The Guy From Grindr
By
Sukanya Majumdar
It had been six months since I was released from the mental hospital cum de-addiction centre. The situation had become terrifying because of my uninhibited use of drugs which led to some scary visions and hallucinations. I had to be shifted to the mental hospital. My family members had cooperated in every way possible, starting from the admission process to dropping in from time to time to remain abreast of my progress. They all wanted me to get better. I wanted to get better too.
When I got back home, there was a mini-celebration of sorts. My family was a nice one, but I could never express myself fully in front of them. There were many elderly members in the family who would find the concept of homosexuality alien. All of them were staunch believers of Islam and most definitely it would have been shocking for them if I came out to them as gay. I do not blame them. It was better to remain in the closet than bring out the homophobic side of the people who had nurtured me since my childhood and cared for me so much. I would probably have to marry a girl. I was already 23. I knew the pressure would only increase now on.
Not that I had a girlfriend or anything, ever. But my family, alongside my neighbours would always discuss how pretty their daughter Nazila was, and how we were an excellent match. Nazila was barely 18 years of age, and she had completed her high school with distinction. I had seen her accompanied by her mother in the alleys from time to time, but never did she make an eye contact with me. Probably she was too shy or a recluse. Nazila was a true beauty, with bright, expressive eyes and cherry lips. Did she have ambitions of studying further, or having a career? I decided if we did get married, I would help Nazila pursue her dreams. Our family was well-off, with our tailoring shop being the only one in this small town. During the festive seasons, the profits quadrupled or even more than that.
That night, I was not able to sleep. I switched from one side of the bed to the other, but in vain. I could hear the cacophony of the mosquitoes outside the mosquito net. Finally, I got up, drank some water and grabbed my phone from the table. After scrolling through Instagram reels pointlessly, I finally decided to check Grindr. It had been eight months since I had last opened Grindr. The hallucinations were too much to deal with. I would literally see each and every one in my house, on the roads, smoking something shaped like a joint. It all seemed so real. That's what hallucinations are, you don't know what's real and what's not. Using Grindr had become secondary while I was fighting for my life, fighting for normalcy.
There were 107 people who had liked me so far. Damn. Among them, one particularly stood out because he was about 7 miles away. That's pretty close, huh? As soon as I swiped right on his profile, a new message flashed on my screen, "Hey." Nonchalantly, I pressed a reply on my keyboard and sent it. "My name's Arif", he said. "Rehan here", I introduced myself. "Wanna meet up and chill for a while?" Damn, that was awfully fast. What if he turned out to be a mere sex-seeker? Not that I was not looking for sex, but I needed a deeper connection to build up before actually proceeding for the bedroom action. Arif seemed to read my mind. "I know, I know what you're thinking. I'm not looking for sex on the first date. We can meet at a public place. I want you to be comfortable with me first." I was relieved. I agreed to meet up with him at a coffee shop.
We chatted for hours over coffee that evening. There was an instant connect. We even sat on the wooden bench on the pavement when we had no more room for coffee or snacks, just so we could spend more time with each other. There were so many things to discuss about, especially since we had so much in common. Arif was an English honors student, just like me, even though he didn't complete his masters due to economic issues. He lived with his widowed mother in a small house that they owned. His town, Shadabganj, was approximately 7 miles away from mine. It would be quite easy for us to meet each other, we could just take the local train and arrive within half an hour. Our meetings became increasingly more frequent, because I had literally no friends and because Arif seemed to be so into me. I was more than flattered. The connection seemed genuine.
I was not a morning person, and Arif seemed to be a night owl as well. Hence we always used to meet up in the evenings and chill. One evening, as we were sitting in a park near the lake, Arif running his long fingers through my brown hair, a man approached us. I was so busy laughing with Arif that I first didn't notice the man. It was when he sat down beside me on the wooden chair that I became startled. Without a proper introduction, the man said in a hoarse voice, "I must have seen you somewhere." "Where? ", I asked, genuinely curious. "Yes, you are the drug addicted dude, who was in the asylum for six months. Now I remember, " he said. I was too embarrassed to say anything. Especially since my friend was right beside me. I had shared a lot of things with Arif, but not my stint in the mental hospital cum rehab. It was humiliating. Now wait, where did Arif go? He was there just now. Concerned, I looked everywhere but could find no trace of him. The middle-aged man sitting beside me was staring at me, his sharp gaze almost piercing through my soul. He must have been a staff at the hospital. Suddenly, he grabbed his shirt collar. "Aargghhh!" He hurriedly unbuttoned the first three buttons of his white shirt. I could sense something was leading to his discomfort but not sure what it was. His attitude towards me led to my body being frozen, rendered unable to move. With all my might, I pulled my body up from the chair and left the scene.
"Why did you leave without telling me?" I texted Arif after reaching home that night. "I did not want to watch you being embarrassed, " he replied. So he knew. "You know, I watched something strange happen today... " I was about to tell Arif about all that I saw happening with that man. But he stopped me, "I don't need to know about irrelevant people, babe." We kissed passionately behind a shady bush a few days later. I could feel the blood pulsating through my veins. "Let's make love", I said. Arif smiled in agreement, his black eyes emoting a strange darkness, like the depths of a dark lake from which one could never reach the bank alive. He seemed to become even more mysterious under the red evening sky. I had known him for a few months now. We decided to do it at his place a few days later, when his mother would be out of town.
I was laying beside Arif, completely naked in a king-sized bed, exhausted. My fingers traced intricate patterns on his hairy chest. After our steamy lovemaking session, there was an eerie silence which made things somewhat awkward. "You are so gorgeous", I finally said, breaking the silence. Arif was awake, but remained mum. He seemed to be lost in an ocean of thoughts. "You okay?" I asked, putting on my jeans. "Yeah, yeah. Completely fine. " After a pause, he said, "Rehan, let me tell you something." "Yeah, go ahead. Was I not good?" A smile ridden with sadness appeared on his face. "No, it's not that. You were perfect. I know you'll get married to a girl. I think it's a good thing, honestly." "How did you know? I never spoke of it... "
"I come to know a lot of things, Rehan. That's not the point. But never let them ridicule you if they ever come to know you're gay. Never let them put you down. Never... Never... "
I don't remember the rest of the things he said. But I didn't know what was waiting for me the next morning. When I woke up, I had a terrible pain in my back. To my utmost shock, I found my head resting on a piece of brick and no bed underneath me. I was lying on the ground floor of what appeared to be an under construction flat. Where was Arif, his room, his king sized bed? I only had my jeans on. I managed to put on my shirt and staggered my way out of that mess. It was early morning. The tea stall on the opposite end of the road was open though. I could notice people were staring at me. Finally I gathered the courage to ask them. "Do you know someone named Arif?" I tried to show them his picture from my phone but in each of those pictures I was alone, be it the coffee shop or the parks we went to. I'm not sure but I might have sounded mildly delirious while I pronounced his name, "Arif... Arif.. " The tea seller and the customers present there stared at me in disbelief. What I got to know was there was a boy named Arif who lived in the house with his mother, in the same spot where the flat was being built. He was dating a local political leader's son, and a gang of people, set up by the leader had beaten him to death on these very streets for being a homo. All of these happened three years back. His mother had sold their house and left soon after. They were not able to build the flat there since the past three years, as one or the other mason would see something and leave the premises, never to return. "Many people have seen him", the tea seller said nonchalantly, "He's not real." I headed home after that, overpowered by shock and disbelief. I never saw Arif after that. I had hallucinations of all sorts, but I knew Arif was not a hallucination. He was real.
My name is Sukanya Majumdar. I am based in India, and am a part of the LGBTQIA+ community, where being queer is frowned upon, and there is no legal recognition of gay marriages. Writing since early childhood, I dreamed of becoming a published author. As a literature, art, and movie connoisseur, I have won multiple awards for my writing and art. I have worked as a professional copywriter and content writer.
By
Sukanya Majumdar
It had been six months since I was released from the mental hospital cum de-addiction centre. The situation had become terrifying because of my uninhibited use of drugs which led to some scary visions and hallucinations. I had to be shifted to the mental hospital. My family members had cooperated in every way possible, starting from the admission process to dropping in from time to time to remain abreast of my progress. They all wanted me to get better. I wanted to get better too.
When I got back home, there was a mini-celebration of sorts. My family was a nice one, but I could never express myself fully in front of them. There were many elderly members in the family who would find the concept of homosexuality alien. All of them were staunch believers of Islam and most definitely it would have been shocking for them if I came out to them as gay. I do not blame them. It was better to remain in the closet than bring out the homophobic side of the people who had nurtured me since my childhood and cared for me so much. I would probably have to marry a girl. I was already 23. I knew the pressure would only increase now on.
Not that I had a girlfriend or anything, ever. But my family, alongside my neighbours would always discuss how pretty their daughter Nazila was, and how we were an excellent match. Nazila was barely 18 years of age, and she had completed her high school with distinction. I had seen her accompanied by her mother in the alleys from time to time, but never did she make an eye contact with me. Probably she was too shy or a recluse. Nazila was a true beauty, with bright, expressive eyes and cherry lips. Did she have ambitions of studying further, or having a career? I decided if we did get married, I would help Nazila pursue her dreams. Our family was well-off, with our tailoring shop being the only one in this small town. During the festive seasons, the profits quadrupled or even more than that.
That night, I was not able to sleep. I switched from one side of the bed to the other, but in vain. I could hear the cacophony of the mosquitoes outside the mosquito net. Finally, I got up, drank some water and grabbed my phone from the table. After scrolling through Instagram reels pointlessly, I finally decided to check Grindr. It had been eight months since I had last opened Grindr. The hallucinations were too much to deal with. I would literally see each and every one in my house, on the roads, smoking something shaped like a joint. It all seemed so real. That's what hallucinations are, you don't know what's real and what's not. Using Grindr had become secondary while I was fighting for my life, fighting for normalcy.
There were 107 people who had liked me so far. Damn. Among them, one particularly stood out because he was about 7 miles away. That's pretty close, huh? As soon as I swiped right on his profile, a new message flashed on my screen, "Hey." Nonchalantly, I pressed a reply on my keyboard and sent it. "My name's Arif", he said. "Rehan here", I introduced myself. "Wanna meet up and chill for a while?" Damn, that was awfully fast. What if he turned out to be a mere sex-seeker? Not that I was not looking for sex, but I needed a deeper connection to build up before actually proceeding for the bedroom action. Arif seemed to read my mind. "I know, I know what you're thinking. I'm not looking for sex on the first date. We can meet at a public place. I want you to be comfortable with me first." I was relieved. I agreed to meet up with him at a coffee shop.
We chatted for hours over coffee that evening. There was an instant connect. We even sat on the wooden bench on the pavement when we had no more room for coffee or snacks, just so we could spend more time with each other. There were so many things to discuss about, especially since we had so much in common. Arif was an English honors student, just like me, even though he didn't complete his masters due to economic issues. He lived with his widowed mother in a small house that they owned. His town, Shadabganj, was approximately 7 miles away from mine. It would be quite easy for us to meet each other, we could just take the local train and arrive within half an hour. Our meetings became increasingly more frequent, because I had literally no friends and because Arif seemed to be so into me. I was more than flattered. The connection seemed genuine.
I was not a morning person, and Arif seemed to be a night owl as well. Hence we always used to meet up in the evenings and chill. One evening, as we were sitting in a park near the lake, Arif running his long fingers through my brown hair, a man approached us. I was so busy laughing with Arif that I first didn't notice the man. It was when he sat down beside me on the wooden chair that I became startled. Without a proper introduction, the man said in a hoarse voice, "I must have seen you somewhere." "Where? ", I asked, genuinely curious. "Yes, you are the drug addicted dude, who was in the asylum for six months. Now I remember, " he said. I was too embarrassed to say anything. Especially since my friend was right beside me. I had shared a lot of things with Arif, but not my stint in the mental hospital cum rehab. It was humiliating. Now wait, where did Arif go? He was there just now. Concerned, I looked everywhere but could find no trace of him. The middle-aged man sitting beside me was staring at me, his sharp gaze almost piercing through my soul. He must have been a staff at the hospital. Suddenly, he grabbed his shirt collar. "Aargghhh!" He hurriedly unbuttoned the first three buttons of his white shirt. I could sense something was leading to his discomfort but not sure what it was. His attitude towards me led to my body being frozen, rendered unable to move. With all my might, I pulled my body up from the chair and left the scene.
"Why did you leave without telling me?" I texted Arif after reaching home that night. "I did not want to watch you being embarrassed, " he replied. So he knew. "You know, I watched something strange happen today... " I was about to tell Arif about all that I saw happening with that man. But he stopped me, "I don't need to know about irrelevant people, babe." We kissed passionately behind a shady bush a few days later. I could feel the blood pulsating through my veins. "Let's make love", I said. Arif smiled in agreement, his black eyes emoting a strange darkness, like the depths of a dark lake from which one could never reach the bank alive. He seemed to become even more mysterious under the red evening sky. I had known him for a few months now. We decided to do it at his place a few days later, when his mother would be out of town.
I was laying beside Arif, completely naked in a king-sized bed, exhausted. My fingers traced intricate patterns on his hairy chest. After our steamy lovemaking session, there was an eerie silence which made things somewhat awkward. "You are so gorgeous", I finally said, breaking the silence. Arif was awake, but remained mum. He seemed to be lost in an ocean of thoughts. "You okay?" I asked, putting on my jeans. "Yeah, yeah. Completely fine. " After a pause, he said, "Rehan, let me tell you something." "Yeah, go ahead. Was I not good?" A smile ridden with sadness appeared on his face. "No, it's not that. You were perfect. I know you'll get married to a girl. I think it's a good thing, honestly." "How did you know? I never spoke of it... "
"I come to know a lot of things, Rehan. That's not the point. But never let them ridicule you if they ever come to know you're gay. Never let them put you down. Never... Never... "
I don't remember the rest of the things he said. But I didn't know what was waiting for me the next morning. When I woke up, I had a terrible pain in my back. To my utmost shock, I found my head resting on a piece of brick and no bed underneath me. I was lying on the ground floor of what appeared to be an under construction flat. Where was Arif, his room, his king sized bed? I only had my jeans on. I managed to put on my shirt and staggered my way out of that mess. It was early morning. The tea stall on the opposite end of the road was open though. I could notice people were staring at me. Finally I gathered the courage to ask them. "Do you know someone named Arif?" I tried to show them his picture from my phone but in each of those pictures I was alone, be it the coffee shop or the parks we went to. I'm not sure but I might have sounded mildly delirious while I pronounced his name, "Arif... Arif.. " The tea seller and the customers present there stared at me in disbelief. What I got to know was there was a boy named Arif who lived in the house with his mother, in the same spot where the flat was being built. He was dating a local political leader's son, and a gang of people, set up by the leader had beaten him to death on these very streets for being a homo. All of these happened three years back. His mother had sold their house and left soon after. They were not able to build the flat there since the past three years, as one or the other mason would see something and leave the premises, never to return. "Many people have seen him", the tea seller said nonchalantly, "He's not real." I headed home after that, overpowered by shock and disbelief. I never saw Arif after that. I had hallucinations of all sorts, but I knew Arif was not a hallucination. He was real.
My name is Sukanya Majumdar. I am based in India, and am a part of the LGBTQIA+ community, where being queer is frowned upon, and there is no legal recognition of gay marriages. Writing since early childhood, I dreamed of becoming a published author. As a literature, art, and movie connoisseur, I have won multiple awards for my writing and art. I have worked as a professional copywriter and content writer.
