I met Ghirish a few hours after my arrival in Bombay. I saw him staring at me from the crowd milling around Chowpatty Beach. He had the longest eyelashes I had ever seen. They shaded startling green eyes deeply set in a nut-brown face. He looked to be in his early twenties.

He ventured a shy smile, and I smiled back. He came over to me right away and stuck out his hand.

"I'm Ghirish," he said. "I'm a student."

I told him I was a freelance journalist on foreign assignment for an East African group. I had come to India by sea from Mombasa and was looking for an inexpensive place to stay for at least six months. My bags were still at the docks.

His emerald eyes sparkled. "Why don't you stay at the student hostel with me for a few days," he suggested, "and then maybe I can help you find a more permanent place."

"That's a generous offer, young man," I responded, "but I don't think an old fellow like me would be welcome in a student hostel."

He laughed. "You will be my guest. Many times our fathers or our grandfathers stay with us when they come to the city. In India, we are respectful of men of your years."

I was as much impressed by his generous offer as by his handsome face. I wasn't sure how much the offer included, but I was certainly willing to give it a try. He went back to the docks with me and helped me carry my bags by bus to a teeming section of the city called Parel.

At the hostel, I made the disappointing discovery that Ghirish shared a room with four other young men. It appeared that he was only being kind in inviting me to stay. His roommates were, like him, pre-medical students in their twenties working their way through school by performing menial tasks at a public hospital that served the poorest people in the city.

They were a decent lot, and I quickly formed friendships with each of them. I shared their velour mats and pebble-filled pillows on the floor of the room and slept, as they did, in pyjamas.

I found some of their customs curious. They were surprisingly affectionate. They had the habit of bathing together, scrubbing each other down with scented soaps and firm brushes. Despite being exceedingly masculine in appearance, they often held hands and spent the nights chastely wrapped in one another's arms. There were frequent kisses on the forehead, and they were prone to wrestle around the floor like children.

Yet they never gave a hint of overt homosexuality, and carried on lofty conversations about the future of India and their own hopes to establish happy homes with wives and children. I was mystified.

As an American of mostly British descent, I was used to more restraint among men who were apparently straight. Of a generation culturally conditioned to hide the fact that I was gay, I tended to stiffen when they became overly affectionate with me.

The other four were more or less paired off, while Ghirish paid all of his attention to me. He draped himself across me every night, kissed me on the forehead and went right to sleep. It was he who scrubbed me in the bath, and I was expected to do the same for him.

This might have continued indefinitely if I hadn't become infatuated with Ghirish. As the days passed, the magic of his intellect and charm whittled away at my resistance. I began to weaken considerably and found myself more accepting of his nocturnal embraces. I began to kiss him on the forehead, too, and was less reluctant to accept the hand he was forever pressing into mine.

One night I could contain myself no longer. When he leaned over to kiss me, I shifted my head so he touched me on the lips. He responded warmly. My hands began to explore his slight, but muscular, body. I found him in a state of erection.

Our four roommates lay sleeping only inches away in the tiny room. In such close confinement, any movement would surely wake them up. I asked myself what to do next.

As if reading my thoughts, Ghirish settled the question. He suddenly sat up in the semi-darkness and poked the others awake. Then he gently pulled off both our pyjamas.

The others rose up on their elbows. Two of them lit cigarettes.

"Go on, Ben," whispered Ghirish. "Please don't stop now."

I wasn't used to public performance, but I could see I was expected to perform. So I gave myself up to passion, and Ghirish, hesitating slightly before reciprocating, eventually responded in kind.

After we were done, the others gave little grunts of approval. While my green-eyed man and I lay peacefully together, our roommates turned to each other and made love exactly as we had. One did so with some reluctance until his excited partner forced him to complete the act.

When all were finished, I suggested it was time for an explanation.

Ghirish volunteered: "To tell you the truth, we aren't really gay. The five of us grew up together and know each other very well. A young widow in our village took care of our sexual needs until we came to Bombay. But the only women available to us here in the city are prostitutes of the cheapest kind. We see them at the hospital, sick with terrible diseases. That's not for us. We have been in a desperate situation. Just before I met you, we decided to explore homosexual relations in secret. We tried amongst ourselves a few times, but...."

"It was like milking a cow!" chimed in the reluctant one with an embarrassed giggle. "We never thought of what you showed us tonight! It never crossed our minds that a man's mouth could feel so good."

Ghirish embraced me gently. "When I saw the way you looked at me at the beach," he continued, "I knew you were the man to give us an education. I realized then that a man of age and experience was the solution for us. "

The other interrupted again: "We sent Ghirish out to scout because he's the handsome one. When he came back with you, we thought the problem was solved, but you were so slow to catch on we thought he'd made a mistake!"

"Not a chance!" laughed Ghirish, kissing me on the ear. "I knew one night this would happen. Your eyes have never lied to me. But we didn't want to overwhelm you and give you the wrong idea of Indian men. I could see you were shy and needed time."

Soon afterward, I found a small apartment with Western beds instead of mats on the floor. I invited Ghirish and his roommates to visit me often. Gradually, I lost my puritanical reserve. They likewise shed all sexual inhibitions with me.

What I taught them may have been of little use in their future pursuits, but what I learned from them about the honest interchange of meaningful friendship proved to be a mainstay of my life.

We had no rules, save one: While I remained in Bombay, Ghirish had to retire from his role as scout.

That was a point permanently won. By the time I left a few months later, my young men had completed my master class of lessons. They were ready to become masters among themselves.