Before every 10-year-old had their nose in a smartphone, there lived a young man named Achyuta Sashwant. Born in the 1970s, he had been raised in a small town in Siliguri, a beautiful city known for its hills and military presence. He was one of the fortunate few to get an education from the only proper school in town that instructed in both English and Hindi.

Words such as 'tolerance', 'peace', 'self-acceptance' and 'dignity of life' were drilled into his pre-pubescent brain. But once he hit puberty, a stark realization hit him about his sexuality. Teased for being friends with girls, he was in fact, secretly attracted to the same sex.

Naturally, in a culturally endogamic, religious and tight-knit society, there was hardly any scope to be transparent about what he felt. Such attempts seemed to end with him landing up in a pit, from which he could only see the stark face of Hell. In its first circle was the burden of conforming to social and familial expectations, and at the core, there seemed to lingering hope in his mind of finding acceptance in an exogamous framework, the life of the big cities and towns he had only so far seen on the television screen.

So he worked as hard as a dog, pouring his heart and soul into convincing his dear parents to let him go outside the boundaries of his village, to a life that is successful in their eyes. At last, the price of endeavours brought him the gift he had been waiting for, and within a year, he found himself cooped up in dingy thin-walled rooms of a hostel in Pune to pursue a career in mechanical engineering.

With each passing day, his popularity soared in the college as he excelled one after another in numerous competitions but so did the rumours about him being a closet queer. All that popularity, however, did not hold an iota of joy for him. The eyes that hungered so impatiently for space, the mental energy that had been amassed so dutifully, seemed to wane in activities that he could care less for. Of what use was his labour, if the tree never bore a fruit?

Countless nights of restlessness haunted him, the growing frustration and uneasiness out of the growing conviction in the futility of his mission- all seemed to bring his emotion to ebb, just like a child realises that he is too little for the huge world. On top of that, being a religious college, preaching the idea of tolerance with shunning homosexuality and the stark contradiction of his fate, which commanded him to keep his identity suppressed, lest the preached dictates be turned to ash in mere seconds –seemed to make his eyes seeth in anger every time his eyes cast on the religious teacher.

One day, when the violent waters of agony in Achyuta's soul seemed to have brought a tide, he rose amid a class. He did not realize when his hands moved on their own and banged forcefully against the wooden desk. Neither his eyes were aware of the attention that his act had drawn from classmates nor did they care for that today's religious sermon was going to be followed by the special session of visiting Swami Prabhu Devganaga Prasad on "The Art of Divine Abstinence"

"Sir, only ten minutes are remaining," Achyuta asked, rubbing his fingers. "Can't we cut the sermon down already? After all, we would have to sit here for another two hours under that old guy after this."

"I am surprised to hear this from an honours student like you! 'Old guy'". Ramesh Sir put down the book on the podium and pressed against it. "Do you have any idea how devout that holy man is? To abandon society and all pleasures at the mere age of 16, live out with nothing by himself in the forest for 40 years, never, ever thinking of anything but God, having corrected so many of homose- I mean who turned away from God. It is his sheer benevolence and virtue that we have been blessed with his arrival and instead of reverence, you show such apathy?"

Achutya's hand gripped the desk as his mouth seemed ready to spout off what he had been dying to say at all these sessions, when a silhouette appeared outside the room and Swami ji entered, prompting everyone to stand up in the room and bow, except Achyuta.

"Achyuta, what the hell are you doing? Pay your respect already." His classmate warned him, which was ignored. Swami ji noticed the anomaly and smiled, walking past a furious Ramesh.

"Such ego is not good for the soul, child." Swami chuckled, planting his hand on Achyuta's shoulder as he stared back. "Don't think I am upset by your lack of respect, but I do feel pity for the pride that seemed to swell in your heart."

"Ego? Had I any, then perhaps I wouldn't have to bear this humiliation today, Swami ji." Achyuta enjoined his hands together as he attempted to leave before he was stopped.

"Humiliation? Didn't you want me to feel it, child? Now, having failed, do you stave for attention?"

"It is quite clear just which one of us is starving, Swami ji. "Achyuta laughed. "Having chased yourself to the forest, you must have a belly to fill. Don't worry, these brainless fools, conformists and yes-sayers, devout to you, are going to give your fill. Unlike you, for those of us who still have to come to grips with society's expectations, fast seems to come naturally. Abstinence is your brand. For those forsaken, it is second nature."

Swami's eyes rose, as he eyed Achyuta up and down, as his hands fell on the ear piercings and the latter's fingers before they turned to Ramesh, who understood the doubt at once.

"Oh yes, sir. He is the lone one on campus as I told him. Please forgive him. After all, he is just queer."

"Right. No worries, child. I am here as long as it takes to bring you back to Divine." Swami smiled brightly, grabbing Achyuta's hands, eyes resplendent with ego, words preaching egolessness.