having a gay husband in india

Pushkar Lake Sunrise

I met Farrel years ago as I went for my job interview at Naked Communications. I remember thinking how kind he was as he wished me luck and I smiled to myself as I realised how camp he was. Admittedly I may have admired his beauty and I cringe to myself at the idea of checking out Farrel now as gorgeous as that man is. On my first day, he led me to the kitchen and gave me my first ever Argentinean mate. Next thing I knew I was in a workshop for a biscuit company and buzzing confidently with the biggest caffeine high ever and spilling with ideas. Farrel became one of my closest friends in Sydney and I was fortunate enough to stay with him post-breakup. One day, when I explained that my four-year visa in Sydney was up and that I was thinking of what to do about it, he got down on one knee and proposed to me.

“Marry me Jessica”, he said romantically, “I have always wanted a British passport”. He clumsily knelt on the bed that we had been snuggled up in watching something profound from Eckhart Tolle.

“Dude, I love you, but you are totally gay. The visa people will interview us and know immediately that it's fake!” I laughed.

“What? People tell me I don’t sound gay” he said.  I wondered to myself 'which one of us is naive here?'. Farrel and I never formally married but when he decided to pass through India en route to his move to Israel, he gladly took on the role of gay husband. My very, very, gay husband, especially when he cackled and of course, what did we do together the most? Laugh. We even found ourselves doing laughing yoga.

Raz-ma-taz

Having a husband in India seemed rather practical. At my age, most women outside of the major cities are already popping out sprogs and hence, there’s a sense that there’s something wrong with a woman in her late twenties if she’s not been married off. Thankfully Farrel, my gorgeous gay husband loved to hold my hand and tell everyone about our family together. Sometimes I would feel incredibly on the spot as I’d realise he’d been spinning so many tales that I was unable to even know the names of my apparent three-year-old son and newborn child. He really took the role of stand in husband seriously. The attention I was getting was quite bizarre. The glares and stares from the locals. People were asking for my photo and the local men’s attention was exhausting. I later discovered that I had a strong resemblance of a Pakistani Bollywood actress much to my husband’s frustration as Farrel soon felt like he was going out with a celebrity.

Krishna, a lovely gentleman who made real chai in the small village of Bundi took a special shine to me that may have got a little tainted on one visit when my “husband” shouted at me for not ordering him his second round of chai.

“Right, that’s it, divorce!” he shouted playfully, little did I know that we had an audience as I went to kick him only to hear the shouts of Krishna in absolute horror as he witnessed a wonderful wife going for her husband with her feet. A blatant display of disrespect, especially given the use of my feet and how Farrel loved the display he’d created.

“Respect me wife” he said with a coy grin.

“You bastard” I whispered back to him as I played the humiliated and abiding wife and ordered him his goddamn chai.

Pushkar Lake blessing

One morning Farrel and I forced ourselves to peal out of bed and trek up the hill before sunrise where a beautiful temple stood overlooking the Holy lake and town of Pushkar. The story of Pushkar’s lake made me laugh in a sad way.  It's the most sacred lake of the Hindus. The Hindu scriptures describe as it as "Tirtha-Raj" – the king of pilgrimage sites related to a water-body and it is associated with the mythology of the creator-god Brahma. However, in recent years due to pollution, this Holy Lake had got so lined by plastic waste that the powers that be brought in the diggers and removing the waste along with the ancient Holy lakes basin. The lake drained itself of its sacred waters and left no alternative, I guess, but to line the basin with concrete and get the hoses out. It was beautiful nevertheless but the story spoke to me in volumes of the ignorance that seems to disease our world and consequently our lands, even the most revered evidently.

dog karma

Watching the sunrise over the town was beautiful and as Farrel and I enjoyed a masala chai. We admired glow of light through our squinted tired eyes. Suddenly Farrel freaked out and I saw him kick the dog next to him.

“No you f*ckin' mongrel!” he yelled at the cheeky dog that had popped his eager nose in to Farrel’s mug in his frustrated gay voice. 

“Farrel, don’t kick him!” I said in the dog’s defence. “You’ll get bad dog karma” I joked.

And what a joke it was as within moments the recently beaten dog was hitching his hind leg up over Farrel’s jacket and marking his territory by urinating all over it. 

I could not stop laughing at the scene.

“And that’s instant karma” he said.