Dear Grandpa,
I was born 30 years after your death when you were only 40 years of age. If you were alive today, you would have been 70 years old. I have nothing tangible to remember you by; no photos or any of your personal belongings. But every year during Sohra Saraddha I sit alongside my father who is your oldest son for 16 days and worship our ancestor and pray for your soul’s peace and wellbeing. My father fulfills his duty and offers tarpan calling out your name. One day, he says, I must continue this tradition and it will be my responsibility to continue the family tradition by teaching my sons to offer tarpan in your name and my father’s name.
All our kin come to visit. My aunts bring their stories about you. Each time a little different but all of them paint you in the same light. A young and handsome man, an average height for a Nepali man always in his comfortable set of Dhoti complemented by his shirt and a coat. They say you were an intelligent man and the most open-minded in the family who practiced astrology. You had light curly hair and they say our complexion was the same, a lighter shade of brown. You had a successful farmland in Syanja. My parents still live a few houses above where you built yours. Once a vibrant home, now nothing but meadows.
Grandpa, people in the village still remember you. Whenever I visit, the elderly from the village sit me down and caress my face and tell me how much I resemble you. They say you would have been happy to see. To see the face of the grandson who would continue your bloodline.
Grandpa, I am the youngest son of your eldest son. My parents had a total of 11 children and we are the five living ones. I am 25 years old. Still unmarried but madly in love.
I don’t know how to tell you this but Grandpa. The love of my life is a man. He is a kind and handsome man, Astral. My loving Grandpa, I am not sure what would be the state of your emotions as you read this. May be extremely furious or tearful eyes. But I believe you will read this letter until the end. It’s a story I lived.
Growing up, I was a dearly loved child. My mother is a very loving and kind woman. I was raised with all the care and convenience as the youngest son of the family. I was good in my studies and brought home many prizes and awards. I was good at drawing, singing, dancing, and writing. Slowly boys in my group began talking about girls in sexual ways. I never could relate. Instead of hanging out with and checking out girls - I preferred playing with dolls and my mother’s shawls. I remember playing with corn silks pretending they were Barbie’s hair in the fields. I hid hair clips, nail polish, and gajals with me.
There were times when I cried myself to sleep, my face buried in pillows when I thought about how people would react around me.
When I completed my intermediate schooling, I went to Lakeside Pokhara for work. I started working in a restaurant. It was a lovely place, Grandpa. People were nice. I learned many things from people all around the world. But I was also so confused and frustrated. I liked men and it was considered a huge sin. I didn’t know why I liked men or why I couldn’t be “normal”. I wanted to obey my parents, eventually get married, and have children of my own. Children who would one day, offer tarpan for you. In 2018, at the age of 20. I decided that I needed to move to the big city, Kathmandu to find answers.
In the big city, far away from home, I was nobody and that was the biggest gift I could have received. I attended an acting studio and did theatre plays. I started learning queer terminologies and started meeting other queer people like me. I met gay men like me. I began experiencing happiness in my life. In 2022, I met my Alchemist. You see, Grandpa, I was reading “The Alchemist” and in the book, Melchizedek the protagonist meets the Alchemist who guides him in his journey. My Alchemist called himself Astral. It was the most beautiful name I had ever heard. It was also the most difficult inside my tongue. It took me weeks to finally say it correctly. His entrance into my life changed its course.
He took me with him on his travels. He opened up a whole universe that I had buried deep in me wrapped in shame. He is the one who made me fall in love with myself. With him, over the past two years, I have grown courageous, disciplined, and wise. He has been my greatest teacher, my lover, my home where I feel the safest.
On December 23, 2023, I told my parents about him. They were shocked but calm, never shouting. They didn’t understand. So I tried to explain it in their language. I told them I had fallen for Mahadev and not for Parvati. I told them my Mahadev was Astral. Grandpa, they never forced me to marry a girl. They never took my nature of femininity as a curse or a disease. They seem happy seeing me joyously speaking of my partner’s name. They seem unbothered by my decision to live with a man.
And yet, I see it in my father’s eye. He is worried about who would now continue your bloodline, his bloodline. I assure him. It concerns me too. I want to pass down to my children what you passed down to my father - kindness and open-mindedness. There are family values I want to pass on to my children I tell him. I am still seeking some answers about myself. I am still carrying hopes and responsibilities to continue our family line. Someone after me to offer you tarpan. And in this journey, I am not alone. I have the man I love.
