By Anonymous
My boyfriend and I being together is a modern day phenomenon. In any other time period, our love would have been forbidden or impossible — I am a privileged white girl from coastal California; he is the son of a bankrupted textile factory owner from central India. Of course, the only place in the world our spirits could cross paths is on the undefinably magical campus of a modern American university.
Ironically, we met at our college meditation club, an escape from the superficial smiles of frat boys and sorority girls. I was there for relief from the words running through my head reading books endlessly while studying literature. At the time, I thought about leaving it all behind and becoming a nun. He was there to quiet his mind from the code going through his brain a million miles an hour. He, too, considered becoming a monk.
Our hearts found each other’s in the romantic incandescence of the multi-purpose room. He is the love of my life. We decided to forego our respective paths to the convent and temple, and instead be together.
It is nothing short of a miracle of his own volition that my boyfriend is in the U.S., completing his graduate studies in computer science. I love him because of his traditional, hardworking, loyal mindset along with his moral compass, caring and loving nature, and honesty.
His life, on the opposite side of the world, was one of immense studying and self-direction. Meanwhile, in my posh suburban village, I never had to worry about money for a second. I had sleepovers, excelled in sports, and majored in the liberal arts. My relationship with him has opened my eyes, to say the least.
Before meeting him, I was certain my worldview was the right one. After my time spent with him and living abroad, my heart feels much more tangled.
