Queer Eye for the Indian Guy

Because of the male dominated-ness of India's society, women get the shit end of numerous sticks. For example, in the increasingly western, liberal India, many young men in this country pursue sex before marriage. A large percentage of these same men would refuse an arranged marriage with a women who is also not a virgin. Women are also branded harshly for living a comparatively cosmopolitan lifestyle, and even going out drinking can warrant extreme labels. For this reason, you very, very rarely see Indian women out at bars short of major cities, thus turning most Indian establishments into non-beef sausage parties. It takes a while to get used to being around so many men and so few women in social settings - in fact sometimes when confronted with such a situation, I'm still taken aback.

It is for this reason that I was fairly confident - though couldn't be sure - that my first night in Goa I was taken on a date to a gay bar.

I met this alleged Indian homosexual on my flight to Goa. Although he'll never see this blog without extensive googling abilities (which, as an IT guy, he probably has), I would still like to protect his identity, as much of this country is far from being homosexually friendly. So let's instead call him Jesus Mohammad....no that doesn't sound right...let's call him Kevin Malloy.

Sitting in the window seat of an exit row with Kevin Malloy in the middle seat, I was getting the standard information about my potential hero status in case an emergency should occur. I couldn't even manage a "don't worry, I'm American," or flex to invoke the flight attendants confidence, because Kevin Malloy kept interrupting her to participate in the conversation, whie contributing nothing.

The first thing he said to me - unprovoked - was his name and that he was a Brahmin - the highest rank in the caste system. Within 5 minutes, he was informing me how much more money he makes than I do (around 12,000 to 15,000 dollars a month marketing IT software).

He turned out to be a very nice guy despite the rocky start, and insisted on getting a drink with me in Goa. I was exhausted and disinterested, but his persistence and my lack of a better plan for the evening won out. We got different rooms in the same guest house, he rented a motorbike and went to his favorite bar in a popular town called Calagunte.

My first hint that he might be gay was the flamboyant way he said 'hello' every time he answered the phone - subtle and possibly unfair, I didn't put too much weight in this argument. But I could tell his interest in my company was above par when he put me on the phone with his father when he called after the flight - a jolly and immensely important public figure in Delhi, it turns out. Additional hints came in certain proclamations such as, "I enjoy your company more than that of my closest friends!" But this subtle message came much later in the evening.

Two girls passed - quickly at best - through the bar in the 3 hours we were there. The men there were of a particular flamboyance in dress, possibly more so than the typical metrosexual style of pop culture India - but still I didn't want to jump to conclusions. It seemed perfectly natrual that this financially stable 25 year old Indian man wanted to take me to an all male establishment and buy me dinner and drinks.

We talked extensively about women. In fact, my extraordinary interest in the opposite sex was about the only topic conversation I was willing to initiate.** He had been in a 7 year relationship with a girl up until this year, and try as I might, couldn't get him to reveal to me the reason for their break up.

I've got a pretty sick sense when it comes to gadar - and it especially didn't help that he had such an incredibly, ragingly flamboyant name such as Kevin Malloy. But true confirmations come in bold statements, like when he tried to put his hand on my leg during our motorbike ride home.

He left Goa the following day for business, so when we parted that evening - to our separate rooms (I can't sell this part of the story enough), it was the last I saw of him. However -probably to give me a relatively solid conclusion to this blog - Kevin Malloy asked for a kiss on the cheek. He did buy me dinner, after all.


**I'd like to take this moment to say hello to all the ladies in the literary audience this evening.