My parents are not perfect-- I doubt anybody would say their parents were perfect. There is always something missing, there are grudges, things they could have done better. Hindsight is so useful. Because of several other things that I won't get into, and probably because of my being different, being gay, I have never been particularly close to my parents. However there are numerous aspects about them and particularly aspects about the way they brought us up, that I really like and admire, and that I'd unhesitatingly emulate if I ever fulfil my dream of adopting a child. One of these is the way they (particularly my father) encouraged us to think independently.
I remember, as a child of around 10, I had saved money and wanted to buy a popular book of quiz questions with it. I asked my father whether I could. He replied that since I was becoming a big boy, approaching teenage and adolescence, I should start thinking for myself. In matters like this I should stop asking for permission. I ought to take a decision, and consult them about the decision. Ask them for "suggestions, not advice". [In the matter in question my father's suggestion would be to go for an encyclopedia, and not a quiz book. I went ahead with the latter in any case, and after a year or so realized that I should have followed his suggestion.]
My parents have always trusted me and my decisions as I grew up, though they have had their suggestions which I was mostly free to accept or reject. And I respect them for this trust and freedom. I have always realized how fortunate I was in this matter, especially in the Indian context.
I remember, as a child of around 10, I had saved money and wanted to buy a popular book of quiz questions with it. I asked my father whether I could. He replied that since I was becoming a big boy, approaching teenage and adolescence, I should start thinking for myself. In matters like this I should stop asking for permission. I ought to take a decision, and consult them about the decision. Ask them for "suggestions, not advice". [In the matter in question my father's suggestion would be to go for an encyclopedia, and not a quiz book. I went ahead with the latter in any case, and after a year or so realized that I should have followed his suggestion.]
My parents have always trusted me and my decisions as I grew up, though they have had their suggestions which I was mostly free to accept or reject. And I respect them for this trust and freedom. I have always realized how fortunate I was in this matter, especially in the Indian context.
Once when I was in Germany (2000), my father jokingly mentioned marriage when I called up one weekend. I quite categorically said that I would never go for an arranged marriage, so they should stop worrying themselves or worrying me about it. [For my non-Indian readers, arranged marriage is a common system in India/South Asia where the parents and relatives would choose a bride for a groom, or vice versa. It does work in many/most cases and the whys and why nots are beyond the scope of this blog entry.] My father took that as a hint that I had someone in mind and was audibly thrilled and excited. I had to later write an email categorically denying that this was the case. But the thrill and excitement in his voice scared me. Not only was there no girl, there would never be any. There would never be cause to be thrilled or excited in this respect.
I made an SOS call to H. to discuss this. I didn't know what I should do, whether it'd be unfair to tell them the truth about myself or whether I'd keep lying to them. Whether I'd kill them (figuratively speaking of course) with the truth, or let them die without ever knowing their son. I didn't know. H. suggested not telling them. I discussed it with other (Indian) friends I had come out to. They were all of the opinion that there shouldn't be any harm if they didn't know. But then there were relatives and busybodies bothering them about their son who was of marriagable age, well educated and even abroad (the ultimate qualification). Wasn't that unfair and confusing for them to not know what they were fending off, what they were defending?
But even if I did decide to tell them, how would I? Here I was hyperventilating at the prospect of coming out to my closest friends (whom I had chosen, and who had chosen me--as friends) over telephone, and this was about coming out to parents whom I certainly hadn't chosen and who hadn't chosen me-- and this coming out had to be done in person, face to face. I couldn't think how I'd do that.
I decided it was time, when I finished my PhD. Before moving to Vienna, I was visiting India for a few weeks in Jan-Feb, 2003-- it had to be now. My father was embarassing me by insisting on introducing me to everybody as Dr. S. They were both very, very proud of me. Now was the right moment for them to know the real me and then decide exactly how proud they should be of their son.
I had been doing my homework. I had been reading up on coming out experiences, reactions, views. One thing was clear. I had been living with this fact for 24 hours a day for a decade before I had accepted it and was comfortable with it. It would be extremely unfair of me to tell them, and expect them to be happy about it immediately. I had had time, they were entitled to it too. I had made elaborate plans: I'd come out to them, stay with them for a couple of days, and then travel somewhere (as I always do when I visit India) and let them digest the information, come back home and stay with them for a few more days (provided their reaction wasn't negative enough to throw me out-- I doubted that would happen) probably take them to a counsellor/psychologist and then fly back to Europe. I had brought two books for them. First, Terry Sanderson's A Stranger in the Family, a support book addressed to the family when a member comes out to them. The other was The Science of Desire by Dean Hamer and Peter Copeland which is written for the layman and describes the research by Hamer's group towards identifying a locus on the human X-chromosome that tended to correlate with homosexuality. This book also explains the biology and research of sexual behaviour and is a very informative book in general.
Things rarely work out as planned. I couldn't get a chance to come out to them during the first part of my visit... a visit to India is always hectic because on has to visit and be visited by hordes of relatives. And this isn't a conversation one initiates when we come back at 11:30 pm after dinner at someone's place. I went to Bhubaneswar and Konark and returned to Kolkata. I hadn't gotten around to finding a counsellor/psychologist. And the day of my return to Germany was getting nearer.
Finally it was the Sunday, two days before I was to leave. We had finished lunch. My parents were in a good mood. I said I wanted to talk to them, together, in the living room. They came and sat down with a knowing smile. They expected to be told about a girl, I could see that on their faces. Sorry, I'd disappoint them, but for the last time on this issue, I'd never raise their hopes again like this... at least not about a girl, ever again! That was the whole point. It went bad. I stuttered, I struggled. I said I am gay, homosexual, I prefer guys and I would never get married. Here are two books that you could read, that might help you understand. Impassive faces. My mother asked whether my brother knew about this. I said yes. No further reaction from her. Her lack of reaction made me wonder whether she had understood what I said. After all, I said "gay" and "homosexual" using the these English terms. I didn't know of a term in Bengali that could be used in polite language, and that my mother would be likely to be familiar with. My father said he was very upset. If I had said this earlier when I was younger, there might have been something that could be done. I said no, there was nothing that could be done, there cannot be, I am the way I am. He said he'd not read the books, he'd not keep these books at home. I said I'd leave them there anyways if they ever wanted to read them. He said he wouldn't keep them at home. If I didn't take them, he'd throw them out after I left.
End of conversation.
The next day he told me in the morning that he was naturally upset at my disclosure and didn't want to be at home. If I needed him or the car, I should warn him in advance, else he'd stay out. And he indeed did so.
I didn't want to risk Dean Hamer's excellent book being thrown away, so I brought it back with me. I had no use for Terry Sanderson's book, so I left it in the drawer of my desk in their house, hoping that he'd be tempted to turn its pages before he "threw it out". And after I left, my absence, missing me, might make things a bit different. I don't know if either of them ever read it. If it is still at home or it was indeed "thrown out". I never asked.
The day I left, my parents accompanied me to the airport like always. Both were tearful as I went in after the final goodbye.
I try to call up every weekend. I returned to Germany and stayed there for a couple of weeks and moved to Vienna. This period was understandably chaotic, and my calls to home were irregular and rare. I resumed my regular weekend calls a few weeks after I moved to Vienna. For the first few months, my father rarely came to the phone when I called. Even if he picked up the phone, he'd say the bare necessary politenesses and then say "ok, now talk to your mother." Gradually that changed. He began talking more and more often. Became his chatty self. Last Sunday I spoke to them for close to an hour, mostly to him.
I have made sure that my mother did understand my disclosure. I have introduced her to Vijay and his boyfriend, Daniel, during her visit to Vienna, and my mother loved them. She does understand what I meant.
Last winter, I called home and my mother asked what I was doing. I said I was feeling lazy and so was listening to music, lying under a blanket. She sighed and said, it'd have been so nice if I'd not been alone under the blanket. Wow! She sure knew that it'd have to be a guy if there'd be someone. Similarly a couple of months ago, my father asked me whether I had any special news for them, whether I wanted to tell them about someone special. Wow, again!
Sorry, folks, I am disappointed that I have to disappoint you about this blank in my life. But you're lovely parents, although I will never get around to saying that to you.
