Script a dialogue between two people, with contrasting viewpoints, on an issue that divides generations. [1500 words]
As I stumble forward inside the house, I can already feel his disapproval staring back at me. The project work had taken longer than expected and he was restlessly pacing around the front lawn, just asI expected. “Noorie,” his gaze falls on his watch, worry glinting in his eyes, “It’s 6 pm. You are 3 hours late.” Before I can protest though, Dadu raises his hand, the stoicism of a college professor evident, “Fine, fine. This is just your generation, doing school projects outside of school.” And there it was again, his discontent with our ‘generation.’ Disregarding it with an eye roll, I did what we usually did, tell each other about our days.
“I was with Arushi, and did you know—” I pause because his pupils dilate and my realisation is all too late. Anger flares up in me, and I tell him, “No. Not again.” But he is unmoved. “Noora,” he begins, in that voice, he adopts when he is trying to teach me something, “she likes girls. That is not—It is not normal.” I am ready to reply even before he finishes, disgust fresh in my voice, “We are not getting into this again Dadu, I’ve had enough of it. She doesn’t have horns growing out of her head. I don’t understand why this is such a big deal for you. Love is love.” The number of times we’ve had this conversation is not proportional to its intensity. I guess that is true for all our discussions, be it politics or economics. Having a professor for a grandfather often leads to heated debates.
Right now, he still looks at me intently. Then, he softens his face again, “My dear, it is so easy to say ‘love is love’”. What about the others? Law? Religion? It is not only me, Noor, it is the world.” I specifically dislike it when he makes arguments that make sense, which is all the time! “The world is deranged. That’s my answer,” I throw at him. It is not my best work, but I am angry. His shoulders fall back down now, indicating he won’t respond again. Instead, he begins to guide me inside by my hand, a show of an olive branch. He whispers, “It is fine. All of this does not matter until you get married.” I know he does not mean it in the way he says it, but I brush his hand off. How could he not understand this? “Dadu,” I muster up all
the fight inside of me, “Arushi is my closest friend, and she’s always struggled with labelling her identity. Especially, because no one can seem to accept her, or her community. Ma and Papa try to keep up their fake ‘woke’ act around her as if no one can see through it. She’s hurting.” I should stop and go inside with him, but he needs to know. “And Dadu, she can’t get married. I mean she can, under the Hindu Marriage Act, but that union is never legally recognized by the state, so it cannot get registered. Just so you know.” He knits his eyebrows together, seemingly lost, as if deep in his own thoughts.
For a moment it feels like he will not speak again, but then he looks up at me and continues, “Let us forget marriages and families.” He nudges his head slightly, a prompt for me to start thinking, “Let us become practical. There are so many other issues that come up with this legalization—property, adoption, insurance. Tell me, what should the government do about its entire structure in place? Throw it away just because you two are unhappy?” He laughs at the end, but he didn’t realize that two opinionated 16-year-olds were enough to bring change. I once again begin my battle, “A legalization will surely require changes in all of these regulations at a national level, demanding many, many years and resources, I agree Dadu,” I return his smile, “But, it must start somewhere, no? Somewhere, sometime, someone has to make a change.” His eyes flicker up to the saffron sky, and the setting sun, “You’re just like your Dadi,” he chuckles. I know it’s meant to make me nostalgic, but I’m opportunistic. “I know Dadi was16 years old when she got married to you. I also know that not all marriages done young are consensual. So why is it that these unsafe or non-consensual marriages are accepted, but people are not okay with consensual same-sex relationships? This hypocrisy exists everywhere, and both you and I know that.” I fold my hands then, proud of the point I’ve made.
Suddenly, he takes his phone out of the pocket of his kurta. After typing a few things in, he turns the screen towards me and starts, “Look,” he points towards the numbers on the screen. I read them carefully: statistics on HIV/AIDS and how it has killed 510 000–860 000 people globally in the past year. Before I can protest that HIV/AIDS is not a gay-people disease, he switches to another article. This one is about the benefits of getting married early: for women, early marriage is safer in terms of pregnancy. Doctors say 25 is the ideal age for pregnancy and conceiving later possesses so many risks. “Dadu,” I try and fail to not raise my eyebrows at him. “Noora,” he smiles, “Your Dadi and I could never have brought up your father if we got married late and spent our time arguing.”
I hesitate, and he takes advantage of this. “Did you know Noorie, in India, the legislative understanding of marriage refers only to marriage between a biological man and a biological woman. That’s how it has always been.” That makes me fully laugh because finally, I know what to say to him. “You know,” I begin, holding my laughter back to add some seriousness to my voice, “There are many things that humankind once considered to be true, Dadu, but now thinks differently about because of proof of existence. Like, people once used to believe that the Earth was flat, but once it was proved to be round, people changed their opinion. It would be a great tragedy to ignore the fact that the Earth was round, and to continue to accept and spread that it is flat. Just like that, sexuality earlier may have been seen as binary but is now proving to be a spectrum. And so, just like we understood that the Earth was actually round rather than flat, we have to understand that sexuality is not in a flat line with two rigid endpoints, but rather an infinite spectrum with various possibilities.”
He takes a deep breath, trying to understand what I’m saying. Then, he shakes his head towards the statue of Ganpati Ji that proudly stands in the middle of our front lawn. “I took a Theology class when I was a young undergraduate student. We learnt that Shiv, masculine energy, and Shakti, feminine energy, are both
needed to create the universe. They are important to the existence of the universe at a very cosmic and molecular level. What do you say to that?” The way he finishes that question makes me think that he is right and that there is nothing I can say to contest that. But then I think back to all those days Arushi and I spent researching the presence of sexuality in historical literature, back when we thought we could explain it to her parents. I clasp my hands together and begin as if I was speaking to a large audience, “Even in the oldest documentation of religion, the portrayal of same-sex relationships is present, Dadu. The Kama Sutra
affirms and accepts the presence of homosexuality, ancient statues depict same-sex relationships, and many Hindu deities identify as queer like Ardhanarisvara and Aravan,” I count the points off my fingers, “And we can’t possibly confuse identity with energy when that’s never been the case. Masculine energy can exist in a biologically female body, can it not?” I smile, recounting wordsI once said to Arushi, “It was the mighty Krishna who said that love was a selfless emotion felt by two souls, never mentioning gender. It was Guru Gobind Singh Ji who created a movement that disregarded age, gender, caste and sexuality, to establish a singular path towards faith. How can we now say that the very same gods who are telling you that homosexuality is a sin, are the same ones openly associated with it?”
He smiles a deep and happy smile and extends his hand for me to embrace. “I believe,” he whispers as he hugs me close, “it was Austen who called them ‘obstinate, headstrong girls’”. Maybe one day we will agree on this like we have many times before, maybe we will never be able to overcome our differences like we haven’t in many of our debates. But today, we share a laugh before we head inside for dinner.
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