To be or not to be, that is the question

AsIstumble forward inside the house, I can already feel his disapprovalstaring back at me. The project
work had taken longer than expected and he wasrestlessly 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 hourslate.” Before I can
protest though, Dadu raises his hand, the stoicism of a college professor evident, “Fine, fine. Thisisjust
your generation, doing school projects outside ofschool.” 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 istrying 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 thisissuch a
big deal for you. Love islove.” The number of times we’ve had this conversation is not proportional to its
intensity. I guessthat istrue for all our discussions, be it politics or economics. Having a professor for a
grandfather often leadsto heated debates.
Right now, he still looks at me intently. Then, he softens hisface again, “My dear, it isso easy to say ‘love is
love’”. What about the others? Law? Religion? It is not only me, Noor, it isthe world.” Ispecifically dislike it
when he makes argumentsthat 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. Hisshouldersfall back down now,
indicating he won’t respond again. Instead, he beginsto 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 saysit, 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 alwaysstruggled 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 asif no one can see through it. She’s hurting.” Ishould stop and go inside with him,
but he needsto 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. Justso you know.” He knits
his eyebrowstogether,seemingly lost, asif deep in his own thoughts.
For a moment it feelslike he will notspeak again, but then he looks up at me and continues, “Let usforget
marriages and families.” He nudges his head slightly, a prompt for me to start thinking, “Let us become
practical. There are so many other issuesthat come up with thislegalization—property, adoption,
insurance. Tell me, whatshould 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 willsurely require
changesin all of these regulations at a national level, demanding many, many years and resources, I agree
Dadu,” I return hissmile, “But, it muststartsomewhere, no? Somewhere,sometime,someone hasto 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 isit
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 thingsin, he turnsthe screen
towards me and starts, “Look,” he pointstowardsthe 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 switchesto another article. This one is about the
benefits of getting married early: for women, early marriage issafer in terms of pregnancy. Doctorssay 25 is
the ideal age for pregnancy and conceiving later possessesso 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 seriousnessto my voice, “There are many thingsthat 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 wasround, 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 thatsexuality 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 towardsthe statue
of Ganpati Ji that proudly standsin 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 finishesthat 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 ofsexuality in historical literature, back when we thought we could explain
it to her parents. I clasp my handstogether and begin asif I wasspeaking to a large audience, “Even in the
oldest documentation of religion, the portrayal ofsame-sex relationshipsis present, Dadu. The Kama Sutra
affirms and acceptsthe presence of homosexuality, ancientstatues depictsame-sex relationships, and
many Hindu deitiesidentify 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?” Ismile, recounting wordsI once said to Arushi, “It wasthe
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 towardsfaith. 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 thislike we have many times before, maybe we will never be able to overcome our differenceslike we
haven’t in many of our debates. But today, we share a laugh before we head inside for dinner.