And while he’d meant nothing by it, it still stung. I didn’t know what it felt like to walk on the street and feel like I belonged as much as the people passing by me. Not since I was a seven-year-old kid living in India, and I could hardly remember that girl now. Maybe Neel and Dipti had worked together because they understood the other’s loneliness. Alex could never understand that part of me, and I had just assumed it was because we had different ethnic backgrounds, but I now realized it was more than that. Tushar couldn’t have understood it either, and he was as Indian as they came. But he was an Indian who had always belonged in India. No one questioned his place in this country like they did mine.
30
Shortly after sunset, Biren and I walked along the stalls making up the perimeter of the Law Garden on our way to meet his crush. I hadn’t been to the area since my last trip to India but knew that the colorful lights and merriment were something I wanted to try to capture on film, especially now that Tushar had taught me some better settings to use for night photography.
“My friend from work will meet us near that corner,” Biren said.
Law Garden was a small and crowded public park where people often came to shop or eat at the hawker stalls that lined its perimeter. It was nothing like the grandeur of Grant Park back in Chicago, but large by Indian standards. The smell of frying oil filled the air rather than the scent of nature. My family had spent many hot summer evenings here when we had been visiting from America. Tonight it looked no different than it had fifteen or twenty years ago. There were families walking around talking and laughing while licking shaved-ice popsicles. NRI kids were still sporting Christmas sweatshirts even though the holiday had just passed.
“So, you’re still calling him your friend?” I said.
“Isn’t that what you’re calling Tushar?” he shot back.
“Touché,” I said.
He laughed. “Anyway, that’s what he is. We’ve never crossed that boundary. Besides, he’s more into this scene than I am. I’m not sure if he’s single or even interested in me as anything other than a friend.”
“Well, you won’t know unless you try! I’ll see what I can find out.”
“You Americans can’t ever stop prying, can you?” His tone was playful, so I knew he wasn’t bothered.
“I just want you to be happy, and there must be something about this guy if you were willing to share this part of yourself with him,” I said.
Biren’s lips curled into a lopsided grin. His dark eyes shone with that glimmer of possibility that people felt at the beginning of a new relationship. It was the same look I’d seen on Alex’s face in those early months, and the same look I was sure I had reciprocated. It was the look I’d probably have if Tushar and I grew closer than we were. It was a look that meant the same thing in every country and every culture.
He stopped and faced me. “Don’t go getting any ideas. This isn’t America. People like me don’t ride off into the sunset. Samarth is someone I feel connected to and whom I can be myself with. That’s all.”
How could he minimize it so easily? It was no small feat to find that connection with anyone, and even more difficult to find it with someone you were attracted to.
Ahead of us, a man in slacks and a gray sweater waved in our direction. He was several inches shorter than Biren, but then again, most people in India were. His hair was combed away from his face, revealing premature white hairs along his temples that gave him a more distinguished look. His hazel eyes stood out because they were in stark contrast to the sea of dark-brown-eyed people around us.
“He’s not bad on the eyes either,” I whispered before we were within earshot of Samarth.
Samarth was a doctor who frequented Biren’s pharmacy. They were both very coy about how their friendship had developed from there. Biren had warned me that Samarth was into the underground gay scene near Law Garden, so we might end up there.
Biren made the introductions, the two of them shifting nervously in each other’s company, but in that bashful way that suggested Biren was wrong and the feelings were mutual.
“I’ve actually got some friends getting together behind the garden. Maybe we can go meet them?” Samarth suggested.
He led us through the park, past a dark corner where I’d noticed most of the people around us were men in their twenties and thirties, to a dimly lit street behind. I wondered if the families roaming around Law Garden knew parts of the garden and the roads behind it doubled as a gay meeting point. That thought had certainly never crossed my mind before tonight.