“If you leave gay Maharashtra
You will always think of beautiful Bombay
Singing Mumbai amchi re, amchi amchi Mumbai re
You’ll love your stay in gay Maharashtra”
– An Evening In Gay Maharashtra by Mina Kava & Naju Kava
When this song first wormed its way into radio airwaves in 1966, it was as a simple ode to the joys of living in Mumbai but when Suman Sridhar reimagined the tune in 2014, it became an instant LGBTQ anthem. As with so many things, time had an irreversible effect on context. Her not-so-subtle allusions to queer activism (such as the adapted line “Come and seek out our parties/ And eat out your aunties”) gave this classic number just the kick of political awareness it needed to be relevant again. As the ‘socially enlightened’ generation, it’s little events such as these that bolster our belief that life for the LGBTQ community has changed; but looking back over the course of history, even with the many gaping holes in the narrative; homosexuality is interwoven in the plot.
In his memoirs, Babur once said “One day, during that time of desire and passion when I was going with companions along a lane and suddenly met him face to face, I got into such a state of confusion that I almost went right off. To look straight at him or to put words together was impossible…” Keep in mind that this was coming from the to-be Emperor of India.
You might then cite the issue of religion, that it was ancient moral beliefs that stymied the acceptance of queer tendencies, I point you then towards the Markandeya Purana. One of the 18 major puranas of Hinduism, it outlines the story of Avikshita, a prince who refused to marry because he lived his life as a woman. Gender was a fluid construct, and even in the story of Amba in the Mahabharata, she is reborn as a man to avenge her honour. We’re dealing in abstracts perhaps, but abstracts that shaped persistent belief require consideration.
It was with the onset of British colonialism and repressive morals saw LGBTQ individuals tagged as a ‘criminal tribe’ as per the Criminal Tribes Act of 1871. It was deemed unnatural, wrong, shameful and from being a regular part of society, those who veered away from heterosexuality found themselves shunned and on a constant run from the law.
When India overthrew the British rule, it was assumed that with it, their obsolete legal framework would be repealed, but somehow, Section 377 dug its insidious little claws further into Indian culture and became an accepted part of our daily lives. Though in the grand scheme of things, 50 years doesn’t seem like much, to the Indian LGBTQ community it’s been an eternity. One that has evolved with stigma, homophobia, secrecy, joy, sadness and a hell of a lot of self-discovery.
For the modern middle-class, homosexuality is no longer a revelation. Though there’s still a long way to go before it’s an open, accepted conversation, numerous support groups, pride parades, LGBTQ publications and Queer festivals have ensured that people are at least on the path to understanding that being gay is not a crime. But how far have we really come? It’s assumed that with privilege comes social conscientiousness but we put that assumption under the microscope, and it seems that something is amiss. We interviewed men from the older generation of India’s LGBTQ era, people who grew up in the 1960’s and 70’s - and contrasted their experiences with millennial men, the so-called ‘woke’ generation.
Being gay is a journey of realisations, one that really kicks off through a sense of self-awareness. “I was a late bloomer and came to terms with my sexuality only in my late 20s. Before that, it was a traumatic time having been brought up in a traditional family in South India with no access to information about not just homosexuality, but any sexuality. Talking to friends or family was not an option at all because, I myself was not comfortable with the feelings,” says filmmaker and prominent LGBTQ activist Sridhar Rangayan (55). It’s understandable that coming out in a more traditionalist India was a terrifying experience, but the advancement of technology and societal opinion hasn’t made the process that much easier according to Arun (21), “I had no idea what to do with these things I was feeling. My family wasn’t very orthodox but I was still scared to voice these thoughts to them. It took me many years to understand myself and then even more to let other people in on the secret.”
For the many men looking to meet potential partners, or simply to find support within the community, the 80s were a particularly difficult era to navigate. Today’s generation has the luxury of the internet, WhatsApp and various dating apps that can find you a suitable match at the click of a button. Before the tech-wave set in, the LGBTQ community was restricted to a few safe spaces in bars and clubs hosting covert gay nights or more often, cruising local beaches, parks and public areas hoping to catch someone’s eye. In Kolkata, a small newsletter called Pravartak was changing the game around this time. An initiative of Kolkata’s Counsel Club (1993-2000) they hosted small meetings of five people in dhabas and bars which acted as impromptu support groups. Young men gathered outside Kolkata’s metro station with Red Roses in their shirt pockets to guide new members to clandestine meetings. What began as a simple newsletter for Kolkata’s queer community and the backbone of the movement today often finds itself forgotten at second hand bookstalls but for the many people who found safety and companionship through its work.
There is something to be said for the role of early literature and media in the journey towards India’s sexual awakening. Journalists like Ashok Row Kavi (70) have paved the way to open discussions about LGBTQ rights and experiences with their unfiltered work on the subject. He’s best known for founding Bombay Dost and the Humsafar Trust, both iconic Indian institutions that empowered and aided gay men in India. His unfiltered coming out interview published by Savvy in 1986 was the first of its kind and he has continued to speak openly on the subject ever since. His belief is that “If you put yourself out there honestly and rationally, and people still don’t want you, it’s their loss not yours.” Though his self-discovery began in the 1960s he was fortunate enough to find acceptance early within his family. He relates the story of his initial talks with his father trying to educate him about the ‘birds and the bees’. “My father was explaining to me that boys whistled at girls who they found attractive, I was confused and explained to him that I found boys more attractive. ‘So whistle at the boys then’ he told me, and that was it. He tried to explain the concept of sex using a plug and socket, and if anything I just found it unhygienic. I asked him why it had to be this way. In my mind, girls should be with girls and boys with boys, since they so inherently understood each other’s mindsets. He explained that it could be like that, but it was definitely not the way to get pregnant.”
This open discussion and acceptance of his feelings was a huge factor in Ashok’s approach to his sexuality and gave him the strength to become the LGBTQ figurehead he is today.
Some people weren’t quite as lucky as Ashok, however, and the repressive ideals of the time complicated their coming out process, let alone their assimilation into society. For Raj* (41) his family’s religious outlook overshadowed his experiences “My parents came from a small village to work in Mumbai and since I grew up here, I don’t share their same beliefs.” He says, “I’ve never felt comfortable talking to them about my thoughts and now that I’m married to a woman, I don’t know how I’ll ever be free. My wife is very nice, and she knows I’m gay and helps me where she can, but I feel like I’m destined to live my life in secret. Perhaps after my parents die, I’ll be free.”
Keeping something as inherently ingrained in your personality a secret from your loved ones can take a huge emotional toll. Prasad Raj Dandekar (55) has some advice for people in that situation. “Take your time don’t rush, be financially independent, seek help, and don’t feel pressured to marry a woman.” He had a long journey to his own coming out and it wasn’t until his college days that he truly came to terms with his sexuality. When he did, it was only his close friends who knew and they became his support system, he didn’t come out to his family til the age of 24, when they were urging him to ‘settle down’ and realised he had to take a definitive stand.
But for many, it’s not outside influences that prevent them from opening up, but an internal debate. As Uday* (23) learned when he first started questioning his sexuality, “It was strange, I pretended to be straight for a long while. When I came out to myself, a lot of times it was a struggle between the family identity and the identity I wanted.” Today he’s still struggling to be completely open with his sexuality and still lives in secrecy with most of his family and many of his friends. This reflects how deeply ingrained the idea of discrimination has seeped into the collective mentality.
Though within family constructs there’s still a great amount of conflict on the matter, there has been a visible change in the public space, brought about in a large part by the interception of media. Prasad recounts his memories of the shift, “Youngsters these days are so much more accepting and though it’s surprising to me, there’s so much more exposure that has led to this. In my time nobody discussed it but now it’s everywhere, in Karan Johar films, news media, social media activism, it’s been normalised. Even celebrities like Wendell Rodricks are openly gay.”
This hasn’t dissuaded people vocally expressing their homophobia however, Prasad faced an incident of being abused on Facebook, but luckily hasn’t experienced any other incidents of discrimination. For Samir* (22) the situation was far more dire, “Right after I found the courage to come out to my friends in college, word got around and a group of boys cornered me on my way home and beat me up yelling things like ‘Fag’ and ‘Pussy boy’. Though I got away with only bruises and cuts, I live in fear that one day it will be something much worse.” Sridhar believes that fear can only make the situation worse and that by denying your true self invites more issues “I faced lot more violence and discrimination when I was still in the closet, when I was uncomfortable with myself. Once I told myself I’m ok, it was easier to stand up and confront anyone who is hostile towards me.” he says.
There are some people moving the LGBTQ experience into the public eye, like Sushant Divgikar, a prominent reality TV star, musician, actor, drag queen and winner of Mr. Gay International. He’s taken the art of drag to the airwaves and is constantly and unapologetically himself, he feels that self-acceptance is the first step to having other people accept you, and to the people that feel otherwise he says “F**k them”.
Though there has been a consistent - if slow - improvement over the years, it’s mainly confined to the metro cities of India. Rural areas still lag light years behind in their outlook and opportunity for open dialogue and acceptance. The atmosphere in most villages is distinctly heteronormative and changing that dogmatic belief involves opening up conversations that people aren’t willing to have yet. “Most migrate to bigger cities and try to negotiate a life, or give into pressure and lead a double-life within the confines of a family. Many still look at it as ‘Karma’ and are resigned to bury their real feelings deep down.”
We’ve seen so much advancement, with zines like Gaysi constantly breaking boundaries and Pride Parades being held in cities everywhere, but scratch the surface and below lies a simmering pool of discrimination, lying dormant. In 50 years, if so little has really changed in the experience of being gay and coming out in India, it’s time we considered what changes we need to implement to truly set up an atmosphere of care and understanding so that in the centuries ahead, men no longer need to give their sexuality a second thought.
Feature image: (L) Ashok Row Kavi (image source: Twitter) and (R) Sushant Divgikar in his drag avatar, Rani Ko-He-Noor (image source: Hindustan Times).
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