Tag Archives: Dad

The Right To Choose

1 Nov

Dear Father,
Yesterday, as I sat before your siblings, constantly being insulted over and over… on the charge of having my own priorities, or for daring to speak and not just listen as I was categorically insulted in bullet points… as I sat there, in the face of your brother’s blatant, disgusting, foul hypocrisy… for not conforming to some standard template as expected of me (but surprisingly not his own children)… As you sat there witnessing all of it, and not uttering a word, who knows, maybe enjoying every minute of it, you made a choice, then and there. A choice to limit our relationship to one of cordiality.

I’m no poorer with one less aunt and uncle, but I certainly find it ironic that I’m poorer by a what could have been a strong bond with my father, of who I thought I was a carbon copy. But is now reduced by your actions, your priorities and your choices, to a mere formality.
But am I an image of you, I wonder? Would I fail to value the dignity of my wife and own children, before the ego of my siblings and their offspring? Would I turn a blind eye to the pleas of my own creation? Would I value tradition over emotion?

For all that you’ve been to me, over the years Father, none matter as much as this betrayal…

A happy gay family!

16 May

So when I woke up this morning post dreams of performing “experimental tasks” on insects for some project of which an aunt was the “Chief Security Officer” and another uncle was the Head, I thought I’d had the strangest night’s sleep.

That’s before I sat down with my mom, who was telling my aunt of her dream last night…

She starts it with the prologue, in which she tells us about this man who used to work at a bank where we had some accounts. He had long hair which he used to tie in a ponytail (that I clearly remember) and do his eyebrows with a pencil (that I do not recall). As my mom nicely summarised it, everyone knew he was “a gay” (Gahh!!) and I thought of protesting at the stereotype, but I liked where the story was going and did not want to interrupt.

So then she continues about how she dreams of my father (Yes! My father!!) growing his hair really long, similar to that of the gentleman who worked at the bank. And when my mom asked him (in the dream) of why he was doing so, he remarks “Every one knows you’re a “bin”. [At this point, I have to interrupt her and ask her what she means by a “bin” where she casually fills in saying “lesbian”. People, is this true and valid? How come I never knew about it?]
She summarises the dream with my father telling her that the man from the bank is coming upstairs to live with him.

As a closing comment, she swears she’d be best of not telling dad about this dream, because he’s sure to grow his hair long just to annoy her (Oh, and I so love him for being as jovial as that, even though it gets annoying at times).


Darn It, He knows…

18 Jul

So I’ve been writing about it for quite some time now, how my pop’s surely aware of my sexuality, and being all supportive about it. Whether it would be in terms of calling Baba Ramdev a total idiot (and me Dad’s a huge yoga fanatic) to several other comments he’s passed against the homophobic lot, dad’s wearing rainbow colours for his son.

I was trying to be in denial about it all, but I think it’s starting to sink in.

Earlier at dinner today, he and mom were having another tiff. I eventually concluded, “You two are just a disaster together…”

To that he responded in a somewhat soft voice, “When you’re with your spouse, 20 years from now, you’ll know.”

“What did you say?” I asked, thinking I hadn’t heard him properly.

Turned out that I had. “You and your spouse.” SPOUSE!
Who uses the word Spouse anymore! Why not “wife”! Ohh no, it’s Spouse! And he said it both
times! I had to bow my head down to suppress my embarrassed smile.