Desi LGBT+ Fest 2023
@desi-lgbt-fest
Day 2: Legacy
All her life, Durga had been told that she was a good daughter.
All through school, she had been called a ‘pleasure to teach’. Students regarded her with wary awe: she was the good girl, who did her homework and listened to the teacher and never, ever stepped a foot out of line.
All my life, her father had told her, “Beti, you have to be a good girl. Strike that – you have to be the best. There are many eyes watching us.”
He was right, of course. He was a major army lieutenant – Arjit Sindh, a household name for his medals and bravery. Ever since Durga was a child, she had watched him salute the tricolour every morning, watched his juniors (and god, there were lots of them) salute to him.
While others dreamed of being artists and musicians, she dreamed of her first day holding a rifle.
While others looked up to Abdul Kalam or Lata Mangeshkar, her walls were covered in photos of Gunjan Saxena, Vikram Batra, everyone who had ever won the Param Vir chakra.
She had a legacy to inherit, a place to fill.
Her dreams may have been out of place, but they were in vivid technicolour none the less. She faced up to her dream with a steady heart.
Her father approved, and watched from a distance as the Indian Army became entrenched deep inside her heart.
She had always followed in his footsteps. The golden girl she might have been, but she was a golden girl you shouldn’t mess with. She had always been raised to be a loyal servant of the army, the loyal servant of her country.
As her father's daughter, she was proud to uphold his legacy.
Karate, Jiu Jitsu, yoga, junior boot camp. Durga was signed up for all of it, and every summer she trained without fail.
On her eighteenth birthday, she joined the army. What else could she do? I mean, it had been her dream for as long as she could remember. She hit it out of the park. She had been training to assemble a gun since she was sixteen. The other recruits were no match for her.
They were playing for glory (or so she thought).
She was playing for honour.
Or was she?
Durga saw her first at her graduation ceremony.
Her name was before Durga’s.
“Sharma, Saranika!”
Saranika. Such a beautiful name.
All of a sudden, she was reminded of her childhood when her mother sang beautiful Hindustani music. That was what Saranika Sharma's name reminded Durga of.
“Sindh, Durga!”
She snapped out of she reverie, and walked onto the stage, determined to forget the girl with the beautiful name.
-
Months passed. Promotion after promotion came her way. Talent, or nepotism? Who knew? Slowly but surely, she was becoming jaded. Life seemed grey and joyless, and even at the young age of twenty-one, the lines under her eyes were becoming more and more pronounced.
The day was an ordinary one – so mundane that Durga didn’t even read over the details, instead preferring to wing the training exercise. She was assigned two officers to help out. Major Raj Kuldeep and Major Saranika Sharma.
…wait, what?
She re-read the document again, eyes alight. Major Saranika Sharma.
Almost unbidden, her mind flashed back to that day, when she had heard her name but didn’t see her face. Durga’s heart stumbled at just the thought, secretive smile stretching her lips open. It hurt – maybe the first time she had smiled in days, weeks even.
She arrived at the training exercise fifteen minutes early, pretending to be absorbed in the details of the exercise.
An officer arrived, and saluted in front of her. “Ma’am!”
From the evidently male voice, her hopes were dashed already. She looked up. “Major Kuldeep.” She inclined her head in recognition, and the man smiled at her tightly. It was a regulation army smile – deferent and not too intimate.
“I believe Officer Sharma will be arriving in a few minutes, ma’am.” He informed, and she nodded, returning to her papers to hide the thumping of her heart.
Why was I feeling this way? The thought hit her all of a sudden, but she didn’t have time to process it.
She had arrived.
“Ma’am, it’s good to finally meet you.” she deferred from the standard greeting, and she looked up.
She was beautiful. My God, she was beautiful. Her cinnamon skin looked so soft, and Durga fought to tear her eyes off of her prominent collarbones-
Durga’s eyes widened as she hastily raised her eyes to meet her face.
She instantly regretted it. Wide, honest eyes, full lips, and a gorgeously sharp jawline.
Before she could say something she would regret, she greeted her. “Major Sharma, may I ask why?” Hints of curiosity pricked at her. She wanted to unravel every secret of this Saranika’s, big and small.
Saranika met her gaze with the barest hint of a challenge in the way she raised her chin. “Who wouldn’t want to meet the prodigy of the army?” she smiled with a small shrug. Major Kuldeep was watching, slack-jawed, at the casual way Major Sharma was addressing Durga, but the women had only eyes for each other.
“I hardly believe I’m a prodigy.” The words slipped out before Durga could change them, and she disguised the raw honesty in them with a short laugh. “Hard work gets you far, Major Sharma.”
Suddenly, she wanted to get as far away from this enchanting woman as possible. She could feel her back prickle with sweat and she could swear her face was heating up.
“I don’t doubt it, ma’am.” Saranika – no, she was Major Sharma, when had Durga started addressing her so casually? – replied promptly. “Talent can only get you so for before you need more to take you further.”
Durga ended the conversation with a clipped nod, checking the watch on her wrist. “We had best be going.” She turned to Kuldeep, who snapped to attention. “At ease.”
She finished the training in a daze, dismissing the recruits five minutes early with an uneasy frown on her face. Rumours were flying around that the infamous Durga Sindh had something on her mind. She heeded none of it as she headed to the mess hall to eat lunch.
Almost out of instinct, she scanned the hall for Saranika, finally noticing her tucked away in the back of the hall.
She sent her a note to come and eat with her in her office. Saranika arrived five minutes later.
Durga gestured for her to sit down. “I was impressed with your performance in the training exercise today, Major Sharma.” Bullshit. She hadn’t paid attention to even a single second of that training exercise.
Saranika ducked her head shyly, a strand of hair falling forward, and Durga resisted the urge to lean forward and tuck it behind her ear. “Thankyou, ma’am. I appreciate it.”
“Call me Durga. No need for formalities in my office.” She blurted out, cursing herself immediately as the words slipped out. That seemed to happen a lot around her.
Saranika looked up suddenly, startled. “I couldn’t possibly be so… informal, ma’am.” She hesitated.
“I insist.” Durga said.
“Very well, then… Durga-ji.”
-
From then on, it only got better. Lunch turned into days off, days off turned into weekends until finally, Durga worked up the courage.
“I- I wanted- what I meant to say was- the thing is- will you be my girlfriend?”
The sight of her then, with her hair loose and framing her face, was enough for Durga to plant a chaste kiss on the cheek of her girlfriend.
Only one thing was left.
Durga had to tell her father, a strict adherent to tradition and principles, that she was a lesbian.
-
“Papa… I met someone.”
She had phrased it carefully enough, hesitating over each and every word. Her father, aged but no less sharp, looked at her (or through her, it seemed sometimes).
“That’s lovely, beti.” His old face creased in a smile. “Bring him home this weekend, hm?”
There it was. Durga opened her mouth and closed it again, pressing her lips together in shame of her own cowardice. Her father was watching.
“He’s a Hindu, right? Not a Muslim? It’s okay if he is, as long as he’s respectful to you.” Her father tried to reassure her seeing her distress, and tears fell down Durga’s cheeks.
“She’s not a boy!” she burst out all of a sudden, hiding her face in her hands as she heard her father’s small intake of breath. Water dripped from her eyes, wetting her hands and falling in droplets onto the cold marble times.
“Accha, I see.” Her father leaned forward in his chair, wiping Durga’s tears away. “Bring her home this weekend, hm? I hope she’s pretty.”
Durga couldn’t do anything much more than stare. “You’re- you’re okay with this? But people will-”
He let out a deep chuckle. “The world has changed since I was young, Durga.” He smiled down on her fondly. “You young people are teaching us that it is okay to love whoever you love. There are people out there like you and your girlfriend, right?”
Durga nodded, open-mouthed. “But- papa- you- I’m a lesbian.”
He waved her away, a mock frown on his face. “Of course I know that now. I’m not stupid. Bring that girl home on Saturday, and I will see what food we can get for her. Leave it to me.”
Yes, her father followed tradition. Yes, he had his legacy to uphold, and his honour. But he was a man of good sense, and the world was changing after all. Why not see what good it could bring?
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Okay so I know nothing about the military, literally nothing so the ranks/greetings/whatever might be off, please suspend disbelief while reading :D and tell me what you think in reblogs/comments!
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