TheSecretLoveBetweentheMuslim Boy and his Hindu Teacher

by Naqvi

 

Note by Calimach

 

Every one of these stories is illuminating, and each one is beautiful in its own way. The story of Naqvi, and of the love between him and his Hindu teacher, is beautiful in too many ways to count. One can only hope it will illuminate the minds and the hearts of whoever has the good fortune to read it.

 Andrew Calimach, Ed. Bucharest, March 2025

 

Rozi's Story

I am very old and have been away from pen and paper for a long time. Maybe I can't write as well as I used to. Maybe I'm not that well-educated, so forgive all the mistakes. My name is Naqviullah. People call me Baba. My age is now 69 years. But that childhood is still fresh in the heart. I was born in a small village in Punjab where I spent my life in the scent of soil and the shade of a neem tree. What people see in me today is an old man, but this old man has a story behind him. A story that is not only about hard work and struggle, but also about love and discovering myself. Me, a father to two sons and two daughters, and a grandfather to four adorable grandchildren. Life has given me a lot but there are some secrets that have been hidden in my heart for years. This story is not only about my childhood but also about the love that was in my heart and the self-knowledge that I got in my youth. The story of a time when life was simple but hearts were full. So let me take you on this journey of my childhood, where memories buried in the dust of time still warm my heart. And where, somewhere in these memories, I found my love and my self.

Ten years old, is this actually the age of understanding? Strange emotions had begun within me. Girls, their looks, conversation, and their clothes did not attract me as much as the strong bodies of the boys, their laughter, their mischief. I loved spending time with guys like me. But I didn't know what it was. No one in the village talked about it.

No books, no TV where I could understand what was happening to me. There was just a strange restlessness, a question that kept echoing in my heart, “Am I alone? Am I wrong?” I tried hard to suppress this feeling. I would try to play like a normal kid, try to talk to girls, but my heart was elsewhere. This realization wrestled with me for years. I felt that I was committing a sin, doing something wrong. I was afraid of what people would say if anyone found out. And then, at school, I saw him. His name was. yes, his name was Salim. He was my classmate. He was tall, well built, and his eyes, oh, his eyes! His eyes sparkled as he laughed. I loved spending time with him. We used to sit together for hours and talk and play. I was relieved to hear his words. I felt he understood me.

 One day, when we were coming back from school, we held each other's hands. I still remember that moment. I could feel the warmth of his hand inside me. In his eyes I saw the same love that was in my heart. But we were both children. We didn't know what this love was, what it meant. We were just feeling our feelings. But this was the time where it was impossible to understand these feelings. We were afraid, we were ashamed, and we were silent. His eyes, his smile, his silence, everything touched my heart. I knew, he wanted me too. We could both hear each other's heartbeats. But in those days love was considered a sin. We were taught that it was a crime. We had no words, no way to describe the feelings. We looked at each other, silent, but there was a storm in our hearts. Salim and I, we both knew we were meant for each other. His presence was a comfort to me, and his absence was a torment. We used to sit together for hours, talking and understanding each other even in silence. Salim's words, his style, his thinking, everything attracted me. We never shared our feelings with each other. This was the time, where love had to be hidden. We were afraid, of society, of people, and of ourselves. We knew what would happen if our love became public.

I could never express my feelings to Salim. Those words stuck in my throat. But that doesn't mean this silent love hasn't affected my life. In fact, it was around this time that I realized I was in love with a man, that I was a hum jins parast, an admirer of my own kind. Being like that was an unforgivable offense in the newly formed Pakistan. Those who took part in the Hindu-Muslim riots did not have a soft spot for me. I was afraid.

This fear of mine was visible in front of people but not in my mind and solitude. I remember, whenever I saw a boy, I felt a change in my body. My penis would tighten, I would look at the men around me differently. I was fascinated by men's bodies, their strength, their beauty. These feelings were new and confusing to me. I could not understand what was happening to me. I often sat alone and thought. Am I wrong? Are my desires sins?

I have never asked anyone to answer these questions. I was afraid that if I told anyone, they would think I was crazy or punish me. I kept trying to hide myself but these feelings kept raging inside me like a storm. Salim's love had shown me a new side of me. He taught me that love is not just between a man and a woman, it can be between two people. But admitting this fact at that time was a big challenge. I was living in a world where my being was considered a crime. And I watched this painful chapter of my life like a silent spectator.

Maybe God had a plan for me. I got my first love at the age of fifteen. It was a very troubling time for my country. My memory is not very good but I do remember that martial law was in force and political instability was at its peak. During this chaos I met a man who was a teacher at my school. He was among the Hindus who remained in Pakistan after partition. His father is said to have been a very wealthy merchant in the area, but hatred and instability slowly cost him everything. With all these things, his chance to go to India also ended. He was a quiet person, with a deep sadness hidden in his eyes. He would often get lost in class, as if deep in thought. There was a strange attraction in his voice that drew me towards him. He spoke Urdu fluently and his accent was very charming. His English was weak, but he was good at explaining things. There was a certain kind of swelling in his voice when he recited the poem in class. Like he's talking about his lost love.

I felt that he was looking at me again and again. At first I thought that maybe it was my misunderstanding, but when I saw it again, there was a special kind of attention in his eyes, it was as if they were reading me. I also started looking at him again and again.

Every time our eyes met, my heart felt a strange feeling. It was not just a look, but some silence that was my silent conversation, the silence of my heart was not under my control, and my eyes were like a magnet holding iron to itself. After these fifty-six turnings I still recall how I picked up my book and went to his desk. I opened the book and said, "Sir, I don't understand this line in particular." I looked into his eyes and waited for his answer. He looked at me and said, "Which line? Read it." His voice was soft, as if he was comforting me. I read that line, and his voice was melting in my ears and his words were reaching my heart.

After the class ended, I purposely stayed for a while, so that I could spend some more time with him. I started to leave the room, he stopped me and said, “You are very intelligent. I am sure you will be very successful in life.” There was such sweetness in his voice, he asked me to sit down. We talked for a while about books and poetry. Then he looked at me and smiled and said, “You know, you have beautiful eyes. They have a certain glow when you talk. As if some secret was hidden.” I blushed and lowered my eyes. My cheeks turned red. “You too talk very well,” I said softly.

He said with a small laugh, “Well, are you being influenced by what I'm saying?” I plucked up the courage and said, “When you comment on something, it looks like you've gone deeper into it.”

He smiled at me and said, “I like talking to you. Your questions, your thinking, everything is so unique.” Then he paused and said, “You know, when you ask questions in class, I stare at you. There's a look in your eyes, which I like very much.” I didn't say anything. He asked to change the subject, “Naqvi, will you understand the poem you were asking about today?” I replied, “Yes sir, I will understand.” “Poetry is a matter of the heart,” he said, “And not everyone understands the heart.” I asked softly, “Is your heart full of something too?” He looked at me and said, “Maybe.” From that day on I began to see him differently. His every word, his every move became important to me. I felt a strange attraction for him. It was a feeling I had never felt before. It was love, but love surrounded by fear and dread. I knew it was a dangerous love, but I couldn't stop myself.

It was a different time. The teacher was the most feared creature among the students. I remember running home and opening my books while others would play, and see my teacher. He never came and checked but we used to fear and respect him, not like today. Another very strange misconception was among the students, myself included, that the teacher does not love and cannot be loved. I don't know how it happened, but it was there and I believed it too. To us the teacher was an angry and serious man. There was always a sternness in his eyes and terror in his voice. When he entered the class, there was a commotion in the room. We all used to bow our heads and get lost in our books.

So, I was very surprised when I fell in love with my teacher. I could not believe that even a teacher can love. I thought, maybe it's just my imagination. But the feeling in my heart was very real. I knew I loved him. And I also knew it was a dangerous love. I used to stare at his face while he was teaching in class. The sadness in his eyes, the slight smile on his lips, the silver streaks in his hair, everything attracted me. There was a strange charm in his voice, which touched my heart. I felt like he was just talking to me. And when our eyes met, I felt like time stopped.

One day, after making eye contact and smiling for a while, my teacher Harishchand Chandra asked me to meet him after school. There were no separate rooms for teachers in those days. After school I went out and remembered that Sir had asked me to meet him after school. I was standing outside the gate. My friend said, “Come on, why are you standing at the gate and not going home?” I replied, “No, I'll go back later, you go.” He said, “Come, come with us, we will raid Mushtaq's mangoes.” “Sir Harishchand has asked me to meet him after school,” I said. They all laughed and chirped, “Oh, Sir Harishchand and Naqvi.”

I picked up a stone and said, “Don't say that, it's nothing, just shut up.” I threw the stone a short distance from him and they ran away laughing calling my name.

I waited for five minutes, and Sir Harishchand appeared in the school yard. He put his books on the rack of his bicycle and came over, pushing the bicycle. “Naqvi, I thought you were gone,” he said. “No sir, you asked me to wait, I was waiting for you,” I replied shyly. With a smile and awe, he said, “Let's walk now.” I started walking with him. After several minutes of awkward silence, he asked, “Naqvi, how are your studies going?” I replied “OK, sir.” Then there was a strange silence. We had nothing in common to talk about. He broke the silence and said, “How is your family?” I replied “OK, sir.” And then silence. He looked worried, restless, and different today. “It's very difficult in this modern age, and they've put martial law on it, which is even more difficult.” I could not say anything about the country's economic problems and political instability.

After some time he said, “Naqvi, I asked you to wait for a reason. I know you must be wondering why I asked you to wait?” I smiled without looking. He said, “Naqvi, I don't know what you would think of me, I wish I wasn't confused, but for some time now I have felt that you are looking at me.” A shock ran through my whole body, my mind froze, a panic came over me that I had been caught. I think I turned pale or red, I don't know, but my face got really hot and my hands got sweaty. He said, “I don't have any  problem with it, I like it. If there is something from you then it's great, because your beauty also attracts me.” Him saying this, my legs began to tremble, my body began to tremble even on that hot summer day, as if it were a cold day and I was shivering. He looked at my face and said, “No, no Naqvi, forgive me, don't be scared, it's not bad, it's normal. I just wanted to tell you my feelings. I can clearly see that you're scared, please don't tell anyone, people will kill me. I'm a Hindu man, I won't hurt any boy.”

My legs were shaking as if there was no life in them. Everything was a blur. I was just trying to get out of this terrible situation. My heart was pounding as if my ribs would burst. There was silence everywhere, but I could only hear my own heartbeat in my ears. Harish, my teacher, was scared himself, but was trying to calm me down. His voice trembled, as if he were in deep trouble. “Prepare yourself for God.” The panic in his voice was evident. “I am your teacher. People will misunderstand us.” His eyes were pleading, as if they were begging for his life.

I looked at him, helplessness and fear in my eyes. I wanted to say something but the words stuck in my throat. “Naqvi, for God's sake, don't tell anyone.” His voice dropped. “I will fall at your feet, don't tell if you don't want to. Your people thirst for my life.” The lines of fear were deepening on his face. “Harish…” My voice barely came out. “I...I don't understand…”

Tears started flowing from my eyes. “I... I'm scared. I'm scared, I'm confused, I won't tell anyone, this is all new to me, no one has ever said this to me before.” “Naqvi, don't be scared.” Harishchand put his hand on my shoulder, his hand was also shaking. “Just don't tell anyone. I'll never forget your kindness.” His eyes held fear and pleading as well as a strange helplessness. It is as if they were trapped in a trap from which it was impossible to get out.

“People... what will people say?” I asked in a trembling voice. “People will say anything, Naqvi.” Harishchand took a deep breath. “You shut up, that's the best.” I had tears in my eyes, and a deep hole in my heart. I didn't know what to do. Fear, helplessness and confusion, all combined to paralyze my mind. There was silence, only the pounding of my heart and Harish's heavy breathing. I knew I had to make a decision. “It's okay, you don't need to say anything now, take your time,” Harishchand said with a sigh of relief.

But I was so scared that it seemed impossible to make a decision. Harishchand was afraid that the reason for looking at him was not love, and he was afraid that I would tell someone. But he was relieved when he realized I wouldn't tell anyone. I didn't leave his side right away, I kept walking with him until our ways parted. Then we both went to our respective homes.

After this incident, my life was caught in a strange conflict. The real reason for my anxiety was the novelty of the situation. I was looking for love, and yes, I was interested in Harish. I never expected him to love me. In school, I was often shy. I wasn't paying attention in class. I hesitated while answering the questions and often gave wrong answers. My friends noticed my changed state, but I was unable to say anything to them. I lived in solitude, all the time Harish's words echoed in my mind. At home I was quiet and sad. My mother sensed my anxiety, but I couldn't tell her anything either. At night I would stay up late, walk on the roof and look at the stars in the sky. Only one question kept running through my mind: should I say yes to Harish?

I was afraid of what people would say if I said yes. I was afraid that Harish's heart would break if I refused. I was afraid that my life would be ruined if anyone found out about this secret. After a few days, I felt my heart pulling towards Harish. I realized that I loved him. I thought that if I refused I would miss the biggest opportunity of my life. I decided that I would say yes to Harish. I knew it was a difficult decision, but I also knew it was the right one. I also thought that we shouldn't care if people misunderstand us.

The last term of school was over. Children were running out of the classroom screaming. I was purposely delaying packing up my books, my eyes kept drifting towards Harish. I wanted him to come closer to me, to talk to me. My heart was pounding. I saw Harishchand coming towards me. There was anxiety in his voice. “Naqvi, can you stay for a moment? I have something to talk to you about.” I nodded and put my books in my bag.

When the class was empty, Harishchand came over to me. “Naqvi, have you thought about what I said that day?” Harishchand asked, his eyes meeting mine. I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Harish, I have thought.” I said slowly. “And?” Harishchand asked, his voice soft. He came closer to me and held my hand. “Naqvi we should not care about people, our love is enough for us,” he said with conviction in his voice. I looked at him, tears welling up in my eyes. “But Harishchand, is not easy,” I said. “I know Naqvi. But we will face every difficulty together,” Harishchand said, his voice full of courage. I looked at him silently. “I... I love you.” I said, a new boldness in my voice.

Harish's eyes lit up. I barely said “OK,” and picked up my bag and hurried out of the class. I couldn't stand there any longer. My heart was pounding. I was in love with a man, loved by a man. I felt stupid, wondering why I hesitated, why I took so long?

Maybe it was the clerics, and my people who hated love between men and boys. I walked slowly, smiling for no reason, in my heart I was still afraid to keep the secret. But my mind was focused on Harish. I was thinking, what will happen now? How will we hide our relationship? I was walking towards my house, I was confused. I was happy, scared, excited, worried. I was following a path I knew nothing about.

I didn't care if I was wrong or right, I knew I was in love and I said yes, so now I have to stick with it. For a while I was shy, I avoided him at school. Often I could not look at him when he came to class. Yes, I was constantly looking at him when he wasn't looking at me. But when he looked back, I had to avert my eyes. One day he was teaching, I was watching him. He taught us an article and asked us to summarize it, “Who will summarize it?” And he looked straight at me and said, “Naqvi, stand up.” I laughed and didn't stand up. He angrily said, “Stand up, Naqvi. I said, ‘Stand up.’” I was angry but when I looked at everyone I stood up. He asked me and I stubbornly did not answer on purpose. He said, “Naqvi, be serious in class.” I said nothing and sat back in my seat. I remained silent. Later, when he wanted to talk to me, I didn't. I ignored him for two days.

One day when the school closed, he caught me, he came over fast and asked me to come with him. My friends didn't like it but they couldn't say anything. He said, “Why are you ignoring me, Naqvi?” I didn't say anything. He grabbed my hand and I shook it free. He said, “Are you angry about what happened in class that day?” I replied, “Thank God,

Harishchand you remember.” He replied, “My dear, sometimes I have to be your teacher, sometimes your elder, sometimes your lover. How will you do well in life if I treat you only as a lover everywhere? I am afraid that my love will ruin you. You should study, work, and sometimes pray. I am your lover, I don't just want you, I want you to be good.” Angry, I didn't respond, I ran away from him. I didn't understand how what he was saying would benefit me in the future.

Yes, at that age I can say that he was my biggest guide, even bigger than my father, because my father always asked me to do housework, but Harish saw my future so that my life could be better.

He was always kind to me. There was no technology or fancy stuff involved in our relationship. To be honest, sometimes I wanted to see him. To be honest, at that time I was wandering like a lost soul. Can one imagine circling a lover's house ten times just to see or meet him? I have done this countless times. I walked through his door, hoping to see him out just once, and that would calm me down. Yes, I found him out several times. One day I found him outside, and it was the first time I entered his house. To be honest, we were not so open minded at that time. We were told that these are the bad guys. I saw small idols of his deities in his house and the smoke of incense around them. I went in, he introduced me to his wife as his student and I felt bad because I wanted him to say I was his lover. Now I understand that things don't happen that way.

His wife was the first to say, “Why did you bring him in? His people will say it is forbidden and they will harm him and us.” It was a bad comment but still true. He said, “Sushma, this is just a boy and he is not our enemy. Make some tea for him and he will go away.” His wife did not do it happily but she made some tea for me.

I quicklydrank it and went out. Harishchand followed me to the door. I said, “Harish, why don't you become a Muslim?” He looked at me in surprise and said, “Why Naqvi? Are you preaching?” I replied, “No, just asking.” He said, “Naqvi, if I can leave my religion, what guarantee does anyone have that I will not leave you?” Frankly, it was my bad upbringing speaking, my home environment, I didn't have an answer. He said, “Never mind my wife, she's had a hard time since our business closed. She's a good woman.” He was trying to justify her actions but to me it was a reason to be jealous. “Then why don't you live just with her?” I said angrily. He replied, “Ah, Naqvi my dear, you get angry very quickly.” He hugged me and kissed my forehead as his wife called his name and he called out, “Coming.” And gave me another kiss and I left with a pounding heart and trembling legs because it was the first time I had been kissed and it was so good that I forgot my anger.

Our relationship was like an old marriage, plenty of room for shame and love and lack of knowledge. Our relationship developed mostly on the way to school. Having sex is an important aspect of love as I see it, but what could we do on the road? For us, love was walking together, holding hands when no one was looking, even being teacher and student. Love for us was seeing each other and talking to each other. I don't know if we were primitive or if these modern people are primitive who see love as incomplete without penetration. All our love was just kissing on the lips when we thought no one was looking, sometimes putting his hand in my pants and walking with me, rubbing the muscles of my hips with his fingers as we walked, but we never sexed.

He never groomed me for penetration. He often said, “I have a wife to do that with, I just like to feel you and talk to you.” I was also afraid of penetration, maybe it was in my instincts. But we just touched, hips touching, me touching his penis and kissing, that was all our love. Compared to today we rarely met, we used to walk and talk but I was afraid that I would be sexually involved and it never happened between us. Maybe it was his way of loving a boy or maybe he was a true kind of lover.

I did not know when the eight months passed, walking with him on these paths. I was so happy that, what can I say? My happiness was evident on my face. My friends often asked why I was so happy. One of my best friends, Saud, asked several times, and each time I said nothing. But one day, not knowing what happened, maybe I wanted to express my love, I told him, “Harishchand Sir told me that he loves me.” He was surprised and said, “Nauz Ballah, this Hindu told you this?” There was serious distaste in his tone. He was not surprised that it was a man, but that he was a Hindu. I told him the whole story, and he started trying to get me out of the relationship. He said, “Naqvi, this is not right at all. How can you be with a Hindu? They have killed our people in wars, and they are our enemies.” I replied, “Harishchand is not like them. He is from our region, he is our own.” He replied, “He may be yours, but not ours. He is an infidel, and he will go to hell. If you do the same, you will go to hell too. There is still time.” My answer was simple, “Deciding who goes to heaven and who goes to hell is God's job, not ours.” He was very angry about this. Angrily he said, “I'm telling you I won't let you go like that. Come with me to the mosque, ask for forgiveness, and you'll be forgiven.” At that time, instead of following him, I followed my heart. I didn't go to the mosque, but if I was wrong, I apologized. This was the point where my friend got very angry with me. He showed that he cares about me a lot and won't let me go astray.

My relationship continued for eight months. One day, my friend's father came to our school with a complaint that the school environment was not good. I had no idea what it was all about. When he came, his son was in school. I thought he might have had something to say about that. When he came out half an hour later, he had already started the fire. Being a staunch Muslim, he felt it was his duty to stop every wrongdoing. My father was summoned to school, and I was dragged before our principal and Harish. My father came storming in, “What's wrong, principal, why did you call me? Don't you know we have work? I can't come to your school every other day!” He slammed the door shut and angrily came in. The principal replied softly, “Tareq sir, you know your job well, but do you know your son?” My father looked at me, his anger sinking into a deep well of embarrassment. There was a question in his eyes, “What have you done, Naqvi?” I remained silent, my tongue as if dumb.

He asked the principal, “What happened?” The words that the principal said stuck in my heart like a dagger, “Naqvi Sahib has fallen in love, he does not come to this school to study but for love.” And he turned to me, “You sir have fallen in love with Harish.” As he said this, my father looked at me intently, his hands as if lifeless, his face pale. Abu asked in a trembling voice, “Son, what am I hearing?” I immediately replied, “Abba, it's all a lie, there's nothing like that.” I looked at Harishchand and said, “He is only my teacher, nothing else.” Harish's face lacked the joy of escape, the pain of my words clearly visible in his eyes. “Ahmad Sahib has complained that his child has been told this by your son,” said the principal. I immediately said, “I didn't say anything. Even if it had happened, I would have told you. I can swear by the Qur’an that there is nothing like that.”

When I swore on the Qur'an, everyone became silent. I knew that the principal knew everything, but perhaps out of compassion he sided with me and suppressed the matter. On the other hand, he also apologized to my father for hurting him. My father was very proud of my innocence, and he left with a big chest. But I could not meet Harish's eyes. Everyone was happy that there was nothing like that, but a sea of fear was pounding in my heart, “Today I was saved, how long will I be saved?” All day at school I was thinking, my mind was so burdened that I decided to end it all out of fear, because for me my father was first, everything else came later. Harishchand met me after school, and I told him that I can't do all this anymore. He tried for days to stop me, but who can stop the leaving? Harishchand didn't teach us after that day, because the principal knew that there was a problem, maybe he saved my life or maybe Harish's. Harishchand watched me everyday, all the time, and I did too, but never dared to speak. My heart was bursting with pain, I was alone, broken, and helpless.

People say that time heals every wound, but time doesn't heal any wound, look at me, I still remember this years-old love. To this day I feel sad for not being brave that day.

Time heals nothing, time only teaches you to live with pain. Everything in life is like that, it's just that if I had done it, maybe it would have happened, but I did something very wrong by not doing it. In my own time as a teacher I realized what Harishchand felt when he saw me. Now it is too late, so late that I no longer have trust in my own life. I understand that love is not based on color, race, religion, or looking at a man or a woman, love is all there is. Maybe nowadays love is easy and has become so dirty, but what a time that was, what a purity that was, what a love that was! I only pray now that, my God, may the late Harish's soul rest in peace.

+++++

 

“The Silenced BoysSpeak Out”

a survey for the participants of th eproject

 

“CHILDREN SPEAKING TRUTH TO LIARS:

Modern Bacha Bazi Culture Through the Eyes of the Boys”

 

A comment by Calimach

Dear friend, thank you for being generous and brave, to reveal your love, your suffering, and your wisdom. I have been humbled and amazed by every story, and by every boy who has told of his joy and his pain.

But many people, in the West as well as in the East, will have a hard time accepting the truth that you express in your testimonial. It would be helpful if you could reflect on your experience by answering the questions below. Think of it as an interview.

Thank you again, to all of you. You have taught me more than you can imagine, and you have set my heart and my mind free in all kinds of ways. And you have shown to the whole world the beauty and power of natural man, freed from the bonds of fear and blind obedience.

Andrew Calimach, Ed.

March 8, 2025

 

The Survey

What is your pen name?  Naqvi

What country and province did you grow up in?  Punjab, Pakistan

What is your present age?  69

How old were you when you fell in love with a man?  14

1. Naqvi, what moved you to take part in this project?

After staying in shadow for years, being afraid and ignored and I have never had anyone to talk to about my love I have been in, and I was not able to convey to people what I felt, what I wanted, and who I was, that was very hard for me. It was not a very good thing, from my childhood it started bothering me and now I felt the need to speak out. So to share all the pains I had I took part in this project .

2. Was it difficult for you to share your story, and if so, why?

Yes, a man with grandchildren at the final stage of his life saying this all is very hard. It is like re-thinking my whole life once again and re-visiting all those events so that is both easy and hard for me.

3. Now that you have written your story, can you talk about any second thoughts you may have?

At least, I will die in peace now.

4. Before writing your story, did you talk to anyone about your experiences?

No , I have always lied that I am not a man or boy lover.

5. If you were not able to talk to anyone, how did that make you feel?

When I was younger it was fine because I spent most of my time playing and busy but now when I became older I was confined in the walls of my house with nothing to do just thinking about me and my life, it became harder everyday. A question occurred to me that if no one is listening and I am not able to speak, maybe I have been wrong all my life, and that became guilt.

6. How has writing the story of your love for an older man changed the way you feel about yourself? Has it made a difference in your life?

What change could now happen? All I have harvested from this project is peace.

7. Do you see your society differently, now that you have revealed your secret love to the world?

 Now my time has almost ended, I am hopeless of finding any love at this age. Now whatever my society says to do, I have to do it. I am trying to die quietly. Yes, one thing has happened, and that is now my society cannot fix my life or ruin it. Death is getting nearer every second and I am sad, I am very disappointed in my society.

8. What results would you like this project to have in your own land and elsewhere?

Now, I wish for peace and acceptance for young fellows yet to come. I think it is really very important to recognize these boys and help them. I don’t want another Naqvi in his old age to be sad despite being right. We were never told and we were never educated and I want that education for all the young boys to come so they live a good life and a happy one. I want the next generation of man lovers to be brave and to be happy.

9. What were and are the benefits of your relationship with your lover?

Those were the old days, in that time there were no benefits we could have from a man. At that time love was pure and love was noble. I think happiness was all I got.

10. What are the drawbacks or harms that you have experienced as a result of that relationship?

No drawbacks, I will be in hell if I will lie.

11. Once you are settled down and making a decent income, will you look for a wife and raise a family? Why?

[The respondent has many children and many grandchildren.]

12. Now that you are a man, would you want to love a boy? Why?

I have loved many boys and the reason was that I found boys attractive, they are so pure and innocent that even if a man forces himself not to love he will end up losing his heart.

13. How old is your ideal boy when first falling in love? And how old when he is too old for sexual acts? Why?

Throughout my life, I have picked boys of 14 to 17. I don’t know why, I just liked that age.

14. What is the youngest age a boy can be in a love relationship with a man, if they refrain from acts of penetration? Why?

I think a boy of 14 years old is the best boy to be loved sexually or without sexual act involved. These boys have the charm and beauty and they are my personal
favourite..

15. If everybody knows that penetration is extremely painful for the boy, why do you think that even men who truly love their boy still try to do it?

 That is true, many men do it. Every man has their own reason. The reason I did it was because it was my personal choice, I enjoyed spending intimate time with a boy. But every time I have done that I have always asked the boy. I have never forced a boy into any sexual act. Because sometimes I even felt bad when I made a boy cry so I had to withdraw at that moment. I don’t know, I could not stop myself.

16. How is the term “bacha bazi” generally used, from what you have heard personally?

 I have heard it as a sin, crime, rape, and molestation, that was the reason that I swore all my life that I was not a bachbaz because there are many men on the earth acting as God ready to punish. I think this term has always been shown in a bad way. It is the fault of our education system and of our minds.

17. What is bacha bazi, in your opinion?

 In my opinion it is the opposite of how it is referred to. How can emotions and attraction be sin and crime? Are the people not mad that what I do is crime and what they do is right? It is a simple love. It is not from [somewhere else], it is in the nature of humans, what can I do if not everyone can find this love in their heart?

18. What proportion of all the men of your province would you say have loved a boy? One out of ten? Ten out of ten? Or what number in between? And why do you believe that?

 As per my observation every man is a boy lover. Some find this part of them, some don’t.

19. What proportion of all the boys of your province would you say have loved a man? One out of ten? Ten out of ten? Or what number in between? And why do you believe that?

 Every boy is a man lover. For some it is discovered, for some not, but if you are unable to find yourself doesn’t mean that you are not a man lover.

20. How do you see change in love and way of loving, after the introduction of mobile phones/Internet in your society?

 I don’t see any change, boys are still boys, men are still men and they still love. It is not made for love, it is just a communication tool.

21. If you have something to say about this project, please do so.

 I think this project has given me happiness and strength. Even if it is late now you have given me courage and happiness. I pray for your success to achieve your goals and what you want .

22. If you have a message, or advice, for the world, you may write it here.

 It is important to be happy, it doesn’t matter how as long as you don’t cause pain to anyone. In the end you have got yourself all alone, make peace with yourself, you would be happy. Happiness is a blessing.

23. If you wish, you may add here anything else that you feel needs to be said, long or short.

 This survey is very long for a blind old man like me, hahahah