I had the pleasure of meeting Jason on my second day in Australia as an international student back in July 2004. Little did I know at the time that it was his birthday. The weather was quite chilly for July, much colder than what I was used to in Bangalore. Despite having a winter coat, I couldn’t escape the biting cold. I hurriedly made my way to my first creative writing class at Sydney Uni, where I arrived late and found the only available spot next to Jason.
After class, the whole group decided to head to the pub to establish some camaraderie. On the surface, Jason and I seemed like an odd match. I came from a conservative Hindu family in a small town in India, and he had been brought up as a Jehovah’s Witness in a small town in the USA. However, we had both left our religious upbringings behind, and something just clicked between us.
The first time I read his work, I couldn’t help but exclaim to my amazed hostel-mate, “His poems are actually good!” That day, we sat together at a table, enjoying a little too much wine and engrossed in discussions about literary giants like Dostoevsky, Camus, and Voltaire. Despite our different backgrounds, it was evident that we shared a similar passion for literature and writing.
As our friendship deepened, we began to share our own creative works. I was anxious about exposing my short stories to him, and similarly, I worried about disappointing him with my own writing. However, when I finally read his poetry, I couldn’t contain my excitement and shouted to my bewildered hostel-mate, “His poems don’t suck!”
Falling in love with Jason felt effortless, as if we were two people moving in perfect harmony. But we were unprepared for the intensity of our emotions. We spent every waking moment together, reading, writing, playing Scrabble, listening to Billie Holiday and Diana Krall, and engaging in deep conversations late into the night.
While we had originally come to Australia seeking adventure, I had always intended to return home, whereas Jason was unsure about his future plans. As our relationship grew more serious, we had to confront the question of whether we were willing to change our plans for love. Did we really want to stay in Australia? Were we prepared to navigate the visa obstacles just to be together? Unfortunately, the answer was no, and after nine months, we decided to part ways.
During our time apart, we both found employment on 457 work visas, which allowed us to stay in Sydney. I worked as a technical writer, while Jason became a restaurant manager. However, our stay in the country was dependent on our jobs. I played the 457 visa game, switching jobs to extend my stay, but it was challenging, and there was always the fear that I might be forced to return home soon.
Although we saw other people casually during our separation, we continued to exchange late-night texts and emails. Birthdays were marked by poetry, and we would send each other postcards whenever we traveled. It became increasingly clear that staying apart was hard work.
After months of no contact, I impulsively decided to visit Jason at his restaurant on King Street Wharf. I’m still not sure what compelled me to go, but as I approached the restaurant, my heart raced, sensing that it could be our last chance to salvage our relationship.
The restaurant door was open, and I could see Jason from across Lime Street, engrossed in the reservations book. Other staff members were setting up tables behind him. I vividly remember his purple shirt and the way he looked up and noticed me approaching before enfolding me in a tight embrace.
I don’t recall the specifics of our conversation that day, but what stayed with me was how he held me and the way he looked at me. In that moment, I knew that we had something worth giving ourselves completely to, if he felt the same.
We met at a bar the following night, and Jason posed a hypothetical question, asking, “If I were to ask you to marry me, what would you say?” Without hesitation, I replied, “Hypothetically, yes.” It wasn’t a formal proposal but rather the vulnerable utterances of two people afraid to commit to the sacrifices required to be together. However, over time, our initial nos turned into resounding yeses. Yes, we were willing to face the visa challenges. Yes, we were committed to building a life together. Yes, we were ready to upend all our plans. Yes, yes, yes.
Now, almost two decades since our fortuitous meeting in the classroom, I jokingly refer to myself as the best birthday present Jason ever received.
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