A Diwali coming out story: Why I don't fear fire crackers any more

by Ravi K.

The day I came out to my wife, I actually did not have any intention to. It was as unexpected to me as it was to her. I looked at her after I uttered in a trembling, choking voice the short and simple sentence that let out the biggest secret of my life - I am gay . For a fleeting second, I saw relief passing across her face. Then, I cried inconsolably.

As I cried, something unwound inside me – something that I had closed air-tight was opening on its own. There was a gush of fresh air. I cried not because of the guilt and fear of humiliation, but because of the freedom, the unprecedented joy, that I experienced, when I uttered those three words. I cried the whole night.

Now I realise something else was also happening inside me. It was not just about letting go of the burden of a secret. Other possibilities of life were opening up, prompting me to shed the many hollow fears and doubts that had accumulated during the many years of closetedness.

Looking back, I wonder was there anything that I did not have a fear of. I feared almost everything – football, swimming, strangers, men, friends, crackers, cricket bat and ball, my voice, neighbours, beautiful places, driving licences – everything. I distanced myself from all things that I feared. That was also an easy way to protect myself for it allowed me to create a time and space for my dreams and fantasies. But the price I paid for it was huge. Wherever I went, whatever I did, I felt unsettled, displaced, dispossessed. I stopped enjoying the music, the taste of food, the lights, the days, the nights. I just had to somehow live through it and be done with it. I had to be careful not to reveal my real identity, I held myself back from doing things in the spur of the moment. Before I acted, I thought twice, thrice, five times, 10-15 times. Mostly I just thought.

After my life opened up in front of me, I did many things that I (and many others) thought I would never do in life. My father was the happiest when I told him that I was learning to drive. After many years of nudging me to get a driving licence, he had given up. Whenever I was home, he would, with no hesitation, drive me wherever I wanted to go. Now, when I sit behind the wheel, I know there is nothing more enjoyable than driving. In the swimming pool, when I float, face immersed, horizontal, forgetting the world outside, I know a joy I had missed out on.

Why am I writing this now? Because it is Diwali and I used to hate it. I said sound and air pollution went up during these days; accused the Hindus of indulging in wastage of energy; reasoned that they were overdoing it as a show of strength in front of other minority communities; worried that crackers and other fireworks were bitter fruits of child labour in Sivakasi; last of all it celebrated the return of Rama, who enslaved the Dravidians, abandoned pregnant Sita and also in whose name many deadly riots ravaged India. I refused to take part in the festival.

But the real unspoken reason was the fear of crackers. Whenever a cracker went off, I jumped (out of my seat, if I was seated, or simply jumped, if I was running or walking or just standing). My wife, who is not very bothered about the sudden high-decibel noise, would enjoy the fun, would make fun of me. If I went out during the Diwali days, I would shudder every time a cracker burst. I scanned the street to see whether somebody was throwing a bomb. Every time I did this, I revisited my childhood, when somebody had actually burst a cracker near me that scared the shit out of me.

I remembered how people shouted “cracker” whenever I went to the market to buy things; how they assumed it was unmanly or was girlish and made fun of me. For many years, the sound of the cracker that went off near me in my childhood reverberated in all sudden bursts. The fear of crackers that I had essentially became my fear of life and everything spontaneous about it.

Of late, after I revealed the secret about my sexuality to my wife and made her my closest friend for life, I notice that I do not get shocked or run for cover when crackers burst. Somehow I have realised that there is fun in it.

So, this Diwali, when I go out for the first time to burst a packet of fireworks disregarding the political incorrectness, I declare that I am not afraid of crackers anymore. I want to see the lights, indulge in the festivities. I hope this will be the first of many more bright and peaceful Diwalis that come not only to me but for all communities.

Happy Diwali!

Ravi K is a pseudonym. He is a part of the Firstpost staff and had written about his life and times of the closet earlier. You can read it here .