I was called for an interview to a self financing college to teach English. It was in a place called Kuttikanam, a tiny hill station in Kerala. I started my journey in the wee hours of morning by bus. The road was narrow and curved like a serpent. The bus was groaning like an old hag while taking the hair-pin bends. A child sitting on the laps of her father was fiddling with a cell. All of a sudden she became uneasy and then the father produced a plastic bag and she puked into it. Many people on the bus also started to retch. I being a Piscean more attuned to the watery depths have never in my life puked on journeys. Even while travelling in the sea on boat, I was completely at ease. During that time there was a French lady who was feeling so nauseated and was puking at regular intervals. Smoke was brewing out the hills like a ghost. One could see whiffs of clouds slowing escaping the paint brush of an artist and floating above the road. I had a book –The Interpretation of Dreams by Sigmund Freud but I never felt like opening it up. The air became an aromatic garden and the scent of tea leaves, cloves like cardamom wafted through the air like fragrant angels. Some day (I wish I could win the First Prize of the Onam Bumper lottery 2015 of 7 Crores held by the Kerala State Government) I hope to build a cottage house and stay in these hills and write the entire day. The interview turned to be routine and mundane. The pay to my surprise was appallingly a beggar, just 150 $ of cash for a month. Though the purpose of visit was a disaster the tryst with nature turned out to be surreal as a poem.
I have read the autobiography of Jung—Memories Dreams and Reflections when I was in my teen age. Even till now I am fascinated with his concept of the Collective Unconscious, a theory according to which archetypes (memories of the collective psyche) become genetic implants for the reservoir of the conscious. Here I would like to develop of case study of Women of Kerala who behave rather bizarrely during religious Christian meetings. Well after my family proselytized into hard core Pentecostal faith, though I am not a believer, I used to attend religious meetings. Most of these meetings centered on healing people and also casting out evil spirits. I have encountered many women who are possessed by the so called unclean spirits. They all exhibit the same unusual behavior. When the pastor-preacher touches their head and shouts: ‘Come out in the name of Jesus’…the touched woman becomes hysterical and then falls to the ground and starts rolling and mimicking a serpent with their hands. Some of these women also untie their sari and loosen their hair and hang their tongues out and behave as though they are Goddess Kali. Many of these women claim to have been healed by the intercessor of Christ that is the pastor a claim which I in my rational mind refuse to believe. After they become healed, on being questioned as to what they were doing, they would remark they know nothing. My analysis of this mysterious behavior is on both Freudian and Jungian lines. From a Freudian perspective this zany behavior can be explained as a manifestation of repressed libido. The Indian middle class woman is a symptom of being sexually frustrated. The serpent is definitely is a phallic symbol. I should definitely say: men of Kerala fuck your wives well. Women by behaving like Goddess Kali, sticking their tongues out and hanging their hair loose are directly conveying from the unconscious that their libido is not satisfied. In real life women rarely get a chance to express their repressed. Analyzing this perplexing behavior from the Jungian collective unconscious would be: are these vestiges of Serpent worship which are widely prevalent in India and these practices would have been transmitted through the unconscious as memory traces. In many of these serpent temples it is women who do the rituals. From a psychoanalytic perspective it would be difficult to avoid both Freudian and Jungian conjectures.
By the time I was in the fifth grade, I was already initiated to the fountain of lustful pleasures. During those days there was no internet, no CD players. Of course there were video cassettes.
My acquaintance with pornography happened with the friendship of a neighbor mechanic. He used to supply me with porn magazines which carried sleazy, lewd photos of women and also graphic narratives. Most of these magazines were in vernacular Malayalam.
Yes my sexuality …I did not have the maturity understand, but nonetheless was awakened. I used to keep these magazines hidden in my chest of drawers containing my school books.
Yes when I used to look at the nude women, mostly sluts with enlarged breasts, with salaciously jutting out black nipples, with the mount of Venus in between sensuous thighs…Oh my groin became a trembling petal caressed by the torment of an angry storm. I really didn’t know what was happening to me? I used to masturbate, putting a lot of pressure on my phallus like a marching army … During this time I was plagued with sin and guilt.
I used to love the way the narratives used show me how hungry hands stroke and fondle a woman. As I grasped her in wanton lust, I squeezed her melon breasts and her enlarged black nipples…From there I wander like a man possessed to her rounded skyscraper, her luscious buttocks…by the time she was stroking me ….harder, muttering, moaning in pleasure….and then she knelt down and was a nymphomaniac sucking me ……I was so overcome with the oasis of passion and I mounted her…She spread her buxom thighs across and inserted mine into hers with a vigor of a flooded river….I cannot wait any longer….I play with mine and funnel like a cyclone into her fleshy orifice and explode like the waves of the Arabian Ocean…..
It was only when I became middle aged; I was able to use the internet for pornography…. Far from the desire for capturing the sacred and secret feminine by machine like thrusts and disseminating liquid pearls and then lying dead, my mental orientations shifted to the gaze of lesbian rituals…. Till today I wonder how those women mainly from the Occident are able to act so well in front of a gazing camera. Do they drug themselves? Or is it natural. Or is it merely a profession.
I have also come to realize than a woman’s body is so different from mine and its source of pleasure is multifarious. The zones of erogenous stimulation are many. I get a hard on by watching lesbians in foreplay and I become so excited when they devour each other’s lips and tasting the magic of molten lava.
I also wonder in the transition of my thought to pleasures of being fulfilled as a lesbian voyeur. Why I am becoming effeminate….? Is it natural….. Instead of being a guilt ridden dodo, I have come to accept my sexuality and its gratifications of being in multiplicity. I also long to have genuine women companions who are willing to have lesbian orgy in front of my feasting eyes and gratifying my surreal longings of being a gazer.