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CONFUSED MIND by Srini

She’s dressed in a brilliant mix of fuchsia pink and emerald green, a silver kangan to add to the beauty of her already gold-decked body, and a set of matching pink-rimmed spectacles. Her book is more than just a novel - it’s the history of generations of her ancestors, spread across the world. She smiles with the confidence of anyone who’s conquered her dreams, yet her weariness reflects the heat of the April sun, the sweat and the travel she’s undertaken to come to this queer meet. He likes cotton, preferably worn in red, with a red-daisy adorning the neck – nah, bow-ties don’t suit the artsy guts of a writer whose passion for research of any kind can’t out-do his flair for kitsch. He’s born this way, so he’s wearing his specs this way; big, black-rimmed, bigger than his cheek-bones can accommodate, yet overwhelming anyone with his charm and geeky looks that demand attention. Oh, and not to miss, the recycled-plastic-wrapper bag as a statement against all the garbage dumps in this goddamned, yet lovely city. The book reading begins. But wait, there’s someone equally confident as these two, yet with a poise and wise look on her face, that the brats on her either side can’t match. Curate, moderate, mediate, liberate – she likes them ‘ate’ words, she likes food. And anything about the words – written, to be written, published, or just spoken. She’s the only one who shall sit in between the two that shall narrate from their works. Mothers, artists, poets, DEB U T

journalists, activists, or even passersby seem attracted by the sight of a board with pink chalking, up the winding stairs, beyond the myriad of shoes, sandals, slippers and junk, to the open room with striped, bright durries and benches. The air is filled with laughter and wit before the reading begins. And then she starts, purple and pink in her thoughts, with a voice that’s husky and sweet, charming and enchanting, all at once. Lovely words pour out of her – a lifetime of experiences documented hardbound, a set of experiences that have the audience rapt in attention afire with laughter, nods and tears in their eyes. She doesn’t exaggerate, she’s definitely practiced reading as much as writing before, but she knows her story so well, that the words don’t fail her at all. It’s all in her genes, her memories and her erotic dreams. He then seizes his chance, as she drops the last leaf and the audience their last laugh, to take them on a roller-coaster ride. A flurry of images from a psychedelic life, prose mingling with poetry and vice-versa amidst all the paradoxes of an ‘otherwise’ lifestyle, in an ever-growing, cosmopolitan city, with men and women, queer and not so queer, fun and boring, colorful and dreary – he charms them again, with visuals of a hot air balloon ride across the world of Bombay. Yes, it’s a world, not just a city – it’s alive and full of zest, so much so that it takes all the people and their cultures that come to it, hardly letting go. ‘Disco Jalebi’- can neither forget that word nor his 14

Profile for Gaysi Family

Gaysi Zine Vol. 1  

Gaysi Zine - Vol. 1

Gaysi Zine Vol. 1  

Gaysi Zine - Vol. 1

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