sex sex sex sex sex

As a child I don't ever recall speaking about sex with my parents.

What I do remember is a brief induction to sexual education in my final year at Primary School.

We were given a letter to take home to our parents which stated in quite clear terms that our sexual education was in their hands. That is to say, there were three videos that the school was going to show children, each with an increasing degree of, what I used to consider, rudeness of vulgarity. Parents had to tick the box and indicate which videos they would like their children to see.

1) A video which focused on the idea of gender difference. A video showing us what the other sex possessed which was so different to what we, as boys, had.

2) A video which talked about sexual intercourse and the resulting babies (note- condoms were not a part of the deal - it was only when I was a few years older that I realised that all sex didn't culminate in a child.

3) A video which featured a woman giving birth (this, for some strange reason was the most controversial, or so the school thought).

My mother ticked only the first two, clearly feeling at the time that subjecting me to a full blown labour would do me much more harm than good. Dare i say it, if she could see what I was up to now, she'd consider her worries perfectly justified.

Before handing the slip back to my teacher I remember taking a pen and ticking the third box. This was one of the first lies I ever told my mother.

The first two videos I don't remember at all, but the last sticks in my mind sharply.

I remember being repulsed by the child birth. All that blood and gore and screaming and all for the most ugly horrific looking mess to come out of you like something from an alien film. I was convinced that I, of all people, must have emerged in a silk pyjamas. (Note- I hadn't seen Alien at that time, but you know what I mean)

Needless to say, this journey of sexual liberation is something of which I am completely and utterly my own architect. My mother never sat me down and discussed sex, women, willies, any of that.

It was my curiosity that got the better of me. That feeling that I was missing out on something forbidden.

And now, as I sit at my desk, I'm wondering what it is about Indian parents that prevents them from discussing sex. That prevents them from telling their children that sex is something natural that people partake in as they grow older and something that, if done correctly, can provide immense pleasure.

It might be a religious thing, granted, but then how many Hindus actually know anything about Hinduism.

It might also have something to do with the arranged marriage that my parents (and most of my other family) had. The suppression of sexual desire until after marriage. The funny thing is, I doubt my parents talked about sex openly even after having had years of it and produced two children.

And so, perhaps it never occurred to them that their children might grow up in a world where sex was so readily available. A world where fewer and fewer people remain virgins until marriage.

I'm sure my mother will always consider me a virgin up until my wedding night.

And of the joy of sex, i expect, like so many others just like them, never really occurred to my parents. It was something people did. Something married people did.

Of course, all of this hypothesising might be completely wrong. My parents, may (and this would please me), bask in the glory of sex and be revolutionaries.

I'll just never know. Because we've never really talked about it.