The Long Trip to Goodbye - 3. Chapter 3

Due to Father’s frequent transfers Radha and I grew up in many different towns all over India. Naturally it was difficult for us to form lasting friendships with our school mates. She was three years older to me. Elder sisters are addressed in Hindi as ‘didi’. It is the same in Bengali and most other North Indian languages. In Tamil and Telugu the term is ‘akka’ and in Malaylam, my mother tongue, it is ‘cheychi’. Despite being reprimanded, sometimes severely, by grandparents and other relatives I simply stuck to calling her Radha. It came naturally perhaps because that’s how my parents addressed her; or maybe it was because she was my closest friend.

Our family was a single income one. Father had a decent job at the National Bank and mother was a house wife. Very few women worked in those days, if they did they were mostly teachers and nurses. It was an India where people did not dare to dream big. Our ways were modest and for most poverty was a very close neighbor. For instance clothing us was an issue. Compared to other kids who had siblings of same gender, because I could not wear Radha’s hand me downs, I had fewer pairs of shorts. As for home, most of my childhood was spent in one bedroom quarters given to my father by the bank at a subsidized rent. Consequently once my sister hit puberty father and I slept on the drawing room floor. Before that all four of us shared the same bed. Today we might look back and call our upbringing as being one of unmet needs but we never felt it at the time. Maybe because our situation was no different from those around us.

Another norm growing up was parents putting us under constant pressure. Mine talked mostly about having to save for Radha’s wedding, specifically her dowry. Their plight was exacerbated by the fact that I was younger and would possibly be unable to contribute. These concerns were very much a dinner table conversation. Ma and Father used them as a motivating tool to make us study harder and do better in school. The impression we received was that if the two of us did not become a doctor or engineer we were all doomed, the whole lot of us. Radha won’t get a good husband, Mom and Dad would retire in penury and I would become a good for nothing loafer or a meager clerk. Growing up, therefore, Radha and I felt we were together in a battle where our parents were our aides when we complied and adversaries when we did not. In hindsight they seem more like ass-hole trainers in a military camp much like the one in the movie An Officer and a Gentleman.

Today we recalled incidents from our childhood in amusing tones. They had not seemed as funny at the time they happened though. Like when Mother won’t give me more than ten rupees for my best friend Darshan’s birthday gift. I wanted to get him a Bryan Adams cassette which cost way more. In protest I had made an excuse of having bad stomach and missed his party. I had accused Ma in very dramatic words of not having respect for my friendship. It was indeed funny how some things had not changed even today. Father was complaining earlier about me wasting three whole days of my vacation just to attend Darshan’s wedding. Radha and I had a good laugh over it.

“You know how they are, they’ll never understand.” Radha tried to justify, “Mother missed Pushpa aunty’ s wedding because we had exams! That’s their mind set, family over everyone else.”

I snorted. “Only when it suits them. Anyway, how are things at the new job?” I asked. She had joined a new Specialty Nursing Home recently.

I was sprawled on Radha’s bed watching her press and fold clothes. Sid was next to me enjoying videos on an ipad. Dinesh was out meeting some friends of his. Ma and Father were finally taking a nap; they hadn’t slept a wink the previous night in the excitement of my visit.

“It’s good. Lots of stress as always. Indians can’t stop making babies. But this Hospital has better management, at least that’s the impression I get so far. Enough staff and operation theaters, not a lot of last minute calls.”

“Good. Those were crazy stories you told me about the previous place. The one about a woman accidentally giving birth at the registration counter was scary.”

“Yea! That was gross mismanagement.” Her eyes went dark. Despite having seen a lot of adversities as a Gynecologist specializing in Obstetrics, Radha was still compassionate enough to be upset by them.

“How’s life in San Francisco? Have you started seeing anyone?” Her eyes shot to the door to make sure no one was nearby.

“No. Lots of Gays but not many who want to get serious. Frankly right now I don’t want anything serious myself.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I guess I need a break?”

Radha did not say anything.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing. Are you excited about meeting Darshan? It’s been a few years right?”

“Yes, last time we met was six years ago when I was in Bangalore. Don’t change the topic. What do you have to say?”

“What can I say?” She sighed. “What’s his name, the last guy who worked at Microsoft? Are you in touch with him?”

“Steve. We text once in a while. What about him?”

“Yea, Steve. He sounded like a nice guy.”

“That he is. But you know how I feel about long distance. It never works, especially in the Gay world.”

“Please, don’t give me that crap. If you wanted you could have made it work.”

“It’s tough, trust me. And I won’t compromise my career for a guy!”

“So? How long is the flight from Seattle to San Francisco? Wasn’t he ready to move with you?”

“Yes, which is what scared me. He would have uprooted his life and given up a job he’s good at for me! We had only been dating for six months.”

“Yet you’d met his parents and were talking about moving in together.”

“It was way too early to meet his parents. I shouldn’t have agreed to it in the first place.”

Radha shook her head dejectedly.

“What? You think I’m making excuses?” I challenged her.

“Yes.”

“Fine! Believe what you want.”

“I just want you to find someone. If things were better for you in India and you could’ve stayed closer…” She didn’t finish.

I understood her concern for me. In a low but deliberate voice I said, “It’s not just about the law you know. If Mother and Father were okay about it I would have stayed here. It’s doable in the cities. You can have a life. Many people I know are making it work.”

“It isn’t their fault. They love you. I think to them it’s just too scary.”

“They’re more afraid of what others would say. They felt the same way when you wanted to marry Dinesh. ‘What would people say? What would your uncle say? We would be shunned from our community.’ Remember all the drama?”

“Yes! But that’s still different. There are other examples in society and in movies of love marriages.”

“Yes there are no examples of anyone having a Gay son! It’s because our society is full of hypocrites. Someone has to break the façade.”

“True, but our parents have never been brave about anything.” Radha’s eyes held great compassion as she said this. She knew exactly how much this reality of our society, our parent, was hurtful to me. I was beginning to feel extremely drowsy, which only made me more testy.

“Tell me this, if Ma and Father were Ok, would you mind if I came out to our relatives?”

“But why do you want to?” She seemed baffled.

“You’re not answering my question. Your life will become difficult once Dinesh’s parents come to know. Won’t it?”

“You know I’ll always support you. Isn’t that enough?” She was right.

She came and kissed my cheek to calm me and ruffled my hair. I let out a huge yawn. It was loud enough for little Sid to sit up and stare at me.

“Why don’t you go to sleep now? You can’t stay up any more.”

“It’s just seven. I’ll wake up at midnight if I went to bed now.”

“That’s fine. I’ll leave some food out for you to eat. Go to bed.” I followed her advice and went to my designated room.

Before I hit the bed though my phone beeped with an i-message.

Jake Gellar: What’s up handsome?

Shekhar Karun: Jet lag. Head is about to hit the pillow.

Jake Gellar: Good. Just checking if you’d reached safely. Sweet dreams.

Shekhar Karun: Thanks. You have a good day too.

Jake Gellar: TTYL :*

I was knocked out before reading Jake’s last text.

Jake Gellar: Miss you. Sorta… J