“Yes… LGBT... dey are me, Lobo, Gogoi, Banerjee and Thampi. De forward line-up from my 1980 Glaxose Football team, LGBT we called ourselves
Illustration/Uday Mohite
Lobo Lobo had moved into my home, temporarily. It was vexing, that he hadn’t yet met my spitfire Gen X neighbour, Natasha aka Nats who had gone home to Hoshiarpur.
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Little did I know what tsunamis awaited me, when my front door experienced multiple thumps, with repeated pressings of my door bell.
Lobo Lobo was disturbed from his morning ritual of praying to the Almighty, as the noises persisted.
“Oh foe, who is dis mad person, Dikuna men!” he shouted.
“Uhm Lobo Lobo, that would be my...,” began.
Lobo Lobo opened the door.
“...My neighbour Nats,” I finished.
Nats stood there looking like a cross between Wonder Woman and the Hulk.
“What your hurry is, world is coming to an end or wot men... uhm young lady,” Lobo Lobo demanded of Nats.
(Double eye roll + tea pot pose)
“Who’s this dame with no shame, Dikuna men!”
“Uhm… Lobo Lobo meet Natasha my neighbour, Nats this is Thelonious Lobo my cable TV tech master! He’s staying with me for uh sometime,” I began.
“Is he building you a new TV that he should take up residence? Is he homeless?”
An Animal Planet/Nat Geo moment followed as these two faced off, sniffing each other out, low guttural growls emanated from them.
“So Nat’s, how was your trip?” I asked.
“Dude, some real shit happening while I was away! I’m unable to come to grips with many of our nation’s regressive issues. How can they claim ‘same-sex marriage’ is an urban elitist agenda?”
“Wot wot, wot wot it means?” Lobo Lobo asked.
“They’re saying that same-sex marriage is only relevant to a small bunch of rich city folk not the mass population. So I ask, how is a small town, closet homosexual allowed to ‘come out’, let alone marry?”
“Boss same-sex marriage is a solid problem ya!” Lobo Lobo blurted.
(Triple eye roll + steam out of ears)
“Whaaaaa… Whaaat?” Nats asked.
“Same-sex is socko unpractical,” Lobo Lobo emphasised.
“I knew it, just knew that you’d be this this pseudo-modern, seemingly forward looking, seemingly non judgie guy, but actually you’re a retro-reggro homophobic against bisexuality, anti-pansexiuality, intersexuality, non binary, anti-transgender, anti-cisgender, just existing in some stone age era!”
Lobo Lobo went white, then blue, then red-faced.
“Hey hey hey… you have some solid agrro issues, young lady. Dikuna men, just take dis dame to a shrink men! Wot bak-bak she is doing.”
“You believe that everything should be binary, men should only wed women, right? If two men love each other, or if two women need to share intimacy, then what? Holy matrimony goes out of the window for them, right?” Nats continued.
“Miss Natasha... you don’t unnerstand.”
“I’ve met hundred of guys like you, seemingly liberal, but actually as narrow minded as they come!”
“Hey hey… I have no probs wid blinking same-sex marriages Natasha got it. Arre you can marry a tomato for all I care! My own son Ronaldo wears pink pants, listens to Taylor Swift, and applies red nail polish, he has one boyfriend Romario Gomes from Borivli East only… so take one chill pill... you don’t unnerstand my point, ok?”
“Let him speak, Nats,” I asked of Ms Tsunami.
“Men, if de time comes ‘ow Ronaldo will get married to his boyfraand Romario in our church Our Lady of Perpetual Succour? Tell me. Wot Fadder Pompidou will say, ‘Ronaldo Clarence Claude Lobo, do you take Romario Cabral E Sa Gomes as your lawfully wedded bride… bridegroom’ Wot he’ll say men, ‘I now pronounce you man and husband?’ ’You may now kiss de bride... bridegroom’. And all de ladies in my fam... wot dey are to be… bridesmaids? How I’ll walk blinking Ronado down de aisle. You don’t tink dese are complications. Chhe!,” Lobo Lobo said a tad excitedly.
Nats seemed a trifle placated
“So Mr Lobo Lobo, you are pro-LGBT, after all.”
Lobo Lobo perked up.
“Arrey wot you tink, of course I love LGBT. Always loved LGBT.”
“Really?” Nats asked
“Yes… LGBT... dey are me, Lobo, Gogoi, Banerjee and Thampi. De forward line-up from my 1980 Glaxose Football team, LGBT we called ourselves.
(Triple eye roll)
Natasha left in a huff.
“Its ‘obvio’ we can’t agree on anything, Mr Lobo Lobo,” she concluded.
Rahul daCunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, photographer and traveller. Reach him at rahul.dacunha@mid-day.com
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