Sunita's last carnival

 Sunita lived in Valsayn, an affluent neighborhood in Trinidad. She was proud to be Trini, always talking about the things she loved most: doubles, the spicy food, hard party life, festivals, and the sunshine that seemed to touch everything it reached. Most of all, there was Carnival—a celebration she cherished with every fiber of her being. Every year, she’d lose herself in the music, the costumes, and the sheer joy of it all, dancing through the streets of Port of Spain like the very essence of freedom.

But this year was different. This year, she had Kumar.

Kumar lived in Toronto, far away from the sunny beaches and tropical warmth Sunita had grown up with. Their relationship had started online, born of late-night chats and long-distance texts that spanned the time zones between them. She’d never met him in person, but the connection felt real, deep even. Kumar was kind, caring, and, as she soon discovered, more than a little conservative in his views. He was from an Indian family that had moved to Canada years ago, and his understanding of Trinidadian culture was minimal at best.

When they first started talking, Sunita had told him about Carnival. She described the music, the parades, the vibrant costumes, and the freedom of it all. She spoke of playing mas, laughing as she danced through the streets, half-dressed in feathers and beads. It was part of her identity, something that made her feel alive. But over time, she began to notice something about Kumar. He didn’t seem to understand nor care for it.

He’d ask questions like, “Why do you have to dress like that?” or “Isn’t it inappropriate to parade around in public like that?” His concerns weren’t harsh, but they were steeped in misunderstanding. And each time, Sunita would brush it off with a laugh, pretending to be the perfect girlfriend, the one who was prim and proper in every way.

In her messages to Kumar, she began to tone down her true love for Carnival. She painted a picture of herself as the demure woman, careful with her appearance, shy even. She avoided the parts of herself that loved the freedom of the streets, the wild, uninhibited spirit of the festival that was a cornerstone of her identity. She’d tell him, “Carnival? Oh, it’s not my thing. I prefer something quieter, more refined.” But inside, a part of her was dying inside. She missed the masquerade, the joy, the uninhibited celebration of life that Carnival offered.

Her desire to please Kumar grew so strong that she started to believe the version of herself she was presenting, the one who didn’t wear revealing costumes, the one who didn’t celebrate loudly. But deep down, Sunita knew it wasn’t her. It wasn’t the woman she wanted to be.

Tension came to a head during a phone call one evening in February, just as Carnival season was approaching. The city of Port of Spain was alive with preparations, and Sunita felt a familiar ache in her chest. She missed the crowds, the music, the lime in the streets. She missed the woman she used to be.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about Carnival,” Sunita said, trying to keep her voice light. “I think I might skip it this year, you know, just stay home and relax.” She could already hear Kumar’s voice at the other end, the approval she knew he’d give her. But instead, there was a long pause. Then, Kumar spoke.

“You know, Sunita, I’ve been thinking too,” he said, his voice gentle. “I just don’t get why you love Carnival so much. It’s so… I don’t know, wild. It feels like it’s more about showing off than celebrating something meaningful.”

Sunita’s heart sank, the words cutting deeper than she expected. She wanted to argue, to explain that it was about freedom, about culture, about joy. But instead, she just let the silence stretch. She realized, then, that she had been hiding her true self, pretending to be someone she wasn’t just to make him feel comfortable.

“I guess… I guess I’m not really a Carnival person anymore,” Sunita said softly, her own voice betraying her. She could hear Kumar’s relief in the silence that followed. But in that moment, she felt more trapped than ever.

Later that night, as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Sunita finally allowed herself to feel the full weight of her self-deception. She had been pretending to be someone she wasn’t, pretending to be the kind of woman Kumar could accept. But in doing so, she had hidden the very essence of who she was.

The next morning, Sunita made a decision. She was going to be honest with Kumar, no more pretending, no more masking her true love for Carnival, or her freedom to express herself. If he couldn’t accept that part of her, then maybe their relationship wasn’t meant to be. She called him, her voice steady but firm. “Kumar, I need to tell you something,” she said. “I love Carnival. I love the freedom it gives me. I love playing mas, dancing through the streets, being part of something so alive and full of joy. I am not someone who hides that part of myself. And if that’s something you can’t understand, I think we need to rethink things.”

Kumar was quiet on the other end of the line. And then, slowly, he spoke. “Sunita, I think I’ve been wrong. I’ve been too focused on how I see things. Maybe I need to learn more about what Carnival means to you. Maybe I’ve been too quick to judge.”

In that moment, Sunita realized that the only way to find true freedom, both in herself and in her relationship, was to stop pretending. It wasn’t about forcing her culture onto Kumar; it was about allowing him to see the real her, the woman who danced without shame, who loved without fear. It was about letting go of the masks they both wore.

Sunita finally stepped into her truth, with no apologies. Whether or not Kumar could accept her fully didn’t matter as much as her own freedom to be herself. Because, in the end, freedom was the greatest gift she could give herself.