A gayt (pronounced great) initiative

The state of affairs on the homosexual front though not too charming are humanizing steadily. Manvendra Singh Gohil’s old age home for the elderly homosexuals is an exceptional example to cite. Manvendra comes from a background that has boasted royalty for over 6 centuries. He is openly gay since two years and has been an enormous advocate for homosexuals. I cannot fathom the thought that has gone into starting such a novel project. In this homophobic land of ours, homosexuals who are out, are met with socially outrageous circumstances. If people in their prime are treated as outcasts, I can’t comprehend what elderly homosexuals in dire need of assistance have to go through.

In this demanding world where family relationships are as brittle as they could be, where appointments are necessary to see your own kith and kin – indulging the elderly homosexual demographic would be a herculean task. In a society where homosexuality is still a criminal act, the 39-year-old prince, who was disowned by his royal family for coming out with his sexual orientation, felt that there was a strong need of a support system for such people - a gallant act that necessitates appreciation. The ashram is to be built on the banks of Narmada and will be a joint effort of the Gohil’s Lakshya Trust and Narmade Har Sevashram Trust.

HIV is a common ailment faced by homosexual people and the old age home intends to educate and help people affected through an advanced medical unit. HIV awareness is not too extensive in the Indian demographic; this initiative to address such an imperative issue is noteworthy. In his highness words, he says the crematorium planned, is to ensure the gays and HIV patients receive same honor as any other -even after they pass away.

Here comes the punch line from the prince if you guys don’t object me adding the adjective - with great splendor. The old age home is open to all and doesn’t discriminate if a person is not gay or if that person is not HIV positive.

Here is a lesson to all of us.
Good look Prince Gohil. For all your noble deeds, you will still be a prince to me even if your family disowned you.

It takes more love to share the saddle than it does to share the bed

I've been riding bikes since I was 10 years old, starting with a Bajaj chetak my dad used for work. The scooter was what I’d love to call a limited edition. It was insanely heavy and for some reason it found a stable place in my heart. I remember taking it out every weekend and trying to max the speed limit on it. I just can’t remember the number of times my dad or his colleagues caught me speeding or jumping high up on a road bump. That would just result in me not being able to ride the bike for a couple of weeks ~ a fair bargain. Even the word Ecstatic I believe, cannot do justice to what I felt when I popped my first wheelie. When I showed my dad the same trick, I was completely deprived of the bike for a long long time.

I think it's very clear-cut: you either have motorcycles in your blood or you don't, and once that experience is there, it never fades away. It can be pushed back and down, but it never goes away.

My protracted and meandering journey with the bikes I’ve ridden till date has been a testimony on how to subdue and endure this passion. As I matured, I began to drop the need-for-speed and revitalize my motorcycle-riding experience into a pleasure enhancing adventure out into the world. There were occasional wheelies and stoppies just for the heck of it. You tend to respect that beast of a machine more each day. To me it was like having a soul mate. I fell in love with my ZZR, I named Dhannu (after a fable about a donkey my dad used to say while I was a kid) and I don’t think I can love anybody else (well except my folks) that way. You know how you get a warm feeling in you when you see somebody you really like. How your face canNOT stop smiling when that person approaches you. How you spend your nights knowing you would see the person again the following day. As creepy as it might sound that is exactly how I loved my bike. There is this girl who kinda made my heart dance a little recently which coincidentally reminded me of my bike and here you go a write up on my love. My only love!!

You share a bond with that special friend or whoever, and they can complete your sentences, sense how you would react to something, like you-for what you are and love you-for your defects. I feel my Dhannu completes me. I remember all those twists I took on those mountains I was riding. The bike was also a part of me contemplating those adrenaline gushing turns. This feeling is inexplicable and only those who are as crazy as me about these mean machines can understand what I am talking about.

It could be explained in the words of Paul Tetul (If I have to explain who this is, you are not qualified enough to read this!!)

You're the guy that'll be sneaking out of your bedroom at three o'clock in the morning to look at your bike. ~Paul Teutul, Sr., American Chopper, "Billy Joel"

I have seen past reminiscences invigorated into a smile as people who use to ride come over and talk to me about this bike: it has mystique and a bad-boy reputation and I can't go out on it without someone customarily sticking up a thumb in admiration or giving me a big grin as I glide by or pull up to a light (Yeah I used to stop at lights!). I hope I won’t be one of “those” who “used” to ride. There were days when I used to think ~ a day not ridden is a day lived short. It’s been a year and 2 months I have lost out of my precious life. When snow could not deter me from riding how a puny little job could bum me out of it?

Hang in there my friend, I will be there with you shortly or I shall die trying.