid about being found out or talked about and desperately wants to identify with the “straight” hetro-crowd. Isn’t education meant to enlighten one’s mind? The big cities of Pakistan are teeming with “foreign educated” people. He loved me back.Įven on local internet chats men balk once they realize they are chatting to another male and quickly close the window with, “I’m male and not gay.” Topic of sex hadn’t even come up. All I did was look in his eyes and smile. Even a mild flirtation comes with a dose of guilt as if I had considered robbing a bank. No one (except some super-flamboyant effeminate queens) and nothing gay is “out” or “open”. It was all right then yet today when I am a grown up, handsome man with a degree and a lot of exposure to different cultures why being gay is considered almost a curse?įorget about gay bars, discos and entire gay cruising districts (there are none in this country) I have enough problems trying not to drown in the flood of social, cultural, religious taboos. A naked thigh, chest or armpit made my heart beat faster. My foggy childhood memories are warm with tender hugs from grown-up adult men. My fascination for the male body goes a long way back to Kindergarten. When people, especially homophobic males, talk disparagingly of gays or use slurs, I cannot understand it because it is not a habit I acquired.
I’m gay, have always been and probably will remain so. To be gay, Muslim and Pakistani isn’t one of the best combinations in the world. Three stories are presented here that revealĭifferent aspects of gay life in Pakistan. Curiously, Pakistani law appears to tolerate male-to-female transgenders/cross dressers (hijras) and it is generally safe to be so. Internet liaisons and clandestine boyfriends are typical of the ‘scene’ in this Muslim country.
There is a gay subculture in Pakistan but it is virtually invisible and exists only by word of mouth and in furtive situations–in nighttime parks, discrete parties and in one’s imagination or memory. Three native Pakistani men write about living inside their sexually ambivalent culture where gay men live behind masks and love in secret.