The Taste of Ginger(65)

“Biren, can you live like that?”

“I have to. Even though being gay isn’t technically against the law anymore, it’s still not accepted. And often the police have taken the matter into their own hands. You hear rumors that when they catch someone who’s gay, they beat him or . . . sometimes they do much worse.”

I saw fear flicker across his face. “Why not go back to Australia or move to America? Someplace that will be more accepting so you don’t have to live a lie?”

He sighed. “It’s not that easy. This is where I want to live. It’s home. Even though I could secretly date or whatever in Australia, it never felt like home. And I was still hiding from my parents and their social circle the few times I tried to date. That never felt right to me. Besides, the type of guy I’d want to end up with is someone like me—someone with my Hindu background and culture. Someone who wants a life here as much as I do.”

“How can you be so loyal to a culture that doesn’t accept that part of you?”

“I can’t stop being Hindu or Gujarati any more than I can stop being gay. It sounds crazy, but that’s the type of guy I want to end up with. I just have to accept that that type of guy will be just as secretive about his identity as I’ve been, so I may never find him.”

And I thought I had an uphill battle trying to find my place in the world! My heart went out to Biren. Because of the cultural phobia surrounding anything other than heterosexuality, his life in India was far more difficult than anything I had ever been through. Dealing with something like that in a country that was so closed minded had to be unimaginable. No wonder we’d developed a close friendship so quickly. He’d needed someone in India to accept him just as badly as I had.

“Have you met that type of guy here?” I asked.

His smile gave him away.

My eyebrows rose. “Oh, do tell!”

He looked shy, and it was very endearing.

He began to shift in an adorably shy way. “Obviously, we’re just friends. That’s all it can be, but he’s a fun bloke to be around.”

I leaned closer to Biren and lowered my voice. “Does he know you’re gay?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He chuckled. “Said he could sense it a kilometer away.”

“Clearly he’s more perceptive than me!” I joked. “So, he’s open about it?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking, but more than I am. He’s fairly active in the underground gay scene here and has had relationships before. His parents know, but they aren’t advertising it outside of the family.”

“How do you know your parents wouldn’t feel the same way?”

He cast me a disapproving look. “Because I do. My parents aren’t as progressive as his. Our family is in the public eye because of my father’s work. My parents aren’t equipped to handle a scandal like this.”

I could see he was getting agitated thinking about his parents, so I switched gears to learn more about this guy who had Biren so smitten that he was willing to admit his sexuality to someone.

“When do I get to meet him?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I’m not sure. You know I can’t be open about it.”

“Well, that’s why you can take me along. I’ll be the buffer, and it won’t be the two of you delving into some clandestine romance in a darkly lit alley. It will just be a group of friends going out.”

He thought about it, and I could see that he liked the idea of spending more time with this man, and any acceptable excuse would do. The next day was Saturday, and people our age would be out and about anyway, so he said he would set something up.

“I can’t wait,” I said, moving closer. He took a step back as I moved toward him. “I promise I won’t try to kiss you again—I’m just giving you a hug.”

He laughed and pulled me toward him. “It feels good to have said all of that out loud.”

“If there is ever anything I can do for you, I’m here. I hope you know that.”

“The only thing I need from you is to stay quiet.”





29


I woke up the next morning feeling heavy with the things Biren had told me. Knowing how much of his life he was sacrificing for his family made me feel like I had to try to repair the ruptures in mine as best I could. Things between Neel and me had been strained for days now, and that unsettled me more than anything that had come before. But he and I would work through things. We were family. We had to. That’s what I had convinced myself. But a family through marriage was not the same as blood and genetics and history. I felt like his relationship with Dipti was at a tenuous point and the longer they stayed apart, the less likely they were to come back together. I didn’t think he’d ever be himself again until Dipti forgave him, and I had to try to convince her to let him back in.

I rang the doorbell to her family’s house later that morning and waited for their servant to open it. Once I was shown to Dipti’s room, I saw her as I had left her before: lying in bed with a notebook on her lap. On the side table next to her was a thick stack of pages that had been ripped from the notebook, and I knew those were all letters to Uma.

“Did Neel send you?” she asked, not looking up from her letter.

“No,” I said, taking a seat in the chair next to her bed, where countless of her relatives must have been keeping vigil over her during this past week. “He would actually be really mad if he knew I was here, so I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell him.”