This past Wednesday, I sat in front of my computer, repeatedly hitting the refresh button as I waited for a decision on

to be announced by the

. When it finally came, I felt myself choke up with emotion. The court had invalidated the key section of the noxious Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) under which the federal government was prohibited from recognizing same-sex unions. Over the past few years, several states in the country had passed laws allowing gay marriage (including Maryland, where I live). With the new ruling, the government would treat homosexual and heterosexual marriages on an equal footing, which meant that gays could enjoy the same tax and retirement benefits. In particular, gay Americans could now sponsor their spouses for green cards, just like straights.

Manil Suri is the author, most recently, of 'The City of Devi'. He lives in the US, where he is a mathematics professor at the

, Baltimore County.

What a striking difference from the time I entered the country in 1979 at age 20, when I could still have been turned away at the border had I declared I was gay. Of course, back then I was still exploring my sexuality - it was one of the main reasons for coming to the US. The first few steps I took out of the closet were very tentative - a call to the gay hotline when my college roommate was away, a quick peek or two into a nearby gay bar followed by an actual visit, attendance at a gay student group event under an assumed name. But within a year-and-a-half I had entered a relationship with an American. "R" turned out to be even more closeted, to the extent that he forbade me from sending his photo to my mother, lest the CIA open the envelope and conclude he was gay.The fact that the new ruling obviates the need for such paranoia isn't what made me so emotional. Rather, it is the recognition of gay couples as first-class citizens, the affirmation it bestows on such relationships. Several years after "R," I met Larry, with whom I have been fortunate to have spent 23 years so far. Were we to wed, we would now be considered just another ordinary married pair.Which is the way it should be. Gay relationships are generally just as conventional as straight ones, filled with such "racy" activities as cooking, cleaning, and in the case of several same-sex couples I know, raising children. Physical attraction may form part of the equation, but the bedrock qualities for a lasting union remain the same: love, trust, friendship. Unfortunately, the subject of homosexuality has been so caricatured, so sensationalized, that the routine life we lead can be hard to visualize.When I first informed my mother I was gay (over three decades ago on a visit back to India), she was supportive, but made it clear I shouldn't tell my father or anyone else. Once I returned to the US, her letters swung between dutiful acceptance and wild regret. It took several meetings with Larry, and some extended stays with us, before she started calling Larry her second son. And further, loving him as one.My cousin's reaction was different - she said she'd known for quite some time. Although she welcomed my disclosure, she advised me to date women as well, so I didn't "limit myself." She was at an uncharacteristic loss for words when I suggested that by the same token, she should encourage her two sons to try men. Once she saw me with Larry, it completed the picture, and she didn't offer me dating tips again. I came out to my father last. After years of hints about Larry in my letters to him (to the point of obviousness), he suddenly sprang a marriage proposal during one of my visits. When I asked him how he couldn't know after all the years I'd lived with Larry, he said he simply didn't. Although fine with my revelation, he seemed a bit quizzical - as if still waiting for a definitive yes or no on the matrimonial offer. In my father's defense, up to about three-quarters of homosexual Indian men do marry, according to a 2009 study [1] by the Humsafar Trust. This can be a harrowing "solution," as Jeremy Seabrook documents in his book, 'Love in a Different Climate'. Several of his Delhi subjects talk about how they are unable to "cure" their homosexual desires and how bad they feel for their wives.Although progress is difficult to gauge, the growth of queer culture in major Indian cities may be lessening the need for such matrimonial subterfuge. Visibility is key: people can be quite uninformed, and those who know someone gay are much less likely to be prejudiced. A big advantage in India is the "live and let live" philosophy of the dominant Hindu religion. There has been no systematic effort to demonize gays, as in various Islamic nations or the Bible belt of the US. Certainly, my own Indian coming out experience while on book tour this year has been quite positive: no backlash against the scenes with gay sex - even my uncles and aunts listening in the audience didn't protest.Which brings me to the subject of gay marriage in the Indian context. One might consider the notion premature, given that even Section 377, the vampire relic of British rule, still doesn't quite have a stake driven through its heart yet. On the other hand, Indian society supports extraordinary diversity, and is quite adroit at absorbing the modern to recast as something traditional. Why not bypass the long and inevitable struggle ahead and leapfrog directly to assimilating the nascent gay movement through a custom at the heart of social structure? Lest this scenario sounds too far-fetched, look at Nepal, so close both geographically and culturally to India, which has embarked on this very track.The point is, whether considering DOMA or Sec 377 or same sex marriage, there is one overriding argument. Gays just want to love and live like everyone else. Discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation serves society no useful purpose.