A Brown Kitchen

A fig cake for gay rights.

I was struggling to sleep that night. After tossing and turning for hours — my mind preoccupied with book details — I decided that I should work for a little. Maybe that might tire me enough. When I turned my computer on and checked my phone, my Twitter feed was full with the news: India had overturned Section 377, an antiquated law that criminalized gays.

Now I knew I wasn’t going to fall asleep anytime soon.

I can’t remember the exact time, but somewhere around the age of 11 or 12, I found myself finding men attractive. The excitement was simultaneously electrifying yet terrifying, an eagerness mixed with an equal dosage of fear. As a child, I had no idea what “gay” meant. I didn’t even know of any gay or queer people but somehow instinct told me to keep it to myself and never mention it. It felt out of order. It made me feel out of place, and there was no real-life comparison to make me think that this was indeed OK.

I figured this attraction to the same sex would pass over time but as I grew older, it only waxed. I’d secretly try to look through books on biology and sexuality to get an understanding of what I could do to change. When we got a dial-up connection, I’d try to get answers on the internet. I learned the words “gay” and “lesbian,” and I also found out that gay Indian men and women most often ended up physically abused, jailed or killed. Being a homosexual was a criminal offense in India. Somehow, they were not valued; somehow, I had no value. The world did not care for us.

I grew up in a fairly, progressive household, born to parents who came from different faiths and fell in love and married. Yet high school was a miserable experience, even though I was careful to never speak about my attractions. I was often bullied and called names, most of them centered around my perceived sexuality.

Almost every night, I’d lie awake on my bed, praying hard for something magical to happen. Perhaps when I woke up, I’d find myself attracted to women, or perhaps I just wouldn’t wake up and things would be better for everyone. Having experienced the bitter taste of abuse in school and the reports in local news, it was better to not be gay — or easier still to just not exist. Nothing magical ever happened and nothing changed. I was still alone and fearful.

Once I started college, things changed. My environment was different; I moved from an all-boys high school to a coed college. The expectations were different: You were expected to go on a date, you were expected to have a girlfriend, you were expected to hand out a rose to your beloved on “Rose Day.” I felt the thick ropes set by society tightening around me.

It was clear: I had no place here. Home was not home.

My first round of applications to graduate schools were all unsuccessful, with many saying I lacked the proper experience. Perhaps I was being punished for my sexuality and this was some kind of divine retribution. I felt beaten by the system. But a year later, with extra lab research and coursework under my belt, I applied again. My first acceptance letter arrived, and then another and another. In all, I got accepted to 10 different graduate programs with full financial aid.

That fall, I packed up and left to study genetics in Cincinnati.

A few months later, I came out. Several years later, I got married. I was one of the fortunate ones, the one who got a chance, a glimmer of hope and freedom to love and to live.

When I heard the news that Section 377 was no longer a rule, I felt strange at first. I’ve lived for more than a decade freely as a gay man, and often I’ve taken my new freedoms for granted. As I scrolled through my phone, I remembered a young boy, lying awake at night, wondering what was wrong with him and why he didn’t fit in this world he was born in.

Now, things will be different. A queer child might not have to question why she or he doesn’t belong in their country of birth. While attitudes and perceptions in society take time to change, this new ruling in India gives birth to hope, and to those who have nothing, hope can be all they need.

On that night — now early morning — my exhaustion was replaced with excitement. I wanted to celebrate in my own quiet and special way. And that’s how this fig cake came to be.

The fig tree, in many ways, represents hope surrounded by bleakness. It survives hot weather, and it produces the most unusual fruit. Technically, the fig isn’t a fruit by the standard definition, but rather an inverted flower that contains tiny flowers and seeds inside. A ripe fig is marvelous, its inner flesh sweet as honey, the texture reminiscent of beautiful jam. The fig doesn’t have to fit any definition of what is right or wrong based on some norm or definition; it just exists as is, perfect in its identity. It makes no apologies to anyone for its existence.

Nik Sharma is a two-time IACP award winner and is working on his first solo cookbook, “Season” (Chronicle Books), which comes out in October. Email: food@sfchronicle.com

Upside-Down Fig Cake

There are three tricks to this cake. One: Caramelize the sugar before it goes into the cake pan. Two: Line the cake pan with parchment paper to cut back on the amount of extra butter needed to release the cake. And three: Bake at a low temperature so the fruit cooks evenly. The end result is an upside-down cake that is scented with the perfume of the ghee, cardamom and figs mixed in with the bittersweet notes of caramel.

Makes one 9-inch cake

12 to 14 medium fresh figs (about a pound)

4 tablespoon melted ghee

¾ cup sugar, divided

teaspoon cream of tartar

¼ cup maple syrup

1 cup all-purpose flour

Seeds from 4 green cardamom pods, ground

1 teaspoon baking powder

¼ teaspoon baking soda

¼ teaspoon fine sea salt

1 stick (4 ounces) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature 2 large eggs, at room temperature

Instructions: Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.

Grease and line a circular 9-inch baking pan with 2 tablespoons ghee and parchment paper. Cut the tops off 8 to 9 figs. Slice each one lengthwise into 4 equal slices. Cover the surface of the greased pan with the fig slices. Chop the remaining figs and set aside in a small bowl.

In a small saucepan, heat ¼ cup of the sugar, cream of tartar and 2 tablespoons water on medium-high heat until the sugar just starts to caramelize and starts to turn a light amber color. Drizzle the hot liquid over the sliced figs in the pan. Then drizzle the maple syrup over the figs. Set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk the flour, cardamom, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Set aside. Take 2 tablespoons of the dry mixture and sprinkle it over the chopped figs in the small bowl. Toss to coat evenly.

In the bowl of a stand mixer using the paddle attachment, cream the butter, remaining 2 tablespoons ghee and remaining ½ cup of sugar on medium-high speed for about 3 to 4 minutes, until light and fluffy. Whisk in one egg at a time, until combined. Scrape the sides of the bowl. Add the dry ingredients to the bowl and mix on low speed until just combined. Fold in the chopped figs with a silicone spatula. Transfer the batter to the cake pan and spread it evenly using an offset spatula.

Bake for 55 to 60 minutes, or until a skewer comes out clean from the center. Allow to cool for 10 minutes in the pan over a wire rack. To release the cake, run a knife around the edges of the cake and then place a serving plate over the baking dish, then carefully invert the cake over the plate and remove the pan. Peel the parchment paper off.

Serve the cake warm or at room temperature.

Nik Sharma