The little child had those eyes which smirked in beauty. The lovely almond shaped eyes had queries, charisma and appeal. He was just like any other child growing up in the neighbourhood. Parents were happy but many a times quite dubious about his ways.
He had the same features as a human child; he had the same emotions which any child of his age could own. He cried when he had a bad day, he laughed his way when joys knocked his door.
He played, he outwitted many, his wits were quite jocular and his presence of mind amazing, his imaginative skills were phenomenal.
His house had some of the best pieces of coloured canvas’ which he had painted. Every piece was a master piece, a gem of its kind.
He loved tucking his head on his mother’s lap and listening to those fairy tales when he felt sad, he adored it, when his father hugged him and gave him his due share for all the achievements.
His teachers were contented with his progress and report card. Sports was another field where he had excelled every year. His home had shelves where they were bedecked with his trophies. Academics, paintings and sports earned him medals which gleamed with joy in those racks.
When guests would come home, his parents would make sure that those trophies and medals would catch their glance at least once and they would take all the delight in boasting their son’s brilliance.
But a shadow started wavering as days passed, a shade of obscurity which was smothering him every day once he reached puberty. He started to avoid that safety refuge where he would always find peace. Mother’s lap. Dad’s hugs. Those muzzled him with reality which he could not accept.
There was something which always bothered him, his mind frazzled all the time. Strained, nervous, worried. He had tried to speak out to his parents but all in vain or was muted by their own ethics.
Parents who had always consoled him while he had encountered failures were befuddled with his truth. Doctors, psychiatrist and counsellors had tried to console them.
And he wondered “What’s wrong with me?” Or was it them?
The tag of abnormality was first honoured to him by none other than his parents. And he started thinking, living and meditating on the same opinions as reflected by parents and society; stabbing, gnawing at his own identity. Every time he cloaked it, it sprung out.
Life had become a conflict, a battle.
So many times he had whispered near the mirror “Am I not of flesh and blood, am I not of love and pain, am I not of matter and element, am I not of kindness and talent, so how am I different?”
Isn’t being a gay, being a homosexual, being a lesbian or having a different sexual preference just as normal as being a girl or a boy.
With homosexuality being tagged as a punishable offence in India, does it not again strike another social issue just like infanticide, fetus killing and gender bigotry? With a population of 2.5 million gays in India, how does that justify?
Let a free soul blossom, irrespective of sexual preferences. Let parents be more humane and accept nature’s law. Let the most near and dear ones accept the very natural process of life. Society and government comes thereafter.
As Ernest J .Gaines quotes “Why is it that, as a culture, we are comfortable seeing two men holding guns than holding hands.” Let’s start celebrating life as it was gifted or as it happened.
Ronita-Maitra Bhandari is a free-lance creative writer who writes for various sites and blogs. She has also done a certified course in “Positive Parenting” from U.K. She is a mom to a 7-year-old and loves nurturing her greatest resource, her daughter. Apart from writing she is a nature lover and gets energised wandering around green patches. She believes family is a treasure chest and children are those precious jewels in the chest who sparkle to illuminate lives. What else would one desire to live a rich life?