Recently I was in Tirupati, and while it was absolute hell climbing up the mountain, we thankfully took the bus back down. Everyone on it was asleep, and that gave me a lot of time to think about the future and other unpleasant things.
I want to get married. More specifically, I want to get married to a girl. You can see how this is already a problem considering I live in India, but wait, it doesn’t stop there.
I speak a language called Saurashtra. It’s very rare, not many people speak it. It’s so uncommon that while we did have a script, it isn’t in use at all in today’s time because there are just so few people to use it in the first place. At first I found it super romantic, because hey, what other interesting thing did I have going for me? And then I actually started thinking.
The chances of me finding someone, a female in particular, who speaks Saurashtra and can share the same interests that I have (or at least on a similar wavelength) are already very slim. To top it off, the chances of us falling in love and getting together without our families throwing a fit just dwindle down to zero. So it’s kind of hopeless for me.
The thing is, I really want to preserve my language. I could always find someone from any part of the globe to fall in love with, but I want to keep Saurashtra in my life, and even maybe raise a child who speaks the language. I want to lean that long-forgotten script with my lover and exchange cute love notes and bitch about people in public in Saurashtra and I want to share a language with someone that isn’t English. It’s something that most people will find very hard to relate to, I think, considering how languages like Hindi and Tamil aren’t exactly rare. But that doesn’t mean I don’t worry about it almost every day.
On the other hand, being bisexual means that the chances of me meeting a guy via my family and marrying him isn’t exactly out of the window. But I don’t think I could ever live with a male. It sounds like too much work, trying to understand each other on levels you could never hope to reach. Will he ever know what period pains and mood swings are like, for example? But that’s just my gay talking. Don’t mind it.
So, to put it in the most dramatic way as I possibly can, I will eventually have to choose between my sexuality and my language. And that is something I am dreading. Perhaps the worst part is that there is literally nobody I can relate to about this. No one I know has this problem and when I try to bring it up people just don’t get it. My mum, for example, was convinced that my bisexuality was a phase and that I was just doing it to be cool when I first came out to her. We haven’t spoken about it since.
This part of my future scares me, and I don’t know how to go about conquering this fear. The only thing I can do now is to pen down my thoughts and to never think about this again. I have too many things to worry about already, and I don’t need more on my plate.