Relative Values
It’s training day for the immigration officer at IGI. It’s taking twice as long. What’s your father’s name comes the obligatory question. Shri Ram, I say. He looks at me long and hard. I start to feel a little guilty, how could a Shri Ram have produced a queer son? I wonder if he can tell? But no, we’re virtual cousins, he’s from a similar caste background, all is well and I’m free to catch the flight to London.
These flights are long and boring. I amuse myself by trying to engage the attention of the very handsome young steward strapped in his seat facing me. But, he’s Indian and very shy. I suppose, I shouldn’t assume every male flight attendant is gay. I wonder if he has a secret life and will hit some of the more sleazy clubs that night in London.
Terminal 3 at Heathrow is remarkably empty. I’m out of there in record time. No sign of anyone to greet me. My ex-lover calls. He’s on his way, how did I manage to get out so quickly? I agree to meet him outside. It’s raining, naturally, and a it’s shock to go from 45 to 15 degrees. I’m hoping the Delhi heat will tide over my insides in this cold and grey city.
Finally, we’re home. One over-excited dog, one surviving parent, one recently divorced sister and one niece. I’m in the bosom of my family. The signs don’t look good; no family ensemble at the airport and no favourite food on the table. The next two weeks are going to be a long haul. Living within the family means no cruising long hours in London’s gay scene. But I had planned my escape. I have an internet date for the following night!
These flights are long and boring. I amuse myself by trying to engage the attention of the very handsome young steward strapped in his seat facing me. But, he’s Indian and very shy. I suppose, I shouldn’t assume every male flight attendant is gay. I wonder if he has a secret life and will hit some of the more sleazy clubs that night in London.
Terminal 3 at Heathrow is remarkably empty. I’m out of there in record time. No sign of anyone to greet me. My ex-lover calls. He’s on his way, how did I manage to get out so quickly? I agree to meet him outside. It’s raining, naturally, and a it’s shock to go from 45 to 15 degrees. I’m hoping the Delhi heat will tide over my insides in this cold and grey city.
Finally, we’re home. One over-excited dog, one surviving parent, one recently divorced sister and one niece. I’m in the bosom of my family. The signs don’t look good; no family ensemble at the airport and no favourite food on the table. The next two weeks are going to be a long haul. Living within the family means no cruising long hours in London’s gay scene. But I had planned my escape. I have an internet date for the following night!