Love out of the norm

He was a Muslim and I a Hindu. As opposed to what many would assume, it was actually my people that killed him. Our love wasn’t acceptable, and wasn’t meant to be they said. They said it wasn’t love at all but sin to God. I wonder if it is so.

The first time I saw him was in high school. We shared the desk for the final exam and I helped him pass many subjects. I was shy and he was charming. It’s not as if I had not spoken to any guy before. Of course I had, what do you take me for? Yet, his smile made me feel right in all the wrong places. We spoke before and after the exams. To just sit beside him and not be allowed to talk was the cruellest thing! I actually wished he wouldn’t study well so that we’d interact more. Wasn’t that love? I helped him cheat, but in life he never cheated with my feelings. Wasn’t that love? Then why did they say it wasn’t? I wonder.

We did college together. Rumours were afloat about us and friends joked that we were such an item, but we laughed it off always. Deep down we both knew we liked each other. On the last day I confronted him.

“What’s your plan for the future?” I asked.

“Well, to get a job, earn well and marry a good girl that my family chooses for me.”

“Really?” I stared at him accusingly.

He nodded knowingly, “I don’t want to just marry some girl either. I don’t think I’ll be happy. I know what you’re thinking, Jo… I like you too.”

“You do?”

“Of course. I’m not clearer about anything else in my life. Ever since you helped me cheat on those exams, I knew you’re the anchor to my restless confused life.”

“I… I thought only I was going crazy.”

“Let’s be crazy together.” He smiled, and it felt like the normal thing to do. Then why did they say it wasn’t? I wonder.

We moved to Bangalore on the pretext of job and got us an apartment. Our families didn’t know we were in a live-in relationship. Both our families may belong to different religions but we knew they’d band together against us. So, we decided to get married without telling them. Our friends weren’t ready to support us for the fear of attack from our families, his mostly. The irony of it! When the first Pujari we went to refused to marry us we decided to have the ceremony at our home, our apartment. Since no one was invited I made him wear the bridal gown and I wore the suite. He looked ridiculous in that undersized gown. We played the video of Barney Stinson marrying Lily and Marshall. That day a Muslim and a Hindu said “I do” together in Christian style. It was a hilarious wedding, and I knew we were meant for each other. Then why did they say we weren’t? I wonder.

Limitations decreed that I couldn’t have children. We weren’t meant to have kids together. I once cried about it and told him that I’d carry him a baby if there was a way, even if it gave me twice the contraction pain a woman feels. He kissed me and said “Baby, we don’t need a kid just to be happy. All we need is each other. We can be each other’s kid.” I glared at him and said “Is that why you call me Baby?” He laughed, I laughed, and there was nothing abnormal about our laughter. If we could accept each other for what we are despite the imperfections what makes us so unacceptable to others? I wonder.

I wonder what’s more sinful- to contradict thousand year old scripture or to hurt a fellow human.

I don’t know clearly what happened on that fateful day, and my body shudders as I think about it. I returned home from work to find my life torn away in my absence. My people had barged in looking for me, and had attacked him instead. Since when is love a heresy? If all religions preach peace and love then why did they kill him? If everyone has the right to a private life why did they intrude our privacy? As long as the couple loves each other how is it the privilege of the society to approve it or not?

He used to say “They call us gay because we’re always happy. People of opposite gender have a really hard life trying to understand each other. We’re lucky we don’t have to deal with all that drama.” If that’s true, if we’re supposed to be the happy people why am I crying?