Khabun is a tamil youth. He has curly black hair, almond shaped brown eyes. He is the son of a grocer from a small town. He is very gifted for music but has difficulties to finance his studies and is under the spell of his fathers petty bourgeois prejudices. In his unconsciousness he is like many of us bisexual and is struggling against prejudices and false religious barriers, against unscrupulous sex tourists to come out. Until he finds his angel, too. He tells his story:
I am in my room. Shib has just told me that he is Billy's new friend. Shib, my brother, of whom I am in charge. What will I tell my father. He, who is president of the Christian Circle in our little town. If I tell him that Shib is the faggot of Billy he will kill me and Shib and all of Billy's family. In the first aspect I got a fist and tried to kill Shib. But then Billy appeared, out of nowhere, and together they calmed me down. I hid in my room. Lay on my bed. Cried. I'll never again go back to my parents. I can't think of facing my father who even took a credit to pay me a part of my studies. Still, I wouldn't have been able to subsist at the school if Billy, an English student had not taken me to him as a sort of servant. I did not have to pay for the room and could live freely with Billy. But soon I realised, heard from rumours spread by the others, that he wanted more from me. The friend he had had before me had assumedly given him more pleasure. I leave it to you to conclude what sort of pleasure. Some fellow students looked at me in a compassionate way, others truly furious. I couldn't any longer stand this. Neither could I bring myself to give it to him. The atmosphere was poisoned, and I got ill and could no longer attend the courses. It was anyhow nearly the end of the fourth term. Billy visited me in the sick chambers. He told that he would take the plane to his family. Before leaving he charged me to look for a pal for him. He was angry that I did not comply and told me that he did not want to wait any longer. Either I got him a substitute for what I should be for him or he would throw me out.I went home alone, deliberately avoiding the society of Madhu who came from the same village. I did not know what to do next. I was angry of anybody, of my father who couldn't pay my studies, of Billy, who had no patience. My secret love, Sushila, had had a child and gone away one night, secretly, before being thrown out by our town community. The baby was not from me. She had deluded me too and I did not want to know anything from her also her mother had told me, crying, that she had gone to work in a hotel in Gandhi Nagra near Madras. I wanted to give up my studies, tried to get work as a farm hand as I can do nothing besides playing my instrument. But after countless tries I gave up. The peasants told me in kind words that they did not trust that my will to do something which is not music would last. And they find that I am a weakling and will not have the force necessary. I am angry but in my inner feeling I have to give them right. I am neither fish nor bird. I assume I do not have the financial means to achieve making my "gift" to my job and, and sometimes I even doubt I really have a gift. I despise these petty material jobs, just to earn your living doing whatever you hate and waiting for the day to end and the pay check to come. Walking back from the last peasant who turned me down, I met Shib, my younger brother. I was in tears. He was sympathetic in his girlish fashion he displays. He asked me what had happened. And I told him. He gave me a kiss and happily nobody saw it. Then he asked me if I wanted him to come along to help me to find a friend for Billy. He even begged me to go with me. He wanted to know the University and my fellow students. And I idiot got a weak heart and helped him! From his first word he had in mind to deceive me. But I did not realize it. And now I am finished.
Tamin, the man on the moon
I sit in my room, sobbing, not thinking of anything for countless hours. I see and hear nothing of Billy and Shib. In the end I get up, deciding to look for a woman, any woman. I dress quickly and get out like Shib, who has to leave the house when he can't sleep. I walk out of the hotel compound, then along the street, running away from myself, looking for a woman, thinking of Sushila, trying to remember what I was told about where she would work next, a hotel in Gandhi Nagar, as if I could find her now, walking around at night, as if although I would find the correct site, she would be waiting there for me, all night, ready for me.Despite the late hour, the road is still crowded. Men and women walking or sitting on chairs along the road, talking together, the merchants shouting to sell their wares, Riksha drivers zigzagging in between. And everywhere the children playing and running between our legs. I imagine how it would be, sitting together with Sushila on the edge of the road, holding hands, enjoying watching small Amit playing under our legs while we kiss each other. And when Amit comes and asks me why there is a man standing on the moon. I could tell him my story of Tamin who was sent to the moon as Gavor breathed upon him with his trunk because he wanted to tell him that people who are not satisfied doing a material job don't belong on this nice earth. Enjoying, while Amit looks at me with his big, enquiring brown eyes, the jealous regards of the ones who can't have a family. But as it is, I am one of the jealous and if I even become a musician as I wish it, I'll never be rich enough to support a family. At least that's what my parents and all our family friends think. Probably righteously. There is no hope that I can make a career like Ravi Shankgar. I am not good enough and don't want to sell me over to others. If only I could be happy like my father as a merchant selling soap and peaches to voluminous chatty bourgeois women, counting my money each evening. But I am difficult, as my father always says, not happy with the things which are allowed to people of my caste. The road gets darker and less crowded. It is too far and I begin to suspect myself of not looking for a woman to enjoy with but a man to abuse and kill me. Am I looking for the man who proposed to me during the International Youth Festival or another like him? I don't trust myself anymore, maybe I would say yes and enter the car, let him do whatever he wants, doing what he wants, what Billy asked for, secretly hoping that he would in the end, after abusing me, after dirtying every single molecule of my body, after dirtying my senses, feelings, my consciousness, that he would satisfy his passion by killing me in the most revolting and painful fashion, throwing my body out of the car and speeding away, a body so mangled that the police would give up all hope of ever attaching a name to it. Then I would have no other problems. Or at least to make me by force equal to Billy and Shib, to destroy by force that stupid part of honour which makes me different. But nobody wants me, no car is stopping for me, not a taxi looking for passengers, nothing.It's become pitch dark. The moon is only a small peak far away. I walk on the dusty sidewalk and later on the edge of the road, the yellow light yellows the black metalled road. It is like three desires stumbling on, the desire for a woman, the desire to become like Billy and Shib, and finally, too late, a desire to be nothing, which looks at the other two desires and walk in front of a lorry and get crushed. I'm too tired to think and still the words are hounding me, name, sex, age, state and country, father's name, native place, caste, subcaste, language, hair and eye colour, features, are all barking at me, to be this and that, like this, like that, I want to turn around and shout at them, 'fuck off'. I thought I'm steering the bicycle of my life but both wheels are running in a deep rut and if I can't follow it I'll fall for sure and if I manage to follow it I'll fall probably too. Just never say no.
After the river there is no sidewalk anymore, along the Gardens of Gandhi Nagar. I imagine what the man would have done to me or asked me to do, and in my imagination I let him do it. It becomes so vivid I have to close my eyes, to see and experience it fully, to agree more, to debase myself better. When I find an empty bench outside the entrance of the Gardens I stretch myself out on it, to dream with closed eyes, forcing myself to imagine myself doing whatever abject act I have ever heard of or I'm able to think of, and not only to do it but to want to do it, imagining the man to be the most ugly person I've ever seen, probing with my tongue his every cavity until there is simply nothing left to imagine, until I'm satisfying myself by digging around in his entrails, killing him and still not satisfied, rubbing myself against the slippery interior parts of his body, his blood is all around me, all over me and in the end it's just a feeling. But the nicest part is when he enters me, this is the only real shock, everything else may be more or less disgusting, but to feel him inside me, and though I'm cheating, feeling him as I imagine a woman feels a man, is the best part. Or the worst? I don't know. The memory of what didn't happen between the man and me is more real than if it would have happened. That it didn't happen doesn't matter, I wanted it and would have done it. What remains of it in my memory is more clear than if I had entered the car, had let him make me drunk and then half unconscious would have let him satisfy himself with my lifeless body. I wanted to do it and in the future I will do it, I'll never say no again.
The hooded ghost
I sleep for some time, and when I get up I'm changed, 'cool', ready to say yes to anything. What a pity that no car is stopping! I look around and suddenly shudder. A hooded person is sitting on the far edge of the bench. He just simply sits there, meditating. I startle, intimidated after what I dreamt of, sit upright. Never did I experience so realistically my dreams come true. Is that an angel sent by Vishna? As a punishment for my dirty thoughts! But on consideration it is more probably somebody who wants to have fun with me even by raping me. This area is known as a meeting place for faggots. In far bygone days there was here a temple for the Goddess and then for Vishnu. Unconsciously I stopped here. In the Goddess’ day, they say, even small boys acted as priests and did things in trance which you don't utter without becoming red. I shudder. Is that one of the boys having come back? Discreetly I look around. Nobody is here. Nobody to help me if I am assaulted. I panic. Try to get up. And now the figure speaks. "Are you not well?" I'm too perplexed. I can't speak. Then he continues, impertinently: "Do you have somewhere to sleep?" As if inviting me to come with me. According to his speaking he is a Vellakharan. What does he want to do to me? He lifts his hood. He is not only a vellakharan but on top of everything, old. Not as old as my father, but at least twice my age. Furrows on his forehead and some silver hair between his dark brown ones. Maybe he is even carrying a hairpiece, he looks so well groomed. With big eyes he looks at me. In the light they sparkle in deep blue and brown. I feel like I would be a nice woman he fell in love with. I calm down. With this looks he will not do anything to me. And suddenly I make up my mind. There is no reason staying in this mood. Maybe Vishna wants me to love men. He has sent me this Vellakharan to replace Billy I lost so gullibly. Vellakharans, especially old ones, are rich. I am a poor church mouse. But if I want to life from what I can, from music, I need money. I can bring him if I am nice to me to give me the money I need and the natural justice will be done through Vishnu. He is old but not ugly if you are not too choisy. He has long black curly hair and if you look well some blue in his eyes. Very special. This is help sent to me by Vishnu. I have to grasp it.I think of my position, of my possibilities. And that I am so dependent on an old rich vellakharan. And the tears emerge automatically. My head falls on his shoulders . "I'm so unhappy." I utter between the sobs. "My best friend loves my brother. I have nobody to sleep with at nights." I hope he does not realise the lie I tell him. My aversions I have to this kind of sexual intercourse. But I just described an ambiguous relation, he can take it as he wishes. But he is just as I thought he would be. An old, rich, disgusting Vellakharan and perverted. But I have no great choice. Besides I am no longer as young as the type boy these people are mad upon. He looks at me. His hand feels my body as if he were blind. He pets my hair. Disgusting! I nearly shrink back. Have to pull myself together. I have to hold out. Play the trick. Nevertheless, his voice sounds very kind, I think. He says: "Don't you want to come to me. I am living not far from here." I look around. All very modern buildings for the rich. For capitalist or vellakharans. At least he must have money. I must cling to him if I want to get the cash to finish my studies and pay back my debts. Nobody knows when Billy will tell me to go away because now he has Shib. There is nothing to loose. My parents will throw me out if they hear of my friendship with Sushilla. He says again: "You are beautiful. I like you." I suppose he is like Billy. Is vain and likes it when you make compliments about his looks. As if by accident my hand touches his neck. And I say sobbing between my teeth nearly not audible: "You're so beautiful..." I stop. Did I get red because of this lie. He may be not as ugly as other ancient ones, but beautiful? I don't think so. But he hasn't realised my hesitation. It works! "Follow me." he says. But I keep back. I do not take his outstretched hand. Go one or two steps behind him. We pass the entrance to the building. The doorkeeper doesn't look weel, he sleeps probably, he nods with his head. Why else would he let pass an Indian in these vellakharan flats. But then I realise he must get bridal money. This chap probably brings dozens of boys like me. Probably even younger ones. The flat he has is really very nice. Never did I see such nice furniture. This kind of carpets. Of fine wool and with colourful geometric musters. And a lot of pictures hanging on the wall. I look at a piece of a relief of an Indian temple exhibited just above the chimney (Who needs a chimney here in Madras? It's colonial snobbism’s!) A wooden relief from a temple. Bodies winding themselves and doing love with one another. Regarding more intently I realise they are boys! They look slim and fine and wind their body out of joint as if they were women. But they are men, there is no doubt. From the time before the missionaries told us that God hates men behaving like women. Disgusting. I have to keep myself together. For pecuniary reasons I want to rouse this feeling of love with him. But this sculpture nearly incites me to vomit. The vellakharan goes into the kitchen. He comes back with a whole plate of cold meat, cheese and bread. But I am vegetarian! Not very appreciative of our Indian culture. I only drink a sip of water. And of course I have to spit it on the floor. It's club soda. How should I behave. There are certain things I can't stand. But he soon realises that something is not as it should be. He says: "You don't like it? My Indian friends like meat here in spite of their religion. Please come with me to the kitchen." In the kitchen I take a passion fruit and that is all. I am no longer hungry, after looking at this disgusting relief destroying our cultural moral ethics anf which seems to seek my attention. He goes back to the sitting room. Sits down. "Please do sit down." he says. I squat down before him, massage his legs. I hope he will accept me. He pulls his legs back, and pushes the seat back. I look at him. What doesn't please him now? He says: "I am Ramon Gandarian, the Nobel prize writer. You certainly know my books about the misery especially of the third world. I do not want to use you for one night. I wish we might be friends for ever and not only for this night." I wasn't prepared for this. And I don't know his books. It doesn't concern me. Nobel Prize winners? Why not the winner of the Guiness Prize for eating a ton of spaghetti. We have no time and money to read books! In the newspapers you read only of publications of politicians. What really does he want? To be a friend. I, a friend to a pervert? My mind can't accept this. I cry, against my will. Again he pats my head. I recoil. And he stops. He goes down on his knees besides me. "You are so beautiful. But you don't trust me." He consider some length. Then he sighs. He continues: "You are neither hungry nor thirsty. Are you so tired. I so much long to sleep with you. To feel you besides me. But you shudder. I realise, you do not want it, you have an aversion against me." I don't say anything. I simply sod. I couldn't delude him, he has seen through me. Don't budge, I say to myself. There are barriers before he throws me out. I simply stay. Finally he sighs and says, looking into my eyes: "There is a separate chamber. I'll take you to it. " I don't understand. Why doesn't he throw me out? Now he thinks that I do not want what he took me for. I panic. My whole scheme is about to fail. How can I persuade him that I am seriously wanting him. But nothing comes to my mind and I remain silent. I look away, to get time, again towards the sculpture. And my look goes over the table. On the table there is a newspaper. I see it perfectly. A photograph of an elder vellakharan with a youth of my age. The youth carries a violin. A commentary is written. I don't understand it. Ramon sees that I am looking at the newspaper. I take the possibility, ask: "Oh, could you translate this for me? Is that you?" "Oh!" He looks perplexed. If it does embarrass him and I shouldn't have seen it, he should not have put it here in sight of everybody. But I am now persuaded of his aims inviting me. And I am not the only one in his life. After some consideration he says: "José is so gifted. But hadn't it been for me, he would still be a prostitute in Mexico or even killed by the Mafia." I can't believe him. Why denigrate somebody as prostitute? Does he think I am one too. But it's my fault. I was sitting on a bench in the appropriate aria. I want to protest. But he continues, before I can say anything: "He is such a good violinist. I've bought him an Indian violin here as gift. I will soon go back to Rome and bring it to him." Ha, now I know, this is an Italian sex tourist. But he stands up and goes to a black case which leans against the wall. Opens and unpacks a wonderful cythar. Vellakharans have so much money. They are buying out whole India. Despite my aversion to this Ramon I am attracted by this instrument. I go to it. "Can I try." "Of course, go on." I touch the wood with my fingers, run over the strings. It sounds so nice and I never felt such a nice instrument. I sit down on the floor, try some scales. Then suddenly I become enthusiastic. Not aware of who's beside me I play a full raga, with much embroidery. But who cares, he is a foreigner, he knows nothing. His mouth falls open. "But you are an artist. You play like Ravi Krishna." (As if Ravi Krishna could play. He simply impresses non-Indians.) "Can you teach me?" He picks the instrument from me, and plays a scale. Like a beginner, of course, but still, it's something. I am impressed. He is also trying to understand our culture, not only to buy it out. Perhaps he is not such a bad vellakharan as I thought. "The friend I went with to buy the instrument, showed me how to play it. Of course. it's nothing. But it's a beginning. And probably I am too old. I'm only a vellakaran." He now used the word. I would never have dared to call him like this. He gets up. Looks at his watch, like these Vellakaran are always looking at. They have a craving to know the time. As if they were anxious to know exactly how much time they pass in this world and never forget when they will have to leave it. I must look at this watch. It is a beautiful watch, gold case, rectangular. He realises that I look. He turns the dial around, and there is another similar watch on the back. I look and look and don't realising that he is making fun of me. He has such an inscrutable smile on his lips. I stop and look somewhere else. Now he searches my glance. And looks at my watch. "Let's do something to seal our friendship." He suddenly says. "Show me your watch." I take it from my wrist, present it to him and he looks at it." It is an Indian watch. Very colourful, with our wheel on it and in our colours. He says: "Let's exchange our watches." I can't accept. My watch is certainly not as costly as his. It would indebt me to him. And I don't want that. I try to put it the diplomatic way. "You have such a nice watch. It's probably much more expensive as the one I received from Billy. It's an Indian watch. And yours seems to be a handmade Swiss watch as Billy had one. And this one is enough for me." Now it's out. Why did I say it? I have given it away, that I already know another Vellakaran. Because Billy is no Indian name. How can I continue to act as if I were completely innocent about vellakharans. And play the virgin. He will think that I want to sue him for more. Will he throw me out? I look my most innocent look hoping he will forgive me. But what do I have to be forgiven for? But my fears were wrong. He doesn't budge, does as if I had said nothing. Looks at me, scrutinising. What is it now? He says: "Did you want an Indian watch. The Swiss watch on Billy's wrist looked so tempting? And he gave you an Indian watch. I'm Swiss, I'm a fan of watches. Your's an Indian watch. I never had an Indian watch till now and it will always remind me of you. Besides I find it nicer than mine." So funny. A cheap Indian watch, because Billy didn't buy me an expensive one! I laugh. He sighs. "You are so beautiful. Especially when you laugh. Why do you always fend me back. Please do agree at least to this exchange, only to give me a little satisfaction." Now he laughs. I'm unprepared. His laugh disconcerts me. Does he make fun of me. You never know what these vellakaran think. I am uncertain. My heart agrees, it's such a nice watch, he has, he says it's special, it has initials and a Swiss cross engraved on the back of it. But with my mind I am sceptic. He makes a bad exchange. I cannot give him what he wants. Even if I wanted I couldn't jump over the shadows of the petty bourgeois prejudices of my parents. And anyhow. As an average Indian boy I'm not to wear such watches. It is showy and snob and does not fit me. But he doesn't seem to mind. It's funny, he seems to bathe in money even more than the other Vellakharans. But to please him I can take it. Probably he will come back to lhis offer later on when he realises what a bad deal he makes. But his love has made me suspicious. He knows my situation. And knows more about me than I myself know. Probably he even realised I wanted to cheat him for petty cash. But he doesn't show that he knows. For the moment he plays the game. I can't step back for the moment. There is too much at stake and I would loose everything and would be back to suicidal thinking. Never again. I swear to myself. I agree to the barter. We take off our watches, I give mine to him, he looks at it, seems enthusiastic. Nobody can understand these vellakharans who have too much money! Then he goes to his desk, writes out a check about 2'000 Dollars. He must be mad. He puts it into my pocket. I can't accept it. It's too much. But he leads me into his sleeping room and kisses me on my mouth. Without warning. Is that all he wanted from me? No. While kissing his hands slip over my whole body. When his hand comes to my fly, I recoil. It comes automatically, I can not control it. Also my mind tells me to let me go. I crave not to be recalcitrant, to do everything he wants, not to make the same mistakes I made with Billy. He paid quite royally for this small affair. Obviously he is like all other vellakarans. He assumes that with money he can ask for everything. But in my mind I decided to satisfy him. I need a patron. Or I'll have to do a material job. And I think, if others can do it, why do I have these barriers. But I can't suppress my aversion. He sighs and stops. "Sorry, I don't want to hurt your pride. I accept your decision. Or.." and he smiles, "shall we take the tarot." I do not know what a "Tarot" is, therefore I am at a loss. But he doesn't wait for my answer. He grabs into his trousers and gets a set of cards. They are no playing cards, but are nicely painted. He puts a silken cloth on the table, puts the cards on it so only the back is visible and mixes them. "Feel with your fingers and take one." I do as he says. The card I take is rather shocking. Two men marrying and a angel with wings behind them. In the front two baby boys, one black the other white, with there thing in full view. Shocking and racist. Crudely sketched in a Western fashion. He radiates. "You see. We are made one for another." He says triumphantly. "Unconsciously you opted for the right thing." It's so cheap. I am speechless. It corresponds to the relief with the naked boys. I ask:" Who invented this ridiculous thing?" He laughs: "Nobody invented it. It s an old wisdom of the gypsies who came from your country. I am also here to find out about these." "What, I say, this whole voyage? But about which? About the gypsies? It's ridiculous There is no Shangri La in Tibet and there is no gypsy culture in India." Is he raving mad? Because he says: "How do you know about this. It's well possible that the sources of the Hyksos culture comes from India..." He begins, and I begin to fear that I fell on one of these New World tourists. I wanted to know what "Hyksos" means, but I don't ask. I do not want to get involved. But he continues: "If you are interested I will tell you." "No, no." I say. "Don't loose your time." A long time we look at each other, saying nothing, and I begin to hope that he understands and throws me out. But no. At last he sighs. "Well. I understand. It goes to far for you. You dont like me. I wont continue. Still please remain here. I won't harass you with Hyksos and neither with asking sex from you. Just simply allow me to ask from you to undress and lay naked besides me, it would be so nice to feel your beautiful body against mine. Your skin is so tender. You smell so wonderfully." Now I can't hold back any longer. I burst out. "Is that so about your Hyksos. They have to see each other naked to be friends." The look he throws at me let's me stop at once. I feel ashamed. I wanted to do as if I liked what he does to get his help. But I can't accept it. My barriers are too high. I hope that he will perceive my attempt to delusion, and throw me out and with right. So it won't have been my fault that it didn't work between us. But he has no ears to hear. I must provoke him more. Or there could be one more issue for me. They all like the sadistic side of it. And I will have a clean conscience. I'll try it with this. I say: "Don't you have cuffs. Bind me on the bed posts and take me." But the remark makes it even worst. He looks at me. Deceived. After a long pause he says: "Sorry I don't do it like this." Then his traits lighten up again. He laughs nervously. Continues: "Anyway, it will come out perfectly. Come time, we will get accustomed to each other. Just come near, lean on me and kiss me and its enough. You have such wonderful lips, like peaches. I love you." I never heard anybody praise me so high. It's embarrassing. And I have to act. Suddenly I get up, take the check out of my pocket. Hand it back to him. He blushes all over his face. I say. "I cannot give you what you want. Take it back." "I gave it to you, I don't want it back. But please remain with me. If you do not want to sleep in my bed, here is another room with an own bed. And a key on the door. But please remain here. I love you. Don't be upset by my quick action. I do apologise, please forbid me. Everybody scolds me for being to quick." Again I consider. It seems he does not mind my bad will in the beginning. Why not do as he wants it. It is not dangerous. What's worse for my consciousness. Live as the pimp of Shib or as his "special guest". Till he will be fed up waiting for something I can't grant him. What would I have to do else, sit on a bench somewhere in the woods and open my veins? Work in a trade I am allowed to in my caste? And die a slow death over the years. At least this offer of him gives me a slight relief. I still cling to life. I like so much music and who knows how it will be in another life. I say: "Show me the other room." And he leads me to the chamber where you can accede directly to the bathroom. Without a word I enter. Close the door,by key. Undress, wash and lay on the bed. But one hour I lay sleeplessly on the bed, thinking about the card I took. There were lots of other ones. I saw them. But I took this one of the lovers. I must have a penchant for him. I get up, go into the bathroom, close its door and take a shower. There are lots of perfumes and I put some on me, go into his chamber and creep under his sheets. After a very short time. I feel his hand groping for my body. Just before, laying alone on the bed, I imagined how it would be, longed for somebody touching my body. if not a woman then a man. Now it does not please me. I feel ashamed. It's not that the vellakaran is not nice. On the contrary, he is older, but he is much nicer than Billy, his skin is so smooth. He has no skinhair. When I think at the skin oils, shavers and utensils to eliminate body hair I saw in his bathroom it does not amaze me. And I like his behaviour. Not demanding something from me. And he radiates such a tranquillity. Like a Buddhist saint, God forbids me. I fear I can't say no to anything he wishes. And that makes me afraid. It's too new to me. And what would father or mother say about me, what a failure! After Shib now Khabun too, bringing shame over the whole family. Shib at least was of my father's sister who killed herself. But I, his son. I can't bring it over me. He has caressed my whole body while I lay there, stiff like a corpse. Now he has fallen asleep. Lies on his back, one hand stretched over my belly. And snores lightly. Carefully I take his hand away. Get up. Go into the other room and dress myself. Without making noise. Take a last look at his beautiful body. His black curled hair with only a few grey curls. His long eyebrows hanging over his closed lids. His slim body. His prick stands erect. I kiss his red top and lick his body with my tongue. He sighs and turns on the side. I get afraid he might wake up. But now I have to go if I want to sneak away. And I don't have the gut to tell him goodbye. But when I open the door it squeaks. He wakes, blinks. When he sees me ready to go, he jumps up, and all at a moment stands besides me. Looks into my eyes, gives me a kiss. Keeping me back! One side of me hopes he will imprison me here, delivering me of the compulsion to take a decision, the other fears that and wants to remain free. But he only says: "I'm so sorry. Certainly you are now afraid of me. Of course you can go if you don't trust me. Please come back whenever you wish. I'm sure José would like to know you. But take the cheque please." And his hand grabs for my hand, tries to slip the check into the palm of my hand. "All the good, see you soon." he says, his eyes wet. But as I sense the paper in my hand, I recoil, drop it on the floor. He gets down to pick it up. And before he is up again, I steal out of the door, run down the stairs and out of the house. The guard looks at me in contempt. I feel miserable to have sneaked away so badly. But I couldn't stand his soft manner. I run. Every moment I look behind me. When I'm out on the road tires squelch just besides me. I look up. A cab has stopped. The door opens and a beautiful young vellakharan guy exits. I stare at him. He has long blond curling hair, blue eyes like the sky and a wonderful fair skin. He answers my stare, opens his arm, shouts:“ Come into my arms you beautiful one." Such a debauchee! I get my senses back and run away. In safe distance, panting, I look back. Ramos has reached the street, sees the chap, shouts:“ What, you here already, Alec?" I am hiding just behind the hedge. I wonder whether to run away or listen. My curiosity takes it over my fear and I creep back again to hear better. I didn't know that Ramos knew this guy. Alec says: "I had a good flight from Kathmandu. Really. José is in good health. And Sissy III is on her way." Who the hell is Sissy III? I will never know. Suddenly he laughs: "But as I just arrived here I fell in love with that nice Indian who came running out from your house. Just into my arms. And the most interesting: He wears your watch." He looks intently at Ramos wrist. And laughs again. "What's happening. You wearing a cheap colonial watch, you who have to wear always the dearest, Patex Philip or Rolex watches, drive the most expensive cars and own the biggest ship on earth." Now I know who Sissy III is. Only a Vellakharan can give a ship such a funny name. And I have given up such luxury goods on a whim. I nearly regret my flight. But hearing on I don't regret it. Ramos laughs too. "I am so lonely without you. Yesterday on my nightly walk in the park he was sitting on an bench looking so miserable, I had to offer him shelter." "And you promptly fell in love with him, and exchanged things, besides the kisses and whatever." Ramos laughs even more. "Don't let your imagination run away. He is very shy. But you are right. You won't change me. When I see a nice boy I get in love with him. And I don't regret it. 16 years I had to keep to one partner. And then she left me for another woman. Now I won't get back to the old status. And you don't have to get jealous. I will always love you. I bought this nice temple relief for you, the one with the boys dancing you so looked at." He bends forward and gives him a long noisy wet kiss. Now I see the guards. They stand there on the threshold and laugh. And they don't even care about him! Monsters! And Ramon holding this Alec with a hand between the legs and sighing. I have had enough. Such a swine. I was only his bride as long as the other was not there. If only I had taken the check. But at least I have the watch. The most expensive Swiss watch! Although I thought to throw it away, after this realisation I won't. Without making noise, I get up, run away. In sure distance I look back. He seems to have heard something. Looks in my direction. I crouch, keeping immobile. At last he gives up his search, says something to Alec and lets himself into the house. The guardian doesn't budge, is passive, looking on, even smiling in such polite manner. And as soon as his is gone, and doesn't hear anything, he shouts a dirty joke to some other chap at the other house. I get up and run away. A stone just misses me. Where the road crosses the river, I become so exhausted that I want to take a riksha, but I have no money with me. Of course the hotel has a 'NO RIKSHAS' sign outside, but who cares? I could have him drive me back, get money from Billy, send it out to him. I'm too depressed to decide myself to ask Billy for money and slowly, half-asleep, walk back, several hours, to the hotel. It's like coming back, exhausted, from a lost battle. A battle lost against me. I seem to walk like a defeated dog, my tail between my legs. The tail which does not serve for anything, which could be cut away making life easier for me. Becoming a Hijra. Find a rich Indian, marry him and live a routine life between kitchen, household and bearing children for my husband. No problem thinking how I can develop undesired capacities without money. As a wife I could play the sitar and sing for my husband, maybe paint or study these unnecessary Westerner things like Tarot without having to earn the money for my living. My husband would be cared for, I would clean up, cook for him and he could boast with his friends about my capacities, when they come to visit after a week he will have earned our money in a factory or in the Government. But there is no sense, even if I cut my penis and my testicles I will still not be a woman, only a despicable Hirjam. A sect without the others, just fit to look at the new borne ones to find out whether they are man or woman, an unclean act, and to sing for charity. Sure to come into hell to be the devils bride. Or I would be happier to be born again as rat. I shudder. In hell it must be red hot and here in Madras its already too hot. The more tired I get, the more my chaotic ideas seem to go in a certain direction again, and when I see the tube lights of the hotel, the marriage decoration lighting up the entrance, I want Billy to love me, to make me his equal, to love me more than he loves Shib. This Ramos only wanted to use me as his loving boy. He is an old tourist or something, here in India for the fun of the cheap sex tourism. I wanted to turn to him. I relied on him in my desperation. And he made fun of me. His love is this chap called Alec. I understand. He looks so much like a foreign God with his blue eyes, his blond nearly white hair and his snow white skin. I have no chance with my brown eyes and brown skin. But Billy has white skin and blue eyes. He is much better than this Ramos. And he is younger. I'm ready to do for his love whatever is necessary, to get abused until I become like him. The guard only lets me in because I have the key to show. In the lift I wonder: why did I return. Is it because I am jealous of Shib? The word seems to give the pain a new importance, making it an experience, I'm jealous of somebody doing something with somebody which I don't want to do. See the beauty of it! But I'm still bent on debasing myself until I become their equal.
As I came back in the late morning from Ramon nobody even realised I had been gone. Billy said he couldn't see me and I had lunch alone in the dining room. Billy and Shib ate alone in their room. I had remorse for what I had done to Shib, tried to see him. But he did not want to see me. They went out together, I don't know where. Now its evening and I sit in my hotelroom. Billy and Shib have fun together. For me the night doesn't finish. I don't have the nerves to read books. Why not buy some magazines featuring naked women or....men? I can't imagine going into the book store and buying them. Here where everybody knows me. And I have no money. I drad the moment I will ask Billy to give me some pocket money. I undress, lie on the bed. I put on television. Nothing interesting. Some soap. An American family film. But on another channel an Indian film about a man who loves another woman besides his wife. He already has a wife and two lovely boys at home. I, who don't even have a wife to deceive. Couldn't get one because I don't even have a trade I could earn enough money to get a bride. Let alone living in such a posh home. No, it's too boring. I still look on, thinking of nothing and fall asleep. When I awake it's night. The television is still going on. Now it's some horror film. I've had enough. I close the television. It's quiet again andI have time to think. Keep thinking about my future. Living like this as a second string of the bow is nothing. It can't go on for ever. I regret that I came back. I should have put an end to this the night before. I get up. It's time for me to finish definitely with this life. It won't get better and I can't make amendments for my birth sin. Maybe in my next life I will come back as rat. And then my art loving vein and my queer side will be of no relevance. I look at my wrists and suddenly I realise. I have still the vellakharans' watch on me. I'll bring it back to him. When I'm dead he will have nothing of me. I do not want to leave this life as a petty thief. Maybe he can give it to somebody else who has less scruples then I. And then do the final lapse. But how will I do it? The big thing. The only act of relevance in my life. The wrists bring me to the idea. Open them with razor blades. This is masculine and definite. But will I have the guts to continue when the blood is spilled? I doubt. It would be simpler with a rope at a branch. Like the despising woman I always was. I deceived me but the others looked through me. Always took me as one of these effeminate. Why not acting like one of these. But I have no rope. I need a rope. What else could I do? I want to do it definitely. Nothing else comes to my mind and I would rather like thinking of other things now my last hour is around. I stroll around the hotel. There are small cabins where the cleaning personal keep the utensil they need. The door of one of them is open. I look into it. Dirty linen from the bed lie around. But also a string belonging to a curtain. Nobody is there. I slip into the cupboard and take this and issue the hotel. The night is clear. No clouds. All stars can be seen. I go on. I follow the direction I followed on the night I encountered Ramon along the Gandhi Nagra Gardens. Tonight there are several faggots walking up and down at the edge of a little forest. Is Ramon here again? I don't think, he is certainly at a fine restaurant dining with his friend Alec. Ramon with Alec, Billy with Shib, Sushila with her baby, all are happy in society. Only I am alone. And by my own fault, because I can't make up my mind. I come to the building Ramon lives in. High fences close it from the outside. There is no open gate, a sign says: "Beware of the dog!". Keeping out the natives! I have to get in without being seen by the guard. Because I don't want to see this guy Ramon. Following the fences I find a hole where animals and perhaps also people can sneak into the gardens of the building. I creep into the inside. Creep on all four limbs to the entrance of the building. I don't want to be seen. The lodge is lit, the window open but the guard asleep. The mail boxes are in the lodge. I'll have to put it directly under the mat of his flat. I have to pass under the window of the lodge. I creep into the building and ascend the stairs. Before the door, where there is written P. Gandarian and something else, I put the watch under the mat (very nice with stripes and stars on it) and press the button of the bell. And run down the stairs like mad. I hear Ramons voice shouting: "Who's here." But already I am at the entrance. The guard has awakened. He has seen me, no sense to duck! I run out of the door and along the pathway, hear the dogs barking behind me and the guard cursing. Follow the street and run between the guards to the vehicle's entrance of the domain. They too curse and the guard of the building joins them. But I am already on the street well beyond their reach. I run without looking back till I loose my breath and stop, panting. Look back and around am near the entrance of Gandhi Nagra's Gardens. I enter the gardens, want to go to a forlorn place where nobody will disturb me. I go far into the woods, between high old eucalyptus trees. In a quiet place, just under a big tree, I stand on a tree trunk which is below the leaves of the tree. I pull the rope along my neck and throw my rope to the branch. Grab the rope with both hands to fasten it to the branch. But suddenly somebody holds me up by my arms. He presses a long bladed sharp knife on my Adams apple and forces me to turn my head and look into his blood shot steel blue eyes . It's a bald fat tourist. With a high pitched voice like a child he shouts: "Don't budge, you soft skinned baby cherubim. Looking at me with your innocent wonderful deer like brown eyes. You wanted to kill yourselves. But it's a waste and difficult. I will do it for you. No, no. Don't object. It's no hard job for me. I will appreciate doing it. And without additional charges. In fact free of charges and taxes. It's a pleasure for me." He laughs a high pitched laughter which nearly breaks my ears. "I will impale you, scorch your skin alive and steer your blood like a soup making a foul smelling blood sausage out of you." My blood chills as he grips my wrists and pulls my body up, binds my wrist at a branch of a tree. Now suddenly I don't want to die. I want to object. But he takes no heed of me. I can't utter a word, gasp for air, as the blunt edge of the knive presses on my adams apple. He pulls down my pants, takes an immense prick out and wants to stick it into my ass. He fastened the rope so tight that my arms feel cold and bloodless. I must act. He hasn't bound my ankle. I can move my legs. Throw them hindwards into his step. He cries, holds his testicles. Lets drop the knife. Tightening my mouth to suppress the pain, I wriggle my wrists out of the ropes, feel the blood flowing down my arms again so they come to life. I let myself drop on my knees, catch the knife with hurting hands and start running straight before me. My knees nearly reach my kin. Running for my life I get a strength I never suspected but I feel his breath directly behind me. I hear him cry: "Mind the wall, you fool." I don't mind, it's certainly a ruse to distract me. But already I stumble over some stones. I feel my body flying through the air and crush down on my knees and hands in the wet grass. The razor sharp blade of the knife I still had in my hand drills itself into the palm of my other hand. The blood ejects like a fountain just full in my face. I was not prepared for this warm, sweet, saucy stream, my stomach revolts, I vomit everything I had in my belly. The thoughts rush in my head. "Finish it, stick this blade into your heart. If you don't do it now, it will not be enough to die and it will be too late." But very far back the hope, impertinent, and repulsed: perhaps Billy or an emissary of Vishnu will come and save me. But to what end? In order that anything will continue as ever. I the pimp of Shib or the lust boy of a vellakharan for ever? But that fears are far away again. I fear death. Everything rushes in my head in the speed of electricity. But I am too clumsy, too awkward with my left hand. I have difficulties grabbing the blade, but it slides from my grip, slits my thumb. I let it drop on the earth. I do not have the force to bend and gather it. I just crouch there on all four limbs in the wet grass, waning, the blood splashing, spoiling every inch of my body. I don't realise what's going on around me. I think a immense lap of time passed and wonder where the pig headed tourist is. I sense him behind my back, feel something hard penetrating me while I am kept immobile by his hands who choke me. I gasp for air. His rustling breath in my ears. Then I suddenly hear high pitched scream and somebody swearing in an unknown language. Like a pig being scorched alive. And I faint.
When I awake, I am in a hospital. Tubes carrying blood are fixed at my veins. I feel the regard of somebody on me. It's the vellakharan, the guy called Ghadarian or something. What does he do here? He has his Nobel prize and loves Alec the blond blue eyed angel. Has certainly lots of affairs with boys. He only wanted me for distraction! I don't want to know anything from him. Want to run away. But they have bound me, like an insane person. I can't budge. So I have to remain, hear him telling me: "Why did you do this. Why did you leave me without taking the money I gave you. It was to help you, not to buy you. I know you are not like me, loving men, but I love you all the same. I already told José about you and he wants to know you." He speaks and speaks, I do not know what to answer. I couldn't love him. Tensed I look for something to answer. To hurt him, that he leaves me alone! Somehow I do not feel grateful that he took me back from death, it was such an uncharged feeling, when I crouched there on all four, the onion smelling hand of the death carrying tourist over my mouth, gasping for air. Panting, only with the idea of surviving, I no longer felt the pains consciously. Half gone, despite the fear lingering behind, fear of how it would be inthe other world, I felt something like a loss of the weights of my family, of Shib, which are on my shoulders. And now I am again back to normal. But is it really the same? I feel like uncharged of a burden. The burden of my moral and ethic bonds? I sense a small change in my taking of the hostility of the others. But I don't dare relying on this feeling. And now. Boring questions again. Does he expect an excuse for my running away? Didn't he realise that I do not want anything from him? Does he really hope that I will end up appreciating his sexual perversity. But do I really still feel like this in this matter? Again, I have changed and looking into his eyes I feel different. He continues, as if he had sensed my thoughts:" I had this feeling that you were near, you were needing help. In my head I heard your voice shouting for me. I felt an urge to look for you." But it's impossible. It cannot be. I never wanted to call for his help in my consciousness. But in his presence, I forget my feelings against him, my scruples, like I did on this evening on the bench and in his flat. I feel so much at ease, taken care of. I have such a nice feeling. Is that why people love his books, worship him so much. He is like a yoga and does not look like it. I have so much to ask him, but I cannot speak. Suddenly I feel an urge to be taken in his arms. But I do not have to speak, I feel he feels my desires. I feel secure in his presence. I never felt anything like this. Maybe with Sushima. But there it was more like a sexual tingle. Here it is a desire to be one with him. I do not understand that I was so distrustful of his aims. I want to explain myself. But I cannot utter a word. I just lie here staring at him. I must make quite a fool of myself. He bends down to me, puts his hands on my forehead and speaks: "Do not try to explain. You are just too exhausted. You come from far, from the edges of this world. But it would be such a pity if you, with your deep feelings, your seizure of the reality of this world, would have gone. I feel a deep urge for your qualities. You have to get accustomed to me, I am just to direct, to Westerner in my fashion. I still do not know how to behave in your country. And I do not know your name. Is it Arjuna?" This is the name my mother used to call me when I was very small, when she wanted to be nice to me. I never told it to anybody, how does he know it? Just before I was dreaming of my mother, being in her arms as infant. "I propose," he continues "you take the room in my flat which is free and the money I want to give you, which would allow you to follow your studies on your own. You can always do as is best for you, if you still do not feel well with me, go away. But do not say no to my offer before testing it, give me a chance." At last I can utter what's on me mind. I wanted to say something to hurt him. Because he is always so nice to me, intriguing me. Instead I say: "I am Arun, but I am usually called Khabil. How did you know about my real name. I never told you. Are you a spirit sent by Vishnu to test me. Do you really give me another chance or do you want to carry me to hell. I tell you, despite my fears I want to be with you. Now I live in the Ritz Hotel with Billy T. But he is infatuated in my brother." But it is not what I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him to let me alone. I am not in control of my speech in his presence. He laughs nervously. "I am not the devil you think. I am a human being with all his weaknesses. But I thank you to give me another chance to know you. I will inform this Billy T. What you just did, that you tried to pass over, has to be taken very seriously. I suppose in India they would let it pass. But I wish to discuss it again with you. As soon as will be possible, you will come to me. As I said without obligations to me. Do you agree." I nod. No sense to revolt. After my attempt to suicide I am like in a second live not wholly in my control anymore. He seems to be relieved. I do not understand why he wants to help me. I am so wicked and unworthy. Only thinking of myself. Am I in love with him? I am confused, don't understand my new feelings. But he says, again sensing my thoughts. "Don't begin again to think in your schemes that you are unworthy. It leads you to nowhere. I am now going away to ask when you can leave here. I will be back in a moment."
He comes back very soon, happy. "You can leave the hospital tonight. I will tell Billy that you move to me. You need something to wear." Where are my clothes? He seems having again read my thoughts. "I am afraid, your clothes are all completely soiled with blood and unusable. We'll go directly to me. I think it's not good for you to go back to the setting where you were before." I look up at him: "I don't want you to go to Billy. I don't want him to know what I did." I'm ashamed, I have tears in my eyes. Giving away too much of me. "OK, I will go and buy you a new pyjama. What you wear now belongs to the hospital." What does he have to buy me clothes for? Anyway he only likes me naked! He blushes. Wants to say something. But refrains and turns. But at the door he hesitates, comes back. He sits down again besides me, looks in my eyes. "It's very funny," he says "When I sensed you there on your hands and knees before the wall, dying, I had suddenly such a headache. And sensed you as if I were you. And now I sense all your thoughts. I never did before, with nobody. And I do not want it. Please consider, contrary to what you think, I am really on love with you, I do not only make love with you." I say nothing. But suddenly I burst out in tears. "And what's about this fair one, Alec, who just wanted to eat me up and of José." I now nearly shout at him. "You have one lover for each day and want to make me think you love me only. Leave me alone, will you. I don't want to belong to your harem." On my shouting the nurse and the doctor comes. He is impressed. "Well, "he says. "You don't have to love me. But I know you are at a difficult stage of your live. Just use my room, which you can close with a key and leave me when you are better again." He shakes his head. "We'll have to work on this mind feeling. I don't want to remain your Siamese twin. Do you also sense my thoughts?" I nod negatively. He frowns. "Well, it cannot last. I have your thoughts under control and don't want it. Because this will create problems between us." He seems to expect an answer from me. But I don't know what to say. After a while, he get's up and leaves. Then it gets awkward. The nurse comes up to me and pats my hair. At my age! Then the doctor asks me awkward questions about his behaviour. Did he make me propositions. Pet me in certain places. They expect a detailed illustrated information from me. The nurse belongs to one of these missionary churches patronised by the Americans. Now of course I could make him a lot of trouble. But I don't want to. It would not be fair. I remain mute. And now I get a detailed account of the sins I would do. I hear my father again. After they are gone I cry silently. I think about what this Ramon said, not about what they told me. I am now his creature. He can control my thoughts and also me. Should I try to run away again? But then he will certainly be able to control me from far away. This second life seems to be completely owed to him. I will obey him in every respect.
The room is very nice. It must be a special hospital for vellakherans. I never saw such luxury in an Indian hospital. The sister comes, accompanied by a doctor. They take my fever and take the tubes away. The doctor looks at my hand. "Well, it's all right again, but you will have scars. You had luck, what did you want to do? " He does not await any answer. At my question, where I am, he gives me no answer. He simply stares with a meaningful look at the sister. I feel ashamed, want to sink into the floor. Finally he says: "You are at the American hospital. If the professor had not discovered you in the park, you would be dead. And I dare say that in an Indian hospital they would not have had the instruments to save you. The professor simply brought you along. He has enough money for the cost of healing and the sojourn. And he is a sponsor. He sponsored for our hospital with the condition that also Indians would be healed here." I blush. It looks as if I would be some parasite. Brought along by my Sponsor.
They leave. Another sister brings me some broth to drink. But then the vellakharan comes back.
He has a pyjama for me. He takes the watch out of his pocket. "Did you put it before my door?" I nod. "You got yourself nearly killed. The guardian told me he heard somebody sneaking in and later on a noise of the closing door and heard you run away. He set the hounds on you and had his rifle ready. He would have killed you like a wildering dog and I could only bury you know." Then I must cry again. He sits down, takes my head into his arms. "Don't now get upset. I am not making you a reproach. I was only so anxious." He dries my tears, kisses me and I begin to like it. "We can go home at once. The taxi is waiting outside. Again I cry: "They made allusions about us." "You have to get over this, Arun. Everybody will make allusions but in fact they are only jealous. If I make you this proposal to live with me, again I assure you that I am not calculating. I only want to help. But I am accustomed to people thinking dirty things about me. But nobody can do anything against me. I happen to be rich and famous. And independent. I am not vulnerable. In our century and American controlled civilisation, Money counts all the time. But neither you are vulnerable. Also please do not be to upset that I can read your thoughts. I can also read the thoughts of other people and as you are gifted you will learn it living like the Hyksos."
The doctor and the sister enter again. They are opening my bandage. On my wrist a crust has formed. "It's well under the way" the doctor says. But in order to allow it to heal you should not do anything with the left hand these next weeks." I am disappointed. "Can I play on the citar." "You probably cannot, now. But, as soon as it has healed. I suppose, you will be playing. Also you will have to learn to use your hand again." I fight with the tears. "You should not have tried to open your veins to begin with," he continues. "These young ones do not have any endurance." the nurse says, putting on a new compress. It is very unflexible. I cannot move my left wrist. It's better the left hand than the right one, I was happy in my unhappiness. But then Ramon helps me to get up and we go to his flat.
When we arrive at his flat, I am completely exhausted. I lie on my bed and sleep. Later on I wake up. The watch he gave me lies on the bedside table. It shows ten o'clock in the night. I have slept a long time. But now I feel well, rested. I want to see where Ramon is. I realise that I call him now by his name. It seems I'm getting accustomed to him. And I'm not pleased. I think about what I succeeded in these last years. I'm selling myself to vellakherans, and sold my brother Shib too. I have now made an idiot of myself, trying to put an end to my life and not succeeding. But I cannot remain any longer with this vellakheran, especially as he sees to have a grip about me. It all began, because I, son of a merchant, got myself in my head to become musician. What will happen if all continues like this. It cannot, because otherwise I will be born as rat in my next life. I shall make amendments. I will return to my parents, tell them everything and hope they will let me work in the shop. Carrying heavy bags, making parcels. I do not want to sell over the counter. I can't sell. Otherwise I will work for the others, anywhere. I why not pushing a riksha or clean shoes. I don't want anything from Ramon, I leave him the watch and the cheque he gave me. I creep out of the room. It's an immense flat, the corridors will not end. In the end I come to the entrance hall. I hear him speak to somebody iavailable hand for the handle. A stabbing pain rushes through my body, I cry and swoon.
When I awake
I am in a room. The door is open. And he is sitting naked, what a shame!, on a chair before a screen. Speaking with some green eyed youth with red hair. Not speaking, shouting. I must overhear it, it's too loud. "Now please, Koja, don't run away again. Take the plane and come to Madras." He looks in an schedule. Then continues: "The next plane leaves tomorrow morning at 10 and I will get you at the airport. But please don't panic again." I have heard enough. Some other vellakharan coming again and I will be again second fiddle. Back in my head I had the idea that maybe it would not be necessary to flee. But now it's clear. I will never again be capable of playing so good the cythar and now this. I go to the door and instinctively grab with the next , I am on my bed, Ramon brought me back, has taken away the bandage and put a new one on it. He is still naked and I am ashamed. But he does not understand. He looks at me: "Is it better. What did you want to do?" He does not know I wanted to leave him, better not to say anything. "You don't want to tell me what you did at the door? But, do you think I can't assume? But Arun, you agreed to remain till you will be healed. It has no sense to go away before. Again, I assure you I ask nothing of you, but will help you. What does it cost you if you remain?" Now I am under his spell again, I am feeling well. But I don't want him to leave me. I bid. "Please don't leave me alone?" He looks at me inquisitively. Then he bends, embraces me and kisses me. I am indisposed to feel this naked body against me, but my whole body feels like a warm agreeable current going through it. I relax, lean against his body, feel his smooth skin. It's so nice. "I will bring you to my chamber and we'll go together to sleep. But please allow me 10 minutes to book a flight for Koja." Then the telephone goes. This time it is somebody called Simon. "I heard you had a long conversation with Koja. I thought about it. I can come along with Koja. I already discussed it with him. We will make a tour with the train to New York and come together to Madras. It would better our friendship." Ramon says: "We could go together to Mahalipuram. I have a great indian musician living with me." Who is this? "He wanted to take his life and I could save him. He now lives with me. Our ship will come to Mahabalipuram." "OK but leave the booking of the tickets. I'll look for it. What's with José?" " I don't know. He is very much engaged in Rome. But I expect his telephone."
He creeps in my bed under the cover. We are both naked. Give ourselves warmth. I soon fall sleep. But then I suddenly wake up in the midth of the night. I am lucid. I know I have to leave Ramon to be near Shib. Creep out of the bed, go on tiptoe to the door which he didn't close by key and slid out of the building. Run all the way along to our hotel. And into my room.The wound was nothing. It healed like nothing. But I have another pain, much worse, it is called jealousy. I am jealous of Shib yet Ican't life without him. To know that my disease has a name doesn't lessen the pain but makes it easier to bear. My decision to become like them or worse makes me less different. I'm only thinking. Always alone in the room I drop my clothes while I walk to the bathroom. I get into the shower, pissing while I open both taps fully: Henceforth I'll be nothing, I'll care about nothing, every desire, every whim, every fancy is like a flight of sounds, not more, the lives of men are as fleeting as sounds, as ugly or beautiful, as important or futile. Gandhi, Madras, Annamalai, Chidambaram, Palghat, Purayur and abroad are only different sounds in a black velvet universe full of starry sounds, nothing can possibly matter. I, Billy, Shib, Madhu, Father, Mother, Sushila, Mary, and even Ramon and Alec, we are all like sounds, our love is like a sound, beginning beautiful, becoming fainter and fainter until it gradually merges and drowns in, if I think of all the love which has been loved in the universe since the beginning of time, what must have become by now an Ocean of Love. I let the water run over me washing the night away and then a thought enters my mind, I decide immediately that this will be the first proof of my future shamelessness, that henceforth I will do whatever comes into my mind, that I will never care again about 'what the neighbours say' and I dry myself, put on a clean lungi, take my blanket and the cythar and go out to find the stairs leading to the roof.
I never played the scales so beautiful, there on the roof, under the rising sun. Then I go down to the breakfast room.Billy has a book besides him. I try to find out what it is and bend my neck so much, that he realises it. He hands me the book. "I wanted to show it to you. You should read it. I read it quickly. It is so good" I look at the title. "Ali, or a love story with the Hyksos." By Ramon Gandarian, Nobel price winner. I look in the book. Inside on the cover page there is a picture of Ramon. Not much younger. I look twice. I am startled. I have to think about it. When he did tell me about this book I did not believe him. It says here that he is a great men lover. Men in plural. I was simply one lover more on his list. And lately I tried to convince myself that this vellakheran did love me. And now...? It’s like a cold shower. But I begin to wonder again weather I did make a mistake wanting to swap Ramon against Billy. They knock at my door. Shib invites me to go shopping with them but I say, from within, still naked in the shower: "I have to play." I do want to remain alone to think about this last disappointment. They go away. I hear them giggle. Billy realises nothing like always. He is not very sensible. Naked I go back into the room. Lie on the bed. How would it be to caress myself? Make love with myself to avoid taking decisions? Feel what I felt when Ramon touched me? It wasn't as disgusting as I had thought. Put my finger into my hole. Disgusting. I'll get a dirty finger. But what if i tried to put an object instead of my finger. There is the handle of the brush in the toilet. I get it. Lie on my back on the bed, bend my knees and rub it while introducing the handle. I was already roused. It comes and I sense such a nice prickling sensation in my ass. i don't find it so disgusting! Look at my skin, caress it again. Then I realise that again I am carrying this damn watch on my wrist. Maybe it would be a pretext to see Ramon again. Bring it back to him now. But now he is together with Alec. Billy together with Shib, Ramon together with Alec. I am the fifth wheel on he cart. Nobody needs me. Suddenly I have again this compassion with myself. I sob. And quickly dry me tears with my handkerchief. I will not cry because of this Don Giovanni. I hope I will never see him again. I . Now I have no watch to put on. I left the book in the lounge. Go down. In the bookstore I look at magazines. They have one with naked men. Why not look at them. I buy it and go upstairs to my room. Looking at the pictures I get aroused and rub myself in the aperture. It comes again. I am now filthy in and out. I sob. But it will come and I will get over it. But I cannot stop thinking of this Ramon. Did I really mess up a chance? It makes me sick to think of me like this. So I try the other way. I suggest to me that he is a great menlover (men in plural) and I am released that I got away from him. I put his watch away, stow it in a drawer. But this feeling does not last long. I begin to think of his smile, of his nice voice of his fair and soft skin. And again I take the watch out, put it on, go out under the shower and imagine how it would be to make love with him. I decide to do something else to forget. Try to read in his book. But after some minutes I stop. Get up. Cloth myself and exit. I'll bring him his watch back. But again I change my mind and begin with some difficult scale stopping immediately after they have left. I can't concentrate as I am always thinking of Shib and Billy. They simply left after the breakfast leaving me alone. I can't stand it any longer. I am scratching the instrument and don't succeed to have an attractive melody. My thinking is turning around the point and I can't concentrate on my music. I lay on the bed. Why can't I have a girl friend like a normal man? They just simply don't want to know anything of me. How was it with Sushima in my village. She was nice and I fell in love with her. But it was my mistake. I didn't have the courage to tell it to her. And why did she never even look at me? Why am I so abnorm. I should abhor people like Billy or Ramon but I feel myself attracted to them. At the same time I fight against such feelings. It goes through with me. Suddenly I burst out in tears, I don't understand why. I get tired and sleep and have a dream. Billy has invited me to a concert with Ravi Shankgar. It was simply wonderful and I nearly got into a trance. After the concert we are waiting for a taxi. And suddenly I see the guy called Ramon Gandarachian or something, a few paces from us, talking to some well suited indians, Ministers or something. Billy does not see him. Ramon seems very absorbed. He is accompanied by a blond and blue eyed youngster. I turn to Billy to show him Ramon. Ramon seems to have seen me, he smiles all over his face and comes towards me. I don't want to see him. He did not tell me the truth. The book cover said he had lots of sexual contacts with young ones and I am upset. I have a lapse, he is kept up by another Indian. Fortunately the taxi comes. Amazed that I am so hurrying up, Billy and Shib follow.
I wake up and am still in my hotel room. The night has come. I am alone again. Billy and Shib have fun together, again. I am quiet and always on my own. I keep thinking about my lost hopes. Ramon at the luxurious flat has now dropped outside my hopes. I have only Billy left. But...Living like this as a second string of the dick is nothing. It can't go on for ever. And my parents are dying of shame for me. I prefer putting an end to this. I get up.. I go out. The night is clear. No clouds. All stars can be seen. I go on. I follow the direction I followed on the night I encountered Ramon the first time. I come to the building where Ramon lives. High fences close it from outside. There is no open gates! Following the fences, I find a hole where animals and perhaps also people can sneak into. I go inside. Creep in. I hear the dogs barking behind me and the guard cursing. I run like mad. Suddenly I feel one of the dogs taking hold of the bottom of my long jacket. Gathering force in a last effort, I take my jacket and throw it away. The dog howls. The guard swears and goes away. I went down on all four, crawled through this hole. My head and my bare legs got all scratches. And I feel some pain in my left buttock. Feeling it with the palm of my left hand there is a sticky warm liquid. But I have no time. Hear just behind me the fierce barking of a dog. I run. Well beyond the lawn I stop, panting. I am near the entrance to the botanical gardens.
Now it's clear. I have nowhere to go. Not even to Ramon, they wouldn't even let me ring at his entrance. Was he at home? I don't even know it. I want to go to a forlorn place where nobody will disturb me. I want to open my veins with razor blades, that's what I found in my room, and let myself bleed out. I go far into the woods, between high old eucalyptus trees. In a quiet place, well in the middle of the forest, I sit with the back to the tree trunk. I shed my clothes, the ones I still have, not to spoil them. They are the new ones Billy bought me. I lost the lumber when getting down to creep through the fence and had to leave it behind. I take the blade in my right hand to rip up my arteries of the left arm.
Then suddenly there is a great noise. The bushes come apart and out of them emerges a tall, red haired figure. It looks like Vishnu. He has light red hair, hazel brown almond formed eyes and is completely naked but for very small slips. His fair skin turned brown under the sun shines through the night. In one hand he holds a violin case in the other his clothes. He turns his head back, shouts: “You bloody whore, that will teach you to delude me about your real sex, to cheat me with another and try to steal my money.” There is a big bulge in his slips and I sense his prick tensed as if ready to send the arrows. I freeze in my gesture to rip open my artery. The right arm, already ready to strike, remains poised halfway, and the blade falls out of my fingers. I hear a loud laughter and somebody who runs away. Now he turns his head in my direction, sees me. He startles, coils back. “But here is Adonis, what a wonderful angel." He approaches me. “Curly black hair, almond shaped hazelnut eyes; but you are a God. Sent to me alone by Saint José.” He bends his body, his right hand reaches out to touch my breast and my nipples. My body is tensed, I am benumbed, I dare not budge as maybe the apparition will vanish. I want to say something, but the words remain in my neck, I choke. “But your nicest part is concealed,” He exclaims, going down on his knees and his hand slides in my pants. I recoil, try to slide back. But do not dare to run away. I stutter. “Are you Vishnu’s angel? You are so fair and I am so dark. Have you come to take me to the Nirvana.” He laughs. A wonderful, clear, bell-ringing laughter. He asks: ”Do Vishnu’s angel love boys or girls. Because if they don’t love boys, I’ll be rather somebody else’s angel. Already, as I see your apparition for the first time, I love you.” I relax. He speaks Indian well, but like a vellakaran. He continues: ”I’d rather be a man. Because angels can not love.” I am not sure, Vishnu tried several times to seduce some mortal in the disguise of a human being, why not, in our times as a vellakaran. We so need the money of the vellakaran, we would be seduced at once. But he helped me to get up, has torn my pants away, my dick stiffens under the soft caresses of his beautiful fingers, my whole body resounds. Now it's too late to flee, I am already under his spell. I already love him. His lips touch my lips and kiss me, his tongue penetrates my mouth, embraces my tongue. I can not speak and am so excited. My whole body answers to his caresses, my tongue takes hold of his tongue. His arms clasp to my body. I let myself fall behind and he spreads over me, rolls to the side. With my arms I hug his body, caress his smooth, fair skin. And now I feel a finger caressing my split behind, gently moving around my rose. I feel how it becomes moist. We both on a common accord move our bodies so that our two dicks are touching each other becoming ever more excited, as our tongues excite each other. I am so excited, I feel so hot and sense his heat and we both come together. It was so nice, I never sensed it like that, we both breathe by fits and start recovering, holding us very tight. And both together we speak: “Oh it was so nice, I never sensed anything so nice, so beautiful, it should never end!” We both stop, look each other in the eyes and he laughs again. Happy. I say: “And I wanted to take my life, am I now in Nirvana.” Again he laughs, happy. “I’m so happy I obviously hindered you, because I have now met you. You know when two speak the same you can ask a gift from the gods. But you are my gift. You now belong to me. I love you, please never leave me, remain my lover forever. Do you also love me?” I have lost my scruples. What I could not do with Billy, with Ramon, I now do it with him, a completely unknown. I feel ashamed towards Billy, but I can’t stop being happy. But I am so curious, the questions pearls out of me: “ What’s your name, what are you doing here, in the middle of the night in the core of this park.” I stop, afraid. I hope he will not vanish like all the gods appeared to humans disappeared when they tried to ask them a question. What if I would find myself again, alone under the trees, on my knees, trying to rip open my arteries. It all seems so fabulous, I’m afraid I could fall back into reality. I must have looked really startled, amazed he looks at me, then finally, after a long pause, laughs again, his clear, bell-like laugh which I now begin to love. “I’m José. I’m a musician and after my studies I am touring India earning my life with my music. I have toured whole Europe. It was always my dream to know India.” Now I’m somehow appeased. I look at him more concentrated. The violin case. And his face reminds me of somebody I already saw. Now suddenly I realise. The picture on Ramon’s desk: “The virtuous violinist José with his father...” That was it. Of course he looked younger, but his mouth, the form of his eyes, vellakaran eyes of course and they seem all the same, but still, the hair also. It must be him. “You are the famous violinist, the son of Ramon Gharadachiv” it comes out of me, stuttering. I stop abruptly, I should not have said it. “Gandarian” he says, “it’s a difficult name. He is not my father but is like a brother to me. Do you know him.” Somehow I am too careful. I want not to tell everything of me. What would he think of me? I say: “Not really. I saw your picture in a newspaper.” But he looks sceptically at me, frowns. I misunderstand, don’t want to lose him as my friend. Suddenly all my shame comes up. I cry, embrace him again, pressing his warm fair body firmly on my skin, feeling again my dick bending, tightening. “I’m so ashamed, so down, I have completely messed up my life. I’m not worth being anyone’s friend, I really should kill me.” He looks startled at me, doesn’t understand. “But why? Please do tell me. Maybe it will help you.” Just like Ramon. Wants to help. But nobody can help me. Notwithstanding, I’m so much at the end of my rope, I’ve no nerves left. Why not daring everything? I tell him my whole story, everything and feel even more ashamed, how I was not able to help myself for the payment of my studies of the carnatic violin, how I had to sell myself to Billy and was not able to satisfy him, and had afterwards to sell my own brother to him. How I bring shame to my whole family. He listens very attentively. But says nothing. And doesn't mock me like this Ramon did. When I have finished, already the first birds are twittering. He takes the case, unpacks the violin and plays a tune, so nice, so heartbreaking, the tears are flowing over my cheeks. He says: “It’s not your fault, you’ve come in this world under these circumstances. One day I will tell you my story and how Ramon saved me, brought me to my real destination. Everybody encounters one day his angel, so says Ramon. Now I formally bid you to come with me. You can earn your life quite well playing for the people on the streets and restaurants. I need a companion who knows the land and the language. “ I protest. He speaks very well my language. He continues: ”Show me the real India I want to know. One day, maybe, you will encounter Ramon.” I’m so happy having found a real friend. I say: “Yes, and maybe we will be able to engage a real singer. It would be better to earn money.” And I think of Mahlu. And again, we embrace and love each other. But by now, the day has broken, the red sun disk shines through the woods. We have to put on our clothes again, not to be surprised by wanderers. But I have one thing on my mind, I have to tell my new friend everything, not to loose him again. I say, putting on my clothes: “I have to tell you, I was already with your "friend? is it", Ramon, he lives not far away from here in the new luxurious vellakaran flats, and I tell you, I got so ashamed, selling me again away to an old vellakaran, I ran away.” I look at him, not sure, whether he will get angry with me. But he just looks at me and says: “Don’t be anxious. You ran away. I ran several times away. But each time he looked for me and when I came back or he found me, again down to the most shameful bottom, he took me up. I didn’t know he is now in India. Sometimes he goes somewhere and does not tell us but we know always were to find him. On his ship they always know where he is.” Then after some consideration. “But now I know where he is, and he is near, I will make a visit, sometime in the near future. If you want to come with me, you can tell me. But you don’t have too. I will tell him you are well and he will be quieted. But neither he nor I will take you a grudge if you don’t want to come to him.” I nod, I am not very sure whether I will meet this vellakaran Ramon with his quick manners again. With José it’s different, from the first moment I loved him, he is my age, I feel for him something I sensed for nobody else before, not even for Sushima.
Then José laughs again and says: “Now you have to play for me.” And I play with his violin, and it comes out as it never did before, not even at the morning on the roof. He is so touched. He cries and kisses me. I think it will never end and already my old shame comes back to me. Then he says: “Let’s get to your place and take your things and be on our way. India is big and I want to see it all.” He really is very optimistic. I, as Indian, have not seen much of India. But then he reconsiders and says: “Maybe you want to present me to your teachers. The one of whom you spoke as a master. I would very much like to meet someone you consider as your master. Also I have difficulties accepting that somebody could be your master. But I accept that except Ravi Krishna I heard not many carnatic musicians.” The sun is now full up. People are flocking into the park. We leave, I am chattering like a child about our experiments. My hearts bumps, I am in a height, never was I so in love. Everything inside me sings, all fibres tremble, my blood is hot. But then suddenly I feel dizzy, everything around me gets unclear, I swan. I would fall down if the arms of José, who walks just behind me would not hold me around my breast. There is just a bench near us, he puts me on it, sits beside me, cajoles me and I find slowly back to my senses. It was too much, the strong sense when I was about to take my life, and just afterwards the happiness, the physical stress making love, the night without sleep. Suddenly I am distressed. I look at him. Does he really love me as I love him. But he caresses me and everything gets quiet inside me. He puts his mouth to my face, kisses me everywhere. Then he whispers in my ear: "I think you should go with me to my room. I have a room at a hotel for one person only. But you can use my bed." Suddenly I am suspicious. My usual mistrusting comes back to me. And my parents, my ancestors, all are reproaching me: "What are you doing, becoming perverse, putting dirt on the whole family. Think of us, think what miserable figure you represent to Shib." Without thinking further I tell him: "No thank you, it was a feebleness. I'm not gay. I go home to my hotel room, to my brother. He needs me." José looks perplexed. But he does not budge. "I love you still. If you want to come back, go to my hotel: The Blue Bird. Or to my father. But do not let you go. And please, before taking your life again, go to me or to my father." I stand up. A bit dizzy, but I can stand on my feet. It seems to me people are looking curiously at me like: "Look at the pervert." José says: "Let me accompany you back, you are still very feeble." But I say no. I do not want to be accompanied by a vellakaran. I'll try it on my own. He follows in some distance. And then, suddenly, I collapse. Even before I reach the soil, he is besides me, holds me up. "Let me help you just to the hotel, I'll leave you afterwards." Before the hotel he leaves me. Arrived in the room, I can only lie down. I cry. Everything was so nice and now I had to get unhappy to please my moral feelings. I fall asleep. I awake when Billy and Shib bump at my door. I don't answer and they go away. I feel better. I might as well go downstairs and meet them for lunch, as I've now opted to be the guardian of my brother and the emissary of my parents. When I come down to the table, who sits there? José. Billy sits besides him, radiates like a lamp.“ Meet José." he shouts to me. "He played the violin around our tables and I invited him to join us. He is one of the best westerner violinists. It seems he is touring India earning his living with his music on the street." Billy does not seem to appreciate this. "He would rather use his skills to play at concerts." He says. José laughs and again I am in his spell. His laugh sounds like the bells on the record with European gospels my father used to play. A missionary had given it to him and he found it wonderful, played it each Xmas for the whole day on end. It must be a spell that I always meet José. And the only free seat is besides José. And as soon as I'm seating, José presses himself to my body and flirts with me. I am very upset and ashamed till I realise that Billy is getting nervous. Throwing admirative glances at José. He certainly is jealous. Now I play José’s game. After the dinner José leaves and I follow him. We see each other again in the street. José takes me behind a bush. Kisses me and embraces me. Caresses inside my legs with his knees. I get really excited and hot. I want to do it again with him. I say, "Come let's go to my room." In my room José kisses me and while undressing me, kisses my whole body and lies me on the bed. My dick is now really stiff. He sits on it and I penetrate his ass. Up and down he goes with his knees, we both groan. I'm really excited, my prick hot stiff and ready to splash its sperm. "Please, please let me ride on you." And with my tongue I caress his dick which becomes stiffer and stiffer. We get up. I kneel and take his dick in my mouth and it fills it out. "I'll penetrate you from behind" he says, I stand up, he stands behind me and I feel his stiff penis penetrating my body. His hands caress my loins, my stomach and my penis and he presses against me. We groin and moan together and he comes in me. His gentle hands work on my acorn till I come too. Never did I do this, never did I get penetrated. I dreamt of penetrating Sushila but I would have thought it a shame being penetrated. I lie on the bed pressing José's body with my hands as near as possible to my body. We both kiss. It's so nice, the tears of pleasure go down my cheeks. José says: "Thank you for asking to be penetrated. I would never have asked it from you." I say. "It's the first time somebody penetrates me. You have taken me as a virgin." José thinks and then says: "Before I met Ramon, others penetrated me and Ramon showed me that I could do it otherwise too." I gasp. I thought he was Ramon's son. I never thought they would make sex together. I must have shown a certain disdain. He says. "I told you I have experienced much in my life. Before I met Ramon, my own father misused me and sold me to a Mafia ring. He was a officer of the south American Guerrilla." Then he thinks, looks at me, and says. "I don't know why I tell you all this. I hope you will not despise me. Somehow I am really in love with you, more even than I was in love with Ramon. And I want to bind me to you." Again he thinks. Then thinking that he has talked too much. "Come, take your violin. We'll have to earn money. You come with me?" In the street we play and earn quite a lot. He divides everything equally between him and me. At the beginning we go to our hotel room and sleep there. But Billy makes a sour face. José says: "I think that now Billy no longer wants to pay for your hotel room. As I am your friend. Come to my hotel. We'll take a two bed room. Of course it's less luxurious than your hotel room. But it pleases me more." We go back to my hotel. Billy and Shib have just come back from a tour. And without much considering, I tell them that José is now my friend and we will leave. Billy does not seem too much upset. Probably he has already written me off and is happy that he has no longer to pay for me. By his looks I realize that nevertheless he got very much upset about our going away together. I go to my room to pack my violin and a few of my things. And when I go out of the room I meet Shib. He has tears in his eyes. Also he does not dare ask me to remain for him, he bids me and even on his knees, which I find not very worthy of him, to give him my address. Finally, being no longer capable of keeping him off, I give him the address of the vellakaran Ramon. I tell him, that Ramon is the father of José and should probably know his address. And I get even more soft. I allow him, to accompany me to the Blue Parrot where José lives. I hope, Shib will not steal me José, but I keep telling me that somebody has to tell me the time so that I will not miss the meeting. Of course it’s only an excuse, there are watches everywhere. But my fears were unnecessary. José has eyes only for me, though Shib tries to seduce him to, like he seduced Billy. But in the end, giving up, he bids José, probably thinking it impossible to do it with me, to join him and Billy in Mahabalipuram, at the seaside. I find it very mysterious that my friend José nods, and seems to know where it is. But later on he tells me, that when I was sleeping he went to visit Ramon and Ramon told him, that he would join the ship, which would be anchored at Mahabalipuram, a pleasure harbor for foreigners during the Xmas and New Year days, and he promised him to join him and the other members there.We live in José's hotel. We have rented a two bed room but the beds are together. It's not as fine as it was in the Hotel were Billy stayed, but it's so nice to be together with José. Only for lunchtime and in the late afternoon we play in the street. In the morning there is no sense, people don't pay. José plays a tune of Western music and I accompany him with carnatic scales. It is very interesting and nice. Especially the managers are always paying well, probably because of José's Westerner music. Once when we played, the master happened to pass. He is passing and in a hurry, doesn't stop to listen. Then he remains. I managed to whisper into José's ear that it is my music master listening. And he plays some westerner tune, so wonderfull. Even the master now listens intently. He nods, then he puts his calling card in our hat. On the back there is written: "It was not bad, it could be better, especially in the intonation." Then he listens to my scale and I do some special tuning. He tells me to come again to the school to improve myself after Xmas. Afterwards he takes José's violin and plays special tunes. It's so wonderful that soon a lot of people stop and listen. And this evening is an especially good evening. After having counted the cash in the hat, we decide to go and eat a very fine meal. We go to Bellaputra tea house. We sit at a table. I hear some voice I know, look up. We are just neighbouring Billy and Shib. Again José looks at me, like at a lover, the whole evening. He is enthusiasmed of our encounter. He says. "You know, you are much better than Ravi Krishna. For Xmas I want to go to Mahabalipuram, but afterwards I wish to attend your university and spend some months to learn indian music. It interests me quite a lot. " Then Billy comes to our table and offers us an aftermeal and congratulates us. Shib is infatuated with Billy quite as José with me. But than Billy tells me I will always remain his friend and bids me to visit him in Mahabalipuram. Back in our hotel room José makes me a scene as if he were a jealous lover. But I kneel before him, open his fly and take his dick in my mouth and suck and he gets excited. He takes of his clothes, kneels down opposite of me, kisses me on my mouth with his tongue. Meanwhile his hands caress my body and undress me. He embraces me with his arms. lifts my posterior until I am in the position of the candle. Now with one hand he holds my ass, with the finger of the other hand he caresses my split untill I feel it becoming nicely moist, squats on his heels and introduces his dick into my hole. I squiver under his dick and wag with my ass to enhance my feelings and he comes in my hole. It's so nice to feel his seed. I cry and the tears pearl on my cheeks as his mouth takes my dick and genteelly suck on it until I squirt my seed into his mouth. Afterwards we sleep, embracing us tightly with arms and legs, my mouth upon José's mouth. In the middle of the night I wake up. I lie on my back. José has rolled over to the other. He lies on his side, the head turned away from me, snoring. I am naked without blankets, there is a light wind and suddenly I feel cold. My stomach aches, I have a headache, probably from the westerner wine I drunk in the evening. I get up, go to the toilets. They are on the other end of the corridor, as well as the shower. No longer so comfortable as in Billy's Hotel. In the toilet I have to vomit. Afterwards I remain a long time sitting in the dark closet. Everything aches. The head, the stomach. I am terribly depressed. The wind goes, its quiet outside. I remember yesterday evening. I was a little drunk and made quite a fool of myself. And José went over to Shib and Billy and he and Shib petted themselves and Billy watched looking triumphantly at me. Shib even sat on José's lap, I remember. And now. He turned away from me during the night. Is this love with him already finished. I panic, What shall I do. If he leaves me, I have nobody to care for me. But it seems that he is fed up with me. Better leave him now on my own before he leaves me. I'll go to Billy and he will take me because of Shib or otherwise I'll go back to my parents. I go back to the room, carefully, not to awake José. I pack my few things. Take my violin and exit.
We are in the middle of the night and I turn back to Billys hotel. The porter lets me in because he knows me. I go up to the fourth floor and knock at their door. No answer. I put my ear to the door. I hear somebody snoring. They are in. Again I knock at the door, louder. The door of somebody else's room opens, only a crack, somebody peeks out. Then he makes me signs to come in. I knock and even bump on Billy's and Shib's room, but nothing happens. I have made so much noise, that another door opens and somebody whispers, "Go away you trump, or I will call the room service, we are no brothel." I have no other possibility. already I hear the floor porter coming. Without much thinking I go into the room, with each hand holding my bag and my violin, there where the person waved. But as soon as I have entered I regret my action. A stout middle aged tourist, with a bulging stomach and a bald head, stands in the middle of the room. He is completely naked with a pair of socks and bermudan shorts. A woman, of about the same age, she waved to me to come in, stands naked without anything on at the cupboard and extracts something. She is athletic like some wrestler. I look closer and shudder, its a pair of handcuffs and a whip. On the bed lies a magazine, showing men in leather clothing thrashing on little boys and girls who are chained. I wonder in what atmosphere I came. I turn to flee. But it's too late. The man, very athletic, just holds me by my hands which he turned on my back and drags me through the room to the woman, While she holds me he turns back and closes the door with a key. I thought of fleeing but now I can't. But I was not enough attentive. He pulls me into the room and she takes my wrists and chains them with the cuff links. He presses me down on my knees and puts a dirty rag into my mouth while she fixes a chain on my ankles. I'm on my knees. Him before and her behind me, ankles and wrists chained. I can't budge, can't shout. Silently they tear my clothes away till I knee completely naked before them. He drops his bermudan shorts and his immense prick is dangling before my mouth. He says: "We want to use you. You have two possibilities, either you agree to collaborate and earn easily 50 Dollars or we call the police and tell them you were sneaking into our room. You have no possibility to defend yourself, because we are the tourists and we are two. In any case you Indians are all eager of the tourists money. He takes out a bundle of American Dollar notes, puts them on the bed. besides the magazine. If you make it so that we rejoice in it, the amount will be doubled. If you shout you will be thrashed." Suddenly she holds a pistol in one hand and presses it against my neck. I nod, I have no choice. She grips my head with a hand on my chin, pulls the rag out of my mouth, and presses my head backwards more into the pistol barrel. With her leather boots she wears she caresses me under my ass and presses on my balls and on my penis. She wears riders boots and presses its thorn into my ass hole. I get much excited. My head is firmly held while he takes his penis in both hands and makes it stiff. Without warning he presses his stiff thing into my mouth whilst she holds my head until I nearly choke. I am not feeble but I was completely taken by surprise. Probably they will kill me afterwards. But surprisingly there come loud bangs on the door. A loud voice cries: "Police, open up." They stop. They conduct me to their cupboard and close me in it, after having put a rag in my mouth. I'm nearly choking. But I'm a saved whilst they are taken away in cuff links. A neighbour saw my violin case before the door, which fell out of my hand. He heard the noise inside the room and alarmed the porter who alarmed the police, because they did not hear his bumping against the door and did not open. Now Shib and Billy are awake. They recognise my violin case. And thats why the police searches all cupboards. When they open the cupboard where I am, I'm nearly choked and I have waned. But Shib is very upset. I believe now that he really loves me. Billy is annoyed. He asks: “Why are you here. Where is your super friend?” Very rude of him. He lets me understand that for him I would rather no longer exist. But for the sake of Shib he accepts me. He says: ”For tonight you can lodge with us in our room on our sofa."The following morning Billy wants to go to a beach. He rents an A/C car and we travel to Mahabalipuram, a place full of foreigners, I never imagined this to exist in India. There are about thirty bungalows in a garden along the beach, it is so beautiful, I don't deserve this, I don't belong here. I fall back in my ancient behaviour of jalousie. Billy's behaviour leaves no doubts about why the rich Westerner is sojourning with native boys but nobody seems to mind. The ocean and the beach are postcard perfect.
I lay down to sleep full of the beauty of the sunset but then, alone in the dark A/C room, under the whirling ventilator it all comes back to me and suddenly I'm dizzy, Billy, Sushila, Subhadra, Mary, Shib, Ghulam Ali, Madhu, the bed seems to turn and move like a boat in the waves, I have to sit up and switch the light on, I must kill myself. What am I waiting for? Poverty, shame and failure? What hope is there? In the end I'll become a farmer like Father, only that he is respected while the villagers will say in front of me with mock reverence, "he studied music in a university," and behind my back, "look what good it did him!"
Shib loves Billy, Shib is not prostituting himself, I had no other possibility, I didn't do anything shameful, the universe is nothing but empty pain, vain suffering.
But what a pity there is nobody to share the bed with me! I dream. I see José lying besides me on the bed. But then I wake up and am alone again. I didn't see José here. Once I saw Ramon hand in hand with his young blond lover and an other one of his age with long brown hair. They were chatting. First I thought of asking him were José was. Then in the last moment before he passed I got ashamed and hid and he went by not realizing that I was there. How I regret that I hid. It has no sense to think about this. I get up and take a shower, I stand naked under the rich waterfall, a successful crow, my dick full of curd, only that it is not curd but the thick perfumed shampoo the hotel provides. Back in the room I put on the new clothes Billy bought me in Madras for Christmas.
I try to thank Billy, but instead of saying what I prepared myself to say, I begin to cry and make a fool of myself.
To say something I say, "I'd like to write Shushila a postcard!"
Shib says, "I have the address of her and of her friend in Andhra too, in case you need it. Do you want it?"
I don't know what to say. Billy says, "lets write her a card from all of us!"
Shib gets a hotel postcard from the reception and we sign it. The address is 16A, Police Lines, no wonder they're all talking like they've returned from abroad the day before!
Shib has written 'Greetings from Mahabalipuram from your friends from Annamalai University. See you!' After we have all signed it. Shib decorates it with little lambs. I hope her father will like it. They're fashion crazed Christians, they'll think that's how it is done abroad.
Then Madhu rejoins us for three days at Mahalipuram.
José and Kahub go to the University to studyBut then we sit in the bus. I look around me. Realise that in the bus sits José. I can’t trust my eyes. What does he want to do here. We are finished together. I don't want to see him anymore. But he comes over to me. He holds a parcel in his hand. My father and I want to give you this present. Madhu looks inquisitively at me. I feel the importance of introducing José to him. I say: “This is José. He saved me when I first wanted to take my life.” José laughs. “I didn’t save you, I just hindered you. But still I love you.” There is a free seat, just besides my seat. He has taken it and sits just by me. I look at him. Still I love him. But still I do not accept what he and his “father” are doing together. Still, now I can probably no longer come under the eyes of my parents. I can as well forget my moral scruples. José asks: “Where is your friend Billy.” I answer: “He has gone abroad together with Shib. He says: “So you are now free and we can be together again.” Madhu looks at me. “You have a very nice friend.” He is right, José is a nice friend. But I still do not understand why he is now on the bus. He explains himself: “You told me, the University would begin now again after Xmas. I once told you that I wanted to make acquaintance with your master. And take lessons with him. It now happens that we already met. And I’m now going to meet him on my own. I do not want to step in if you don’t want to know me anymore. And I will go on my own.” He stands up. I grab him by his arm. “Please do not take it wrongly. I do not want to let you, if you still want me.” He looks at me: “And why did you assume that I did no longer love you. I have always loved you and will continue to love you. You left me and I did not know why.” I look incredulously at him. “And at the restaurant when you sat on the lap of Shib.” He looks at me, then at Madhu, then back at me. “But why? Is it so terrible when I sit on the lap of somebody, especially when I had a glass of wine too much.” Then he becomes earnest, gets on his knees, looks at me: “Please excuse my faux-pas.” And he laughs heartily. Then he looks at Madhu: “Please speak for me to your friend. I’m maybe not enough earnest, but I love Khabun.” By now the whole bus is staring at us, I am ashamed, but he does not seem to mind. “I will now go back to my seat. If you can pardon me, please come to me. But if you can’t I will be crying all the time. And I will always be in your way. Because I will be at the university and you will have to teach me carnatic violin, as your master told you.” Then he slips away to his seat, on the back of the bus. Tens of angry pairs of eyes look after him, thinking of the lack of manners these vellakarans have, but it does not impress him. And in fact they seem to scorn me, an Indian having it with such a unaducated vellakaran. Madhu looks at me, I look at Madhu. Then, at last, Madhu says to me. “You’ve never looked at his gift, it’s not polite.” I did not want to accept it, not to bind me. Then Madhu says: “Why do you pretend you don’t love him? In fact, everybody realises that every fibre of you resounds, when you are near him. It’s not necessary to make a martyr of you.” I look at him. Then we laugh both. I take the parcel, unpack it. It is the violin which was in Ramon’s apartment when i was there, and which pleased me so much. Ramon has given it to me, and he loved it so much. I have to cry. I go to the back of the bus, where José sits, and sit on the seat besides him. I take his face in my hands and kiss him on his mouth and say: “I love you and will always love you, José.” And we embrace and remain seated together. After a while Madhu rejoins us where we are sitting sits beside José and takes his hand. We are silent, we don’t have to speak, we know that we understand each other. Maybe our relation will have to endure difficulties, but we will always love each other.
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