Dissent
"Are you out of your mind!"
My father bellowed.
I stood there hands folded, trying hard not to talk back, shaking, biting on the inside of my cheek. He had raised me like that. He was the king and we were taught to respect him. Being a royal came with more restrictions than perks, especially who you would chose as your life partner was always an important business allegiance.
"He is gone. He left you. I gave you a month to get over it. You pined over him, moped around, ignored your princely duties. I let you do that. But now the second month is coming to an end and you will stop this fuss once and for all. Next month is the beginning of harvest and I have invited kings and their eligible daughters to a party. I expect you to chose a wife."
"Father, I am gay. I don't like women. I will never like women. I have spent the past days explaining this to you."
His nostrils flared and his face reddened. I thought he might have a heart attack. He stood up and limped to the door.
"I am heading to the lawyer's office to make my will. Make up your mind today else you will have no place in it."
"You are forcing me father. I can't change who I am."
He threw his walking stick in my direction and called a servant to get him another one. It was a losing battle from the beginning.
Father chose to stop talking to me in the coming days. He ignored me at breakfast. Ate his lunch in the garden (he knew I hated to eat outdoors) and had dinners in his room. He was being petty but I was not about to give in.
The day of his harvest party arrived soon. I, like any obedient son helped him plan and manage the event. The palace was lit up with flowers and lights. Kites and strings were piled on tables in the great lawn. Flying the kites was a big part of the celebration. At the party, I smiled and made small talk with ever girl he introduced me to. After two hours of putting up with the charade, I collapsed in a chair under the shade of a Deodhar tree, hidden from the matchmaking eyes of my father.
"Tired all ready?"
My best friend and childhood companion Suman said as he handed me a juice. He was my father’s best friend’s son, whom father had adopted after his family had died in an accident when he was only twelve. We both stuck together from then on. Suman had the gift of the gab. He could talk away your sorrows. He lived on the palace grounds and assisted my father in the daily affairs.
"I danced and smiled to my father's tune. The princesses were either anxious to get chosen; nervous that they would embarass their fathers or didn't care. The ones that didn't care were the pleasant ones."
"Oh come on! It couldn't be that bad?"
I patted him on the shoulder and said, "You don't know how lucky you are. No pressure to marry or climb the throne."
"Yeah! Lucky me."
He sipped his drink. I realized I had touched a nerve.
"Sorry I did not mean that."
"It is okay. I get it. So, tommorrow he is going to ask you who will you choose. What will you do then?"
I gulped the remaining juice, letting the tang of orange settle in my throat and set my glass down.
"I love Jiran and I stand by it. He will have to learn to accept that."
"You are still pining over him? He left you overnight."
The words stung and the sorrow festering in my heart threatened to make way through my eyes. I sighed.
"I know he hasn't been the best boyfriend. But I will not give up. Not till I hear the truth from him."
We both sat in silence and watched the party wind down. I wondered where Jiran would be at this moment. Would he be thinking of me the way I miss him?
