Sunny’s Story - Part 4
Part 4 - My next chapter
I truly came into my own in London. I had a genuine sense of self. I started drinking, going out and making friends. I was making up for all the socialising I’d missed out on at university. Relationships were hit and miss, but that’s another story. I had a great time and to some extent I was promiscuous. This wasn’t intentional, just the result of years of pent-up frustration. I’ve learned to control that now and channel my energies into work, exercise and hobbies. Still, sex is a big part of my identity, just not the only part. I’m reluctant to live up to any stereotypes.
Years after enjoying my independence, living in London became increasingly expensive. My parents suggested I come home. I know this wasn’t an official ‘acceptance’ of my homosexuality - but it was their gesture of trying to move in the right direction. Deep down I know the desire for me to marry a woman and have children still existed, but they didn’t mention it. I tried to bring up ‘friends’ or illusions to the idea that I may want to discuss my love life, but they didn’t have the tools or willingness to discuss it. For my dad, it was enough that I was home. They’d rather have me there, than not have me at all. I think back to the wild dreams I had as a child that one day I’d leave home and never see them again, and how crazy that must have been for me as a child to imagine.
Over time, the news became known amongst my UK family. Again, it was never really discussed, but I was glad that I didn’t have to hide anything anymore.
Once my mum said, just don’t tell anyone in India, they wouldn’t understand. I appreciate this may have been the case back in the naughties - but was it the case now? How much has life changed in India? I didn't know - in any case, I avoided going to my parent’s respective villages for a long time.
At the end of 2022, I went on a solo trip to India and found that outside of Punjab, it was in fact easy for me to meet guys in India, things had changed considerably since I’d visited as a child. In some of the bigger cities like Mumbai and Bangalore, there was even an appetite for building strong non-closeted relationships.
In February of 2023, my father passed away. I traveled with my mum and my sister to Punjab for the funeral. I distinctly remember several relatives suggesting that now it was time for me to get married like it was the only sensible thing to do. They can’t have known that these wishes don’t reflect the reality of our lives back home. The relatives in India only see a fragment of our real lives, just as we only understand a fragment of theirs. We need to abandon the idea that marriages fix problems and give people the freedoms they need to just be themselves.
I returned to the UK just two weeks ago. My mother is still in India and I’m adjusting to our new reality: I’m the ‘man of the house’ now. When my mother returns it’ll just be her and I (my sister is married). What does this mean for me? Will my relationship with my mother take on a newer closeness? Will I be able to tell her about my hopes, dreams and wishes? We can only see.
It’s not until I put this into writing that I can appreciate the enormity of what I’ve been through. The only thing I regret is not having done it sooner. But - that was a different time. Every millennial vs gen-z debate will attest to how easier things are becoming.
Waiting, on the other hand, just means kicking a can down the road. I have gay friends who don’t feel the need to tell anyone anything, but that’s their agreement with themselves, I just know that I can’t live a life under a cloud.
My parents nicknamed me Sunny, and that’s formative to my temperament, I have to try and be...sunny.
