Let Go, Blatant Theo-maniacs
Once upon a time, on a busy street, a sharply
dressed man walked at brisk, bubbly pace and entered a dry-cleaners. Inside, the
shirt had been over-soaked, the pant had been wrongly creased and the coat had
eerily puffed up. ‘Never mind’ he said, and left without a frown. ‘What a gay
man’, said the owner, who was expecting some drama and was glad on avoiding it.
That time gay meant something entirely different,
now it’s a stigmatic issue. While with aggressive penetration (sic), some pragmatic
countries have changed their stance from anti to pro, India still remains
paranoid and mumbling on whether or not to allow legality to the marriage of
similar sex or even a public relation for that matter. No wonder the closet door
is wobbling on like a turnstile.
The issue itself is perceived as a disease and an
unnatural state of mind and body. But, homosexuality, transgenderism, or any
form of varied orientation is not a tumor which can be uprooted or ignored till
life threatening circumstances beseech you to act. As usual, the stereotypical homosexuality
persona has been blown up ludicrously. If that were the truth, I think of it as
a solution to some of the most major problems. The issue of hunger and orphans
(especially African and Asian) would tone down at some random intervals, based
on when the ‘diet’ is on and Jolie adopts another to the brood. On a larger
scale, countries would rather bitch and not call each other, than threaten with
nukes & wars; stock markets would sway based on suaveness and trends, rather
than supply or demand.
And domestically,
the homosexual homeless person on the corner would be dapper and picky.
But then is any stereotype actually true?
For once,
leave all the political foreplay aside and look at the whole setup. Why is such
a personal issue used for elections, publicity and protests? Has the
acknowledgement on a massive scale somehow puckered up the high and mighty?
Next thing you know, popsicles would be banned for auto eroticism.
Today, the shop is still there, another man enters,
similarly dressed, finds himself in the similar scheme of things, although this
time, everything was done to near perfection. ‘OMG! You over soaked the shirt!
Why is the crease all like a cheap Botox? And the coat looks so puffy? You
ruined my ensemble. ‘AGH! Gay!’ bellowed the owner behind him, agitated, yet not
so surprised by all the drama.
