Sanghamitra 2008 by Sanghamitra GoodAsYou

Sanghamitra

sanghamitra

A Publication of Good As You Good As You meets at Swabhava Bangalore, India goodasyoublr@googlegroups.com

Sanghamitra is the journal for queer writing from the Good As You group and friends in Bangalore, India. This is one of the many other collective voices of the queer experience in Bangalore and India, in general. October 2008 Editor Nithin Manayath Editorial Assistance Siddharth Narrain, Vijaykrishna Ranganathan Illustrations Vivek Nityananda Design Tejas Pande Photographs Vijay Ranganathan, Sibi Arasu & Bengaluru Pride 08 organizers Suggested contribution Rs.50

editorial

Hello and apologies for the inordinate delay. Well, it’s finally out! Our sixth issue in 13 years and YES - our baby is in its teens. So like new age parents, we attempted to celebrate by shoving some porn into it but then like all rebellious teens it was determined to display a more virtuous front. While it is worrying because ‘nothing corrupts like virtue’, we decided nevertheless to get this issue out of the closet and on to the bookshelves. We did receive a decent response to our clarion call for porn but are yet to gather an adequate representative range that will satisfy the diversity of styles and genres that are particularly desirable in porn or erotica- if you insist. In this issue we present our standard bhelpuri of fiction, reviews, poetry and personal essays. Charan, whose story featured in the previous issue, is back with a short fiction submission. Sarojini Sahoo’s short Oriya tale of a married woman’s brief interaction with a lesbian couple on a train is translated here by Dibyendu Ganguly. The personal essays have been drawn from a range of sources, mostly blogs, and features some extraordinarily beautiful writing. From Alok’s blog we chose an essay that offers a rarely

represented gay identified voice that affirms a fluidity of sexual desire and identity. Priya’s passionate and witty take on her relationship with her girlfriend, Siddharth’s ode to Gaydar, and Mahesh’s piece on domesticity are sure to resonate. Nisha Susan’s and Arbitkid’s writing on their respective gay friends are insightful in different ways. While Nisha’s piece is a love song to a close queer friend, Arbit-kid’s short blog entry movingly acknowledges a richness of experience that he gains from having a gay friend. Sumathi’s lyrical essay on love, language and singing has been reprinted from The Week. Also reprinted here are three short pieces from the ‘Queer I’ series by Allygator that appears weekly in Time Out Mumbai. Jeevan’s film review is a personal reflection on Brokeback Mountain, while Anirrudh V responds to the same film through a fictional account in the first person by the wife of one of the central homosexual characters in the film. The three book reviews examine some of the key LGBT non-fiction texts published in India over the last two years. There’s poetry by Nakul, Joshua, Aniruddh, Ramki, Rajni, Binodini and Ryan. Vinay contributes an essay from his ongoing research on the medicali-

sation of homosexuality. Mayur gives us a short update on our struggles against 377 and we’ve repro duced the open letters against Section 377 by Vikram Seth, Amartya Sen and others. We also have here extracts from a presentation by Naisargi Dave at the Alternative Law Forum. The cherry on the icing is C’s ‘soundtrack’ that promises to ‘keep you shaking that butt’ as you love, lust and lose your man. Good As You has transformed considerably since the last issue. Mahesh’s crisp minutes of the Thursday meetings are scrumptious and a cause for much regret when you realise that they weren’t discussing ‘the same old things’ as you’d pompously pronounced they would when you didn’t go last week. And despite our plans to advertise the space not kicking off, we have a new member coming in almost every week with an unprecedented show of 5 new members at a meeting this April. An insightful observation on the part of Vinay at one of the meetings was that the number of people who were out to family or friends had shot up to become a majority presence at meetings in the span of just two years. This visibility and energy has also meant

more parties, as Abhishek now makes room for Party Square, an additional set of Good As You party organisers, and more activity spaces like Arvind and Vijay’s initiative GRAB, Bowling Nights, bi-cycling trips and Dhruv’s Friday nights out at TGIF and so on. GRAB, for those of you who missed it, was originally Gay Runners Association of Bangalore that soon turned into Gays Running for an Airlines Breakfast where the party-knocked-out queers bravely came in looking like they’d just got out of bed and were accepted sans moisturiser. Unfortunately, we witnessed a super low turnout of us Good As You ‘official’ kothis at the Karnataka Swabhimana Habba, our version of a queer pride, that was organised by Sangama and Samara in March this year. The march started at Makkala Okoota in Chamrajpet and ended near Hudson Circle and was enthusiastically attended with around 200 hijras, kothis, FTM’s, gay/bisexual men and lesbian/ bisexual women participating. Our presence online has also increased with more and more people joining the goodasyoublr group on yahoo and the orkut page set up by Mahesh. Many interesting conversation threads that can be accessed on the yahoogroup

and now on our group blog (http:// community.livejournal.com/goodasyoublr) would prove to be a useful resource for anyone interested in a range of concerns around sexuality. Also, Abhishek has been single-handedly attempting to set up a Good As You website. Thanks are also due to Priya who patiently dealt with our set of nitpicky fashionistas as she took a series of really stunning photographs of the Good As You members that were meant be used in the website. Of course, the last minute addition to this edition of Sanghamitra is Karthik’s story on the Bengaluru Pride, the first of its kind in the city. In an amazing turn out, more than 600 persons turned out for the event, dressed in colorful masks, hats and holding multicoloured umbrellas. The energy and vibrancy that day left all of us wishing for more, already thinking about nw ideas for next year. We’ve also added short updates on the latest arguments in the 377 case. With the courtroom becoming the scene of high drama, all eyes are on the Delhi High Court . Television channels and publications ranging from FIlmfare to the Economic and Political Weekly have focused on this legal battle. Tehelka’s cover story carried a detailed piece on the LGBT movement by our

very own Nithin (which has been reproduced here). We hope you enjoy this edition, and do write in to sm.editor@gmail.com with your comments and contributions for future editions. Also, if you want to see our porn edition materialise faster, get dirty with the keyboard or pen and paper, if you’re into kinky stuff like that!

The Good As You Team

contents like ya! 10 narrative convention

soundtrack

50 â&#x20AC;&#x153;love makes a connection that is sometimes beyond reason...â&#x20AC;? 53

nh377

alma del mar speaks

in search of a voice

arbit thoughts on homosexuality

domesticity

behind the scene

between queer ethics and sexual

froth floatation

morality

str8 eye for the queer guy

time

in the bowers of our indolence,

pillion rider

love has a local name

to fall in love

signed on to gaydar

29 377 matters 30

twin trees

loving women: being lesbian in

76 78

open letter:same-sex love in india

unprivileged india

a protest and a carnival

of camphor, lotuses and moonlight

38 queer

40 queer

42 queer

I:honeymoon travels I: gtg

happy together

I :doing drag

projection closer

46 because i have a voice

87 377 final hearings 90 update on the 377 hearings 93 94 groups

& organizations working

on sexuality issues

100

10 like ya!

“You do realise that I feel a certain way about you don’t you?” I asked, hardly able to get the words out. Rohit paused for a bit, lowered his eyes, and bit his lip. He nodded. A cool night breeze rustled past us.

to be walking on air for the rest of the month,” Rohit said smiling. He grabbed me in a headlock and scuffed my hair to show me how pleased he was. There, there was the reason I was smitten in the first place.

“Ya, I do,” he said quietly. “Avi, I’m sorry, but I’m straight,” he added turning to me.

“Uh, really?”

Somewhere in the back of my mind I suspected it, and I guess I was hoping for him to be ‘bi-sexual’ rather than ‘straight’; that he would turn out to be the love of my life after all. What was I going to do now? In all my imaginings of how my revelation would go I hadn’t thought of this possibility – I didn’t want to jinx something I felt so strongly about by thinking negatively. As I saw it, I really hadn’t any choice but to tell Rohit that I understood, thank him for being so cool about it and ask if we could just continue being best friends like always. “Of course, Avi!” came back his quick answer. “And what I’ve said tonight is not going to make things uncomfortable between us?” I asked, trying to make sure. “Uncomfortable? Dude, if anything, you’ve flattered me, and I’m going

“Ya, dude. I mean, how many guys get asked by another guy? But what puzzles me is that you asked me!” “Why are you surprised?” “Well, I didn’t think I was your type, you know!” “My type? Since when have you been keeping tabs on the kind of men I like?” “Is that a challenge?” Rohit asked, one eyebrow rising. I laughed. “You want me to describe your ideal type?” he asked. I was curious; “Yes. Shoot.” “Well, they’re taller than I am, hairier than I am, and much better built than I am. Am I right?” I blushed. I hadn’t really thought about it, but there he was, pointing the essentials out to me. I nodded in reply, and smiled. “Then, why me?”

Uh, how do I answer that? “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you look Rohit? You’re what any man would kill for!” Now it was his turn to blush. He smiled and asked me shyly, “Really?” “Ya man, completely! But Rohit, it’s who you are that has people trying to break your front door in!” “What!” he exclaimed, incredulously. “You don’t believe me do you?” That’s another thing about Rohit, no matter how many girls – or guys – threw themselves at him, he hardly noticed. Most people’s knees started to knock the moment he walked into a room. The grace and elegance with which he did the most clownish things turned steadfast cynics into believers. His natural camaraderie, empathy, and tendency to stick up for the underdog was truly endearing. And did I mention that awesome jogger’s body of his? And here he was, asking me how I could have fallen for him! Really, the only thing to wonder about in the situation was how I had waited so long to tell him. But I had finally done it, and though there weren’t bells of true bliss ringing in my ears, I was nonetheless filled with a sense of well being. Quite a surprising upside for a turndown huh?! I relaxed, wiping my hair back over my forehead, and

grinned back at Rohit. “Rohit, I don’t really know how I’m going to be able to keep my hands off you anymore. I apologise already for any transgressions that might take place,” I said, jokingly. Rohit considered it for a bit, and then quietly said, “Maybe we should just do it then?” I turned round to look at Rohit. My eyes must have looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets, because he quickly added, “Why not man? No chance of any unwanted pregnancies right?” “Uh, what about the fact that you are straight?” I pointed out. “What’s that got to do with anything? Wouldn’t you have meaningless sex with a girl if she asked nicely?” he countered. I stared at him like a deer blinking into the headlights of a fast approaching car. “God, I can’t believe you’re saying these things! I should’ve been the one saying them to you!” I said, reeling from the speed at which the tables had turned. “Well, you’d be right if you did, wouldn’t you?” Rohit said rather matter-of-factly.

I glanced at Rohit again and looked fully at his deep brown eyes, his thick eyelashes, the slight stubble on his face, and his full, pursed lips. I turned back to look across the street, my hands on my head. I‘d be a lucky man if I could take him up on his offer, but what I really wanted above everything else was Rohit to be my boyfriend, and that wasn’t about to happen even if we got physical. What then, was the point in jumping into the sack with him? I’d only be diving headlong into a mess I wouldn’t know how to handle. “Naw Rohit, I don’t think I could do it. I mean, right now, there’s a big part of me that wants it really badly and it’s kicking the butt of the little part of me that’s refusing, but no man, I think I’d better pass on this,” I said, sighing. Rohit turned around and looked at me, a glint in his eyes, nodded and said “Fine Avi. I understand.” From the looks of it, he wasn’t at all hurt about being refused. Thank god for that! I was done sitting on those stairs. I had done what I had set out to do and thought it best to quit while I was ahead. I quickly stood up and dusted my pants. Rohit got up and put an arm around my shoulder as we headed off. We walked for a while, and when I turned to look at Rohit I caught him

trying to quickly suppress a small devilish grin. I couldn’t fathom what it meant for a few more paces, when it hit me. “You total bastard!” I said, turning to Rohit. “YOU FUCKIN’ PLAYED ME!” “Me? Play?” Rohit asked, aghast, a hand over his heart, no less! A halo quickly sprouted over his head. Like a weed! “You bitch! You knew I’d refuse didn’t you, you little shit,” I said, as the despicable low-life stood there – grinning now staring back at me. “No, I take it back. I want that romp in the hay with you.” I said, smiling, lunging for him as he deftly brushed my hands off. “Come here and start stripping, you cunt!” I said, grabbing his shirt and pulling it up right there in the middle of the street. Rohit laughed as he broke free and tore down the street with me chasing after him, shouting obscenities into the night. Charan Grandigae

azurewaters@gmail.com

narrative convention

All of the conventions in my life are narrative ones. This might be explained by the fact that I didn’t do much with most of my life besides reading storybooks. The last ten percent till date (29th March 2007, age 22) has been spent trying hard not to live out one. To be a little more precise, the last ten – maybe even five – percent has been spent in a hugely volatile relationship with a volatile girlfriend with an eye for drama. This is, probably, one of life’s ghastly little kick-in-the crotch returns to my former attempts to live only vicariously. Now, it’s not chirpy little romcoms that flitter around my head. Or rainswept wind-swept melodramas. It’s not even love’s conventions that keep me on edge (though we have had running away, hysteria from parents, poverty and other clichés). It’s the bigger

drama of life and death. Primarily death. Death has changed from the ambiguous will-o-wisp of my youth to an all-round raging image of crunching metal or sudden fires or whatever else accidents are made of. In fact, you might say that a rethinking on death is one of my biggest casualties post love. So what’s the connection with convention? Well, everything! Young couples, happy couples, couples with exciting lives, couples living in times of turmoil, couples living a normal life, starcrossed couples (and we’ve had multiple crossings), couples that just made up, couples that just broke up but were just going to get back together for the rest of their lives… The list of storybook relationships that have ended in death is endless. What’s really scary, though, is that we have been all of these things. We’re constantly breaking up, getting back together, dashing across the city to spend a minute amount of time together, circling roads to avoid each other in times of strife but trying to stay close enough to still be reachable. We’ve tried to kill ourselves, kill each other, been ecstatically happy and deeply self-indulgently depressed. Deeply honestly so, mind you. Now that screaming hysterically in the rain in the night in a strange place with no thought to getting dry and getting home are in the past (fingers crossed)

I find our happiness together also a little too dramatic for comfort. We’re pathetically in love, subject to all sorts of disgusted snobbery from sundry singledom. This, I feel, is also not the best of ways to escape narrative conventions. Ideally, we should be a nasty, bickering couple that never fights long enough to make up and never talks long enough to break up. The kind of couple that lives to be a fictional 150. Our own level of snobbery, however, would have us turning our noses up at this perfectly long and unhappy life. Of course, I have to admit that neither of us has been diagnosed with AIDS or cancer so far. Now, who says that an atheist can’t be superstitious. At times, when we’re particularly happy, I insist that we say something remarkably and stupidly obnoxious to each other. To divert the attention of the gods, I say to my understandingly Catholic (former, in recovery) girlfriend, who, incidentally, has even been telling me lately to avoid giving over this much power to them. To grow up a bit. Of course, it was never the gods that worried me. Only them. Priyadarshini John

nh377

Every so often, a daring snake will brave the flickering streetlights and torchwielding mongoose patrols and attempt the crossing. Every so often, a daring snake will make it across and find the forest that side is much like the forest this side. II This is the darker side, and here there is great wickedness. The thick undergrowth affords us cover for all sorts of things. That side is full of light. No mongooses prowl there, but to get there, we must cross the highway. III For a while at school, I feared numbers larger than ninety nine. Lately, at the sound of three seven seven, I retire to my burrow. I like the burrow, you like it too, though you venture out occasionally. We all need a bit of sun. But our love belongs mostly to the shadows. IV Lately, you have been trying to contrive a system of

counting where you skip from three seven six to three seven eight. Just to be on the safer side, I suggest we skip the three seventies entirely. And leave thirteen out, as a charm. Perhaps, we should put numbers aside and manage with a Little and a Lot. People have been known to hobble by on less precision.

last

night, I imagined us in the dark side of the woods. We found a rock to rub against and shed our drying skins. We found a murky pond to slither in. Every so often, the trees let in a moonbeam that bounced off our shiny scales in the muddy water: love turned liquid. Nakul

in search of a voice

When I am riding my two-wheeler around Bangalore, distances get covered not in kilometers, but in thoughts. The moment I am on my bike I start to exist in several worlds. They are worlds of songs and concerts. And thoughts on certain feminine notes making love to me, arguments of ideologies, politics in documenting history of Indian music, funding strategies of NGOs, lesbian attractions of a sex worker friend, or who decides what is spiritual in music.

voice. He asked to search for a voice that had a narrative and to touch people through my singing.

Though I learnt to ride a two-wheeler long ago, it was my guruji, Pt. Ramarao Naik, who fine-tuned my skills. The doyen of the Agra gharana of Hindustani music always said that being conscious about multiple realities is very important. I was around 17 when I used to take him around Bangalore for his concerts, recordings and fun rides. He was 81 and was introducing the Bangalore of the 40s and 50s to me in the 90s!

It began with contractor Pourakarmika’s filing a PIL regarding minimum wages. We were collecting information from Bangalore Mahanagara Palike ward workers. The caste struggles that I saw began to extend to the world of music. Singing at a public protest with a Dalit activist was a slap of reality. His voice related the struggles. And I realized how distant from reality my voice was. That was the beginning of the journey from my lofty isolated castle to a world that tore me to pieces for believing I had a special ability. And the realization that in claiming this ability, I was being inhuman. I started treading into the space of inaudible voices—those of women in love with women. This journey took me to a new world of multiple genders and expression of choices. My song was full of life, as the search for a voice

It was a world of music. I remember the day I was singing just one phrase in raga Phulasri 896 times while riding from NMKRV College to my guruji’s house in Chamarajpet. The multiple realities, I assumed, were raga, tala and shruti. Ramaraoji kept reminding me about the reality of my

After Ramaraoji’s death I lost sight of my destination. But the journey continued. Smooth tarred roads were now fading into winding, muddy lanes. I had to learn new ways to come to terms with the reality of people’s lives. Where was this world in my music? The search for an inner voice made me listen to voices of another kind.

made me live the experience of different struggles. Language started changing. My destination was no longer M.G. Road, Ravindra Kalakshetra or Chowdaiah Memorial Hall. Instead I headed for the worlds in Mansoorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s music, the images in K. Ramaiahâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s poems, into the assertions of a transgender male and the fun stories of a sex worker faking orgasms. At the end of all this, my voice attained the texture of love. Today, I am on my bike again and the city opens up in terms of people, love, music and the struggle called life, revealing multiple realities. Sumathi Murthy sumathimurthy@gmail.com

domesticity

“It must be heaven!”, Monik sighed. “You are so lucky!” I smiled. “What’s so lucky about it?”

I think I’m done with the hall I think I’m done with the kitchen table…”

“Well, you know. You are living with your boyfriend. You don’t have to worry about getting a place to cuddle up, or go through long phone calls in the bathroom trying to reason with your lover that you can’t come over right now just because his parents are away. You have each other all the time and it is perfect. You guys can do whatever you like, whenever you like, wherever you like.”

I laughed out loud. “Something like that.” I said, cryptically. “It is very special, for sure!”

I could almost picture the George Michael video running through his head, “I think I’m done with the sofa

We talked about other sundry things for a while, and at the end of the lunch, we hugged and said bye. “Give your boyfriend a hug from me”, he said, with a hint of envy in his eyes. Meanwhile, I got an SMS from the BF. “Get laundry out of the sun. Forgot to put my black linen shirt in shade”. I read it only after lunch at around two. “When I get home, will do. Difficult to reach the clothes from office.” No reply. He doesn’t like my sarcasm. I am sure he is going to sulk. On the way home that evening, I called him. “Are you coming home for dinner?’ I asked. “Where else would I go?” “I don’t know. Maybe you have a party to attend; maybe you are meeting up with all your Page 3 friends at Koshy’s.” “Don’t be a bitch. Of course I’m coming home. Did you get the clothes down?”

“Not yet. I’m still on the way home. Wish you would be more careful with your clothes. We can’t keep buying new clothes, you know. I don’t know why you have to put away things in the sun and then crib.” “I left it out for the maid, but forgot to tell her. I’m sure she just dumped everything out in the sun. She never learns.” “Well, whatever. I’ll get the clothes down when I get home. So, tell me, will you have dinner at home? Should I keep rice for you?” “Make chapattis, na?” “No da. That’s too much work. I will roll them out, if you will cook them when you get in. Supposed to be partners, remember? Anyway, if you were home on time, instead of sitting at Koshy’s we could be doing all that…” “How do you know I’m at Koshy’s?” “I’m not deaf, you know. I can hear all the chatter around you. You could have come home early, but you went to Koshy’s.” ”No, da. Just having a quick coffee. I needed to do an interview. I will be home by 8:30, don’t worry.”

I grumbled, protested and tried to make him feel guilty, but he was too pre-occupied. “OK, ok. Just keep rice. Will talk to you when I get home, bye” and disconnected even as I was trying to get some emotional drama out. I bought curd, some fruits, a small packet of chikki, and got home. A quick shower and a change later, I turned the TV on, put on the rice and got on the net to send a few quick emails and read friends’ blogs, and check out who was online. No replies to my profiles – again. I guess nobody bothers replying if you say you are not looking for sex. Maybe I should edit it and leave it ambiguous. The rice was done. I got the veggies and dal out of the fridge, warmed them in the microwave, got the plates out, and filled the water. It got to be about 8:15. I called him again. “Where are you? It’s 8:15! Sounds like you are still at Koshy’s?” “Just wrapping up, da. Ten minutes. Will be home by 9. Wait for me. Talk later, OK? Bye?” It was 9pm soon enough. Friends had begun on Zee English. One of my favourite episodes where Rachel’s sister

comes to visit and gets Emma’s ears pierced. During the break I called him again.

“I feel like quitting and coming home. You will take care of me if I am jobless, no?”

“It’s 9:15. Friends is on TV. Are you coming for dinner?”

“Maybe. Are you coming for dinner? I’m hungry.”

“One second, da. I am on another call. Will call you back, OK? Love you. Bye.”

“You go ahead, da. Just leave some rice for me. I’ll come and eat when done.”

He sneaks in a “Love you” when he starts feeling guilty, and I know that’s a sign of bad news. I guessed he was going back to office for a couple of ‘quick’ emails, which would from past experience, quickly deteriorate into a long night at work. I sighed, watched some more TV. Will and Grace started. He calls. “Yes, how may I help you?” “You can start with dropping that martyred tone.” “Why should I? Who are you?” “Da, something came up at work. Very urgent. I have to stay here for a while, OK? Some important file, da. Boss is breathing down my neck. She’s a real bitch. She just doesn’t know this work, and keeps changing her mind.” “Hmm.”

“Whatever.” I had dinner, watched Project Runway for a bit, cleared up in the kitchen, put all the remaining food back in the fridge, the dishes in the sink and got ready to shut down for the day. I sat and read a book till 10:30, and he came home. “Sorry da. Got late. I’m so tired. Very hungry.” “I guess. Go have a shower, I’ll reheat stuff for you.” He grumbles about work, the juvenile attitude of his co-workers, the childish behaviour of his boss and the unprofessional attitude in the industry. He waxes eloquent about the magic of doing something really kick-ass, and how he met some really smart people at Koshy’s and hopes he can hire them. He goes on non-stop, stopping briefly for a quick shower. He finishes dinner and clears up.

“Do you want some chikki?” “Oh, I got some for you too.” He gets me a small packet. “I ate a bit of it on the way; I was too hungry”, he says apologetically. “That’s OK. I ate most of what I got for us too.” I took the remaining chikki from his hand and nibbled on it. “You shouldn’t tell me you will be home early when you don’t mean to,” I start. “It’s not like I could predict it. These things happen, da. Relax. Chill. I am here now, no?” He grins, gives me a quick hug and a squeeze. I push him away. I sulk a bit more, and let him cajole me. A little while later, we go to bed. I ask, “Did you put on the Good Knight?” “Yes.” “Where’s the water?” “Where it usually is.” “Locked the door?” “Yes” “Did you turn off the TV’s main switch or just the remote?” “Did that. Can we sleep now, please? I have had a long day.” “OK, ok. Chill. Just checking, da. Turn off the lights, no.” He grumbles a bit about having to do

everything even after coming home after a long day at work. I turn off the light and cuddle up. He says: “Listen, you asleep?” “Yes.” “Where’s my black linen shirt? I need it tomorrow. Remind me in the morning, ok?” I had forgotten to get the laundry down. I hug him tighter. “I forgot to get it down, sweetie. It’s still on the clothes line upstairs, I guess.” “But I told you to get it down! The sun will spoil it!” “Relax. Generally, the sun doesn’t shine at night. You can get it down first thing tomorrow yourself.” “This sarcasm you can manage, but one small thing like the laundry, you can’t.” “You want me to go get it now?” “No it’s OK. Forget it’ “It’s alright. I’ll go get it now.” I pretend to move to turn the light on. “Don’t be silly. It can wait till tomorrow. Just go to bed.” He holds me tighter. I pretend to resist and insist that I will go right then and fetch the laundry down. Then suddenly, we kiss and say, “Love you”. Yes, Monik. I’m lucky. This’s Heaven. Mahesh Iyer mike.higher@gmail.com

between queer ethics and sexual morality:

Extracts from a presentation by Naisargi Dave at the Alternative Law Forum ...One of the things that I look at in this work is all the ways in which activists engage with the political in a way that sort of normalizes the ethical impulse of queer activism. It is a tension in other words between the queer and the doable, between the embryonic and the ossified, between what might be and what must be. Or between what I call ‘the ethical and the moral’. My inspiration for this use of the concept of ethics comes from the later work of Foucault. And I mark the later work period with the second volume of History of Sexuality. One of the hallmarks of Foucault’s work was the concept that had been popularized as ‘power is everywhere’. So the feminist and radical critiques of this was that ‘If you are going to go around saying that power penetrates everything and that we all implicated in power, then what are the spaces for resistance.’ That wasn’t really a fair critique as Foucault said that anywhere there was power, there was necessarily resistance. So this recognition in his later work of the depth of power’s penetration led to the recognition of the depth of possi-

bilities for transgression, critique and creation. It is depth of radical imaginary possibility that has made possible through the very fact of subjection that is the place of ethics. Which is to say most simply that a group of people that is subject to norms must, in order to survive, come up with new ways of existence. Wherever there are limits there is an imagination of transgressing these limits and that is the radical potential of being queer. That our entire lives are basically a series of limits and the fact of having all those limits in that kind of distance from the moral centre of the world, forces us, enables us, and allows us to imagine things constantly. That is the ethical possibility of being queer. When I first started thinking about these questions I would get a lot of resistance from people. They would say, “Ethics! Isn’t that just basically morality?” We are in this time of hyper relativism where anything is OK and we are afraid of the concept of morals. Because in fact everything we are fighting against is essentially a kind of morality. Foucault makes a very strong distinction between moral and ethical. It is morality that he understands as a system of codes and rules, the space of the institutional juridical, and what is mandated is what must be dome rather than what possible can. Ethics are the

possibilities of what could be done. Ethics for Foucault, in other words, are those practice s and techniques that we perform on ourselves in order to become different kinds of people -- to achieve happiness, beauty, brilliance and life despite things against it. This latter project to desire a new way of being is what he refers to as an ‘aesthetics of existence’. Foucault was really troubled in the ways in which gay people /queer politics ended up rehashing old ways of being. New categories of policing how one must be to fit in. He wanted to talk about the need to produce new types of culture, and not just keep producing new types of moral laws on how we should behave, for then what is the point in being queer? What he said in an interview was that it is our responsibility to advance into a homosexual ascesis that would make us work on ourselves and invent a manner of being that is still improbable. This concept was not about identity politics, which was about discovering the true essence of ourselves, but taking being queer as the kind of ability to say no one is totally a girl or a boy- I am this other thing entirely and that’s the possibility that is my life . He understood ascesis then as the work at becoming and not discovering homosexuals. But the interesting question is what is this becoming? What is this work? What kind

of work is this? How does it relate to queer activism in India? Arnold Davidson points out that this work that Foucault talks about is basically a form of philosophical labour. And he argues further that Foucault’s work about this ‘aesthetics of existence’ is nowhere more widely brought out than in his daily life, something that did not get enough press – about the radical potential of contemporary homosexual practices. Another thing to discuss is the tendency to relate the problem of homosexuality to the problem of ‘who am I?’ what is the truth of myself? What is the secret of my desire? Perhaps it would be better to ask oneself he said, “...what relations through my homosexuality can be established invented, multiplied and modulated?” The problem is not to discover in oneself, the truth of one’s sex but to use one’s sexuality henceforth to arrive at a multiplicity of relationships. I.e. not to figure what relationships one is supposed to have if one is gay, but to use that queerness as a reason and a possibility to invent. There are three things in that that I want to bring out that pertain very directly to Indian activists. First, is a commitment to philosophical exercise. A commitment to think differently, to ask new questions of

oneself in order to analyse and also surpass the limits upon what can be said and done. And it is this aspect of ethical practice that he refers simply to as “problematisation”. Second, is an emphasis not on liberation, and resisting moral codes and not to reverse existing power structures so that queer people rule the world and straight people are oppressed, but on the imaginative labour of inventing heretofore unimaginable possibilities. The two things that are easiest for social movements to imagine are to resist, or to reverse existing power structures. Foucault says the point is to, after the philosophical labour of asking why am I choosing the easy route, to invent something else. Third then is the inherently relational quality of this radical effort. That was kind of what Arvind was pointing to earlier, which is inhabiting one’s distance from moral norms such that we are removed from the centres of institutional power- the very fact that you are marginal , that no group of people in power claim you as one of them, serves as the condition of possibility for the creative process of new and multiple affective relational forms. So this is a set of very straight forward exercises1)the problematisation of norms 2)the imaginative invention of alternatives to those norms

3) the practice of new forms of affective possibilities between people - that I’m arguing constitutes the often under-analysed, but certainly ethical centre of any activism that seeks to transform and multiply existing social relations. And queer activism is precisely that kind of activism that seeks to multiply existing social relations. …..How is it that even in the most radical of spaces we land up using the language of morality that we assume is outside this discourse? How do we co-opt these discourses and how does this affect the ways in which we make our political claims? These and other moral discourses are characterized by normalizing effects i.e. a narrowing of human possibilities to conform to institutionally-led legitimised movements. What are the ways in which our politics limit human possibility? What are the ways in which we place new limits on what is possible humanly? What kinds of relationships are possible, who can love who, what kind of language we can speak, what sort of politics can we talk about legitimately and what kind of politics are less important? So, this concept of ethics I am talking about is, I argue, at the heart of the Indian lesbian and gay activist endeavour, and the key problem for understanding lesbian and gay activism in India. How do

these ethics, the tripartite thing I was talking about, emerge from and stand up to the normalizing influences of the political world that render that which is most potentially radical about the emerging form of activism -its ethical impulse- commensurate with existing moral codes. How do we understand the struggle that activism presents us between the ethical and the moral, between what could be done and what must be done, between the possible and the simply doable. How do we as queer activists go from having anything possible, any form of speech, any kind of relationship, to only doing what is doable or strategically feasible in a particular context? Naisargi Dave naisargi.dave@utoronto.ca

time

fingers interweave in mutual remembrance: wordless farewells before you disappear into the flecks of another relentless dawn I sprawl: trace contours still etched on the mattress, clutch crumpled sheets to my face, devour all signs of your presence, fast-fading I curl embryo-like, try to fill emptiness where my arms possessed you steered you through pangs of whimpering rebirth silence a.c. burps: chill air

envelopes me as i lie awake; resentful of time that brings and then takes away L Ramakrishnan LRamakrishnan2004@gmail.com

pillion rider

Hands on thighs lightly placed from behind My cursed hands on gear and brake Canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t hear you Come closer Warm breath

on my neck A heated-metered auto guy utters some benediction Hit brakes Inertia of motion Thanks to you hands tighten on thighs hasty lips kiss my nape and withdraw Aniruddh V aniruddhnatya@yahoo.co.in

to fall in love

A table set for one, Isn’t any fun I could have a fling or two But I know that it won’t do Why can’t it be easy To fall in love To stroll hand in hand Scribble on the sand And watch clouds going by I can remember A cold night in December Sad thoughts in my head And no one beside me in bed Why can’t it be easy To fall in love To stroll hand in hand Scribble on the sand And watch clouds going by So should I wait for Mr Right To sweep me off on a starry night I don’t know where, when or how Or should I settle for Mr Right-now Why can’t it be easy To fall in love To stroll hand in hand Scribble on the sand And watch clouds going by And watch clouds going by. Ryan Frantz

377 matters The case against section 377 of the Indian Penal Code, Naz Foundation v. Union of India and Others, is still going on before the Delhi High Court. Despite the fact that Union Health Minister Anbumani Ramadoss has called for a repeal of sec 377 on the ground that it effectively prevents gay men, kothis, hijras and MSMs from accessing medicines and condoms to treat and prevent HIV/AIDS, the Government of India is still arguing in the Courts that section 377 is necessary, as homosexuality is against Indian culture and is necessary to protect women and children from sexual abuse. The UPA Government in its reply to the Naz Foundation stated that ‘Public opinion and the current societal context in India does not favour the deletion of the said offence from the statute book’, essentially stating that the Indian public opinion is decidedly against homosexuality.

ing to him, that the penis is only meant to be put into a vagina and not into an anus. Obviously he hasn’t heard of oral sex, or lubricant, for that matter.

Last year saw the Hindu rightwing becoming involved in the case. B.P. Singhal, brother of former Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP) leader Ashok Singhal, filed a petition in the case. As some may be aware, B.P. Singhal has been on a number of talk shows, where he has stated that homosexuality is unnatural because the anus lacks irrigation or natural lubricant (it is not irrigated or naturally lubricated is what he said) as the vagina, hence showing, accord-

C. Many homosexual sexual encounters occur while drunk, high on drugs, or in an orgy setting. (Aßha! so THAT’s how I landed up with all those men)

His petition, arguing for the retention of sec 377 gives rise to a number of mixed emotions – laughter and horror, mostly. Several of the reasons are, however, also undeniably true. He argues, for example, that “A. 70% of homosexuals admit to having sex only one time with over 50% of their partners. (I had a nice time… what was your name again?) B. The average homosexual has between 20 and 106 partners per year. The average heterosexual has 8 partners in a lifetime. (And if we don’t have 106 partners a year, it’s definitely a good target to reach.)

D. 37% of homosexuals engage in sadomasochism, which accounts for many accidental deaths. In San Francisco, classes were held to teach homosexuals how not to kill their partners during sadomasochism. (Ok. so I don’t know if this is true or not. I just want to see

what those classes are like!)” Apparently we homosexuals are also not as healthy as our heterosexual compatriots. “A. Homosexuals account for 3-4% of all gonorrhea cases, 60% of all syphilis cases, and 17% of all hospital admissions (other than for STDs) in the United States. B. Homosexuals live unhealthy lifestyles, and have historically accounted for the bulk of syphilis, gonorrhea, Hepatitis B, the “gay bowl syndrome” (which attacks the intestinal tract), tuberculosis and cytomegalovirus. C. 73% of psychiatrist say homosexuals are less happy than the average person, and of those psychiatrist, 70 percent say that the unhappiness is not due to social stigmatization. D. 25-33% of homosexuals and lesbians are alcoholics. E. 50% of suicides can be attributed to homosexuals. F. Homosexuals account for well over 59% of the AIDS cases in the United States. G. Homosexuals account for a dispro-

portionate number of hepatitis cases 70-80% in San Francisco 29% in Denver 66% in New York City, - 56% in Toronto, 42% in Montreal, and 26% in Melbourne. H. Depending upon the city, 39-59% of homosexuals are infected with intestinal parasites like worms, flukes and amoebae, which is common in filthy third world countries. (Much unlike all of us, of course, who live in a first world city)” Apparently we also tend to die earlier then heterosexuals. (It’s no wonder then we can’t have long term relationships – we simply lack the time) “A. The median age of death of homosexual men is 42 (only 24% live past the age 65). The median age of death of a married heterosexual man is 75. B. The median age of death of lesbians is 45 (only 24% live past the age 65). The median age of death of married heterosexual woman is 79. And also, we’re also just plain damnedunlucky “A. Homosexuals are 100 times more likely to be murdered (usually by another homosexual) than the average person, 25 times more likely to com-

mit suicide, and 19 times more likely to die in a traffic accident. B. 21% of lesbians die of murder, suicide or traffic accident, which is at a rate of 534 times higher than the number of white heterosexual females aged 25-44 who died of these things.” 2006 also saw ‘Voices against 377’ file an intervention in support of deleting the provision. Voices against 377 is a coalition of women’s rights, child rights, queer rights non-governmental organizations and human rights groups based in Delhi, that have come together to campaign against sec 377. The intervention petition filed by the Voices coalition argues that sec 377 allows the police to unleash a reign of violence against LGBT persons, and sanctions a regime of blackmail, extortion and harassment. It argues that sec 377 is unconstitutional because it violates articles 14 (Right to Equality), 21 (Right to Life and Liberty) and 19(1) (Right to Freedom of speech and expression, etc). The intervention filed by Voices Against 377 adds another dimension to the challenge to the statute. While the Naz Foundation, which had initiated the case, argued that sec 377 drove sexual minorities underground and hindered efforts at preventing the spread of HIV/AIDS, the Voices petition highlighted the violence, discrimination, and emotional and social harm

caused by sec 377. The intervention application gestured towards queer writings such as those by Ismat Chughtai in the 1940’s, which dealt with lesbianism, to the more recent campaign letter by Vikram Seth and Amartya Sen, to show that homosexuality and the homoerotic were not alien to Indian culture, and more importantly that attitudes towards homosexuality were changing and were not uniformly opposed to queer cultures in India. The intervention also drew upon non-discrimination policies of companies such as Wipro and Infosys, and of educational institutions such as the Tata Institute of Social Sciences, and news clippings on queer themes from the 80’s and 90’s to show that people of different sexualities are coming out in all walks of life and demanding their rights. The intervention application was not filed merely to make heard the voices of LGBT persons, but was also looked at a way in which the different communities that make up the queer movement could be mobilised. The intervention therefore, did not look merely at gay men, hijras and kothis, who are directly affected by section 377, but also highlighted the story of lesbian suicides from around the country. Importantly, we were able to

collect true personal stories of queer people from around the country, and about 15 were filed as affidavits to the petition. These affidavits tell the public of horrifying stories of violence, rape, and torture faced by hijras and kothis from around the country. They tell us of being forced into a marriage and then running away to be able to live with a lover. These affidavits tell us the stories of queer people around the country who face violence everyday and yet continue to live on. For whatever the reason, the Judges who are hearing the case aren’t terribly enthusiastic about hearing the case and so have not scheduled the next hearing. But hopefully, our fabulously-pink-gay-god-willing, by this time next year, the 377 will have made some progress. Mayur Suresh mayur@altlawforum.org

34 loving women:

being lesbian in unprivileged india

“Homosexuality is a western import.” “When there is no food to eat in this country, why do we need to talk about sexuality?” These are the comments that activists and other individuals who talk about and live their lives as lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people often hear. Maya Sharma - a feminist activist’s book ‘Loving Women: Being lesbian in unprivileged India’ dispels these myths categorically. The book, a compilation of stories of working class lesbian women, significantly changes the way discourses on sexuality are looked at in India. In general, queer women’s struggles are understood in the urban context, involving economically privileged individuals and groups. This notion however, has been challenged by organisations such as Sahayatrika in Kerala, which deal with issues of queer women in small towns and villages. Similarly, this book engages with the issues of urban and rural working class queer women. It is based on in-depth interviews with various women from various parts of Northern India. It is

a text that seeks to and succeeds in recording the stories of eight women while using them to discuss broader issues. The insights of Shanti, a feminist activist who is from a working class background herself has had a significant impact on the text. This book is the first to vividly dispel the myth of lesbianism being a ‘luxury’ accessible only to those from urban, middle and upper middle class backgrounds. It clearly proves that sexual identity and practice are related to and are as important in the lives of women as are other identities such as gender, caste, class, region and religion. The text also records the specific issues of working class queer women that are different from that of lesbians from other economic backgrounds. The privilege of economic resources and the relative independence that follows is denied to working class women. On the other hand, the tolerance and moments of acceptance of working class women’s ‘queerness’ due to their economic value to the family is not often an option for queer women from privileged backgrounds. A classic example is Vimlesh – whose story is documented in the book. Lives as a man and works in a factory contributing to the family income, is tolerated if not accepted by her family and community. The presumption of a direct co-

relation between economic privilege and relative acceptance of otherwise loathed sexual choices is challenged in this text. It even redefines the nature of acceptance as is the case in Guddi’s story where her mother says, “If my daughter does not wish to go (to her husbands house), I shall not force her.” If one were to write the history of lesbians in the public sphere in contemporary India, we would go back to the controversy around the film ‘Fire’ by Deepa Mehta. As a response to the violent protests by Hindu fundamentalist organisations,Campaign for Lesbian Rights (CALERI) was formed in 1998.

Since then, we know of many groups in cities and some smaller towns in India that deal with issues of lesbian and bisexual women in India including help lines, drop-in centers, advocacy centers and so on. However, in spite of these groups – and of the existence of self-identified lesbian and bisexual women in queer struggles across India the spaces for queer women still remain limited. Sharma uses historical data to demonstrate that queer women’s issues have not been publicly acknowledged by most women’s organisations. She

speaks of many women’s organisations having addressed individual cases of violence against lesbian women but not allowing lesbians to march openly in the joint march on Women’s Day in 2000. The reason given for this was that the lesbians would take media attention away from other issues such as poverty. Thus, support in individual cases is yet to be acknowledged as an organizational stand by many women’s groups in India. Another aspect that Sharma discusses briefly is the ambiguous acknowledgement of queer women in the eyes of the law. Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code. This law (which criminalises “carnal intercourse against the order of nature”) has been traditionally used against men who have sex with men and male-to-female transgender people. This, in turn, has had an impact on the position of queer women within queer struggles in India. Those campaigning against Section 377 do not see queer women as being affected by the law as such, but only by the morality - which criminalises adult consensual same-sex activity - that goes with the law. Thus, the issues of queer women are neither that of ‘women’s issues’ nor of ‘queer issues’ as they are now understood.

‘Loving Women’ is only the second text from India addressing queer women - after ‘Facing the Mirror’, a collection of lesbian writing. .It not only documents oral histories of working class queer women in contemporary India, and their marginalisation but also highlights the complexities of discussing the rights of any community. While speaking of Vimlesh , Sharma points out Vimlesh’s lack of acknowledgment of her dominance as a Hindu Brahmin. She quotes from their conversations where the writer challenges her when she says, “I hate Muslims.” It is one of strengths of the book that Sharma does not idealise these women and their struggles. She understands and points to the intersectionality of identities, which serves two purposes: One, it puts sexuality in a larger social context. Two, it shows clearly that one cannot prioritise oppression based on one identity over another at all times. This practice often is not a reflection of the realities of the individuals and communities in question. At best, such prioritisation might be necessary for short moments, or as one of many strategies in social movements. The very concept of the ‘hierarchy of oppressions’, however, needs to be interrogated.The most heartening part of ‘Loving Women’ is the way in which Sharma places herself within

this book, and describes her own position in each and every story. She narrates her story as a queer woman in India in the introduction. Without stopping at this potential ‘token personalising’, she continuously speaks of how she had to try and reach out to her subjects in hostile environments where the interviews had to happen and express to them that she is here to support their struggle. She is also very conscious of her own privilege vis-àvis her subjects, who are all , unlike her, working class women. While proving to be a very vivid documentation of the lives of working class lesbians in India, the book, in vibrant feminist spirit, also examines the usage of the term lesbian. This is spurred by many women’s denial of the romantic and/or sexual nature of a relationship with another woman whom we might see as her lover/partner. This could be because, as Sharma points out, “For some, the recognition, validation and fact of lesbian sexuality had been an unuttered impossibility until the actual moment of interview.” Thus, Sharma states that the term ‘lesbian’ is used consciously - as a challenge to the definition of the term and more importantly, as an on sexuality. The research is meticulous, the writing sensitive, and the presentation neither sensationalises nor romanticises assertion of the

social and political existence of lesbian sexuality. ‘Loving Women’ is a much-needed addition to resources. The book is yet another reaffirmation of the struggles of all these women whose lives have been documented as well as that of other queer women in India and elsewhere whose stories are yet to be told. Ponni Arasu mailponni@gmail.com Loving Women: Being Lesbian in Unprivileged India Maya Sharma Yoda Press, New Delhi 2006

of camphor, lotuses and moonlight

Walking along moon lit steps With a wistful smile on her lips A fragrant garland in her hand She beckoned me as if with a magic wand Sit by me on these steps dear Of this old temple tank here. And Let’s talk a while For I’ve tales to tell. But who are you? I shuddered Silent words in fear I spluttered A goddess, a spirit that tempts may be a Mohini that evil portends? Shaking her lovely head she guffawed Like a hundred tinkling bells she laughed Oh, I am a fallen woman - Fallen from heavens Do you know Andal? She asked. I do, I do hurriedly I said. Wasn’t she that besotted bride ? Who poured forth poetry so vernal Seeking Mahavishnu ,the male eternal? Oh yes twas me alright she blushed.. But then the happily ever after part never happened, never came true. Listen now to my tale of woe One fine day he flew on his bird For a rendezvous with a third We were alone, Lakshmi and I As I gazed at that familiar face I’d seen on his broad chest

That always seemed to peer at me With such intensity Such divine countenance Such beatific benevolence Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d never seen before. The poet that I was, I melted on the spot And opened up my pounding heart And penned an ode to her whose lips smelt of scented camphor Love-lorn lyrics, lusting after lips That tasted like lotuses And When He came back That hooded snake Spewed venom with his fangs Tattling with a thousand tongues His face dark as a rain cloud Grew darker still And they asked me for a denial She did. But I refused and asked Why does it cease to be love divine? When a goddess possesses mine? And why is it so healthy and hale? When I love the almighty male? It only made him crosser still And made him utter words of ill will Fall down to the earth You wretched woman For your ill begotten confession And that is how I am here The wrath of Gods I do not fear And I am free To choose

To live To love Whomsoever I please. And with that my eyes met hers red as wine And the bliss was indeed divine L Rajani

queer

I:honeymoon travels 12/03/2007

mumbai

Honeymoon Travels Pvt.Ltd. has received lukewarm reviews from critics, but the gay community has loved it. Its not just that its agreeable timepass, that the (mostly) realistic characters are well drawn and acted, or that the hunk factor is decent (though Arjun Rampal got only yawns for his extreme inability to act compared to the evident ability of the rest of the cast). The film really scored because of not one, but two gay subplots and both handled with intelligence and sensitivity. Of course, there’s nothing new about Bollywood showing men more likely to fall for the hero than the heroine and I’m not even talking about those suspiciously intense friendships, from Jay-Veeru in Sholay to Bobby Deol-Akshay Kumar in Dosti, the bhai-sexuals as one journalist cleverly dubbed them. Badnam Basti in 1971 showed two men who clearly had a sexual relationship, but more commonly the films skipped the sex for the stereotypes of gay men as effeminate, outlandish characters. The sexuality of these characters was ambiguous rather than stated, but of late Bollywood has started showing them as clearly gay. This is partly because of ‘actors’ like Bobby Darling eager for these roles, however hackneyed, but also because of directors

like Madhur Bhandarkar who clearly get some twisted kick from expressing their homophobia. But luckily a few films have started offering different perspectives and while they might be smaller-budgeted ‘multiplex’ films, they’re still getting reasonably wide distribution, if only in metros. My Brother Nikhil is the most obvious (and best) example, though the closer parallel to Honeymoon Travels was Rules: Pyar Ka Superhit Formula. This comedy starring Milind Soman (automatic plus point) had a gay subplot that included one of the characters delivering an unexpected, and very moving, gay rights speech. And, even more remarkably, he then proceded to get his guy in the end, by rescuing him from a threatened arranged marriage. The gay guys in Honeymoon Travels don’t end up so happily. Bunty, played with low key charm by Vikram Chatwal, does get a bride to please his parents, but with who he’s also been honest and even become good friends. But it was the other plotline, with Vicky, played by the underappreciated Karan Khanna, that was really subversive. As a hitherto straight guy suddenly hit by a passion for the oblivious Bunty, he managed to convey that being gay wasn’t something for just campy or foreign-returned guys, but that even

regular guys like him could feel a real attraction (and not just sexual) for another man. And Vicky’s final drunken breakdown in the toilet, as Bunty tries to help without realising how Vicky feels about him, was agonisingly real. Vicky’s story has no happy end - the film says he would wonder all his life what would have happened if he had dared to reach out to Bunty. I wonder how many in the audience walked out of the theatres wondering too what would have happened if they had ever dared.

queer

I: gtg 4/5/2007

mumbai,

With summer full on us now, the city’s colleges have closed and across Mumbai young lesbians’ hearts are breaking. They know that with their last year of college over, these few summer months will be their last with girlfriends who they know will only be Gay Till Graduation (GTG). Despite the gay word, GTG mostly applies to women. Its not that college guys don’t have sex with each other, but they’re usually more secretive, more focused just on sex, but above all, less likely to be bound by academic timetables. GTG applies to girls for the simple reason that most girls still know that after college they are likely to get married off soon. So whatever ‘experimentation’ they want to do can only be till Graduation. Till then though many college girls are ready to go places most college guys would die rather than do - and again, I’m not just talking sex. Many girls are quite ready to talk about intimacy with other girls, discuss lesbianism from political, feminist and cultural perspectives and flirt with the few quite openly butch lesbians in their batch. Guys, by contrast, would just blush and clench their butt muscles.

Sometimes this is situational - in allwomen colleges and hostels, crushes are considered quite routine. In coed colleges, even in Mumbai, girls are often wary, with good reason, of hormonally charged boys. Hanging around with girls who treat them as they hope guys would (and no one could be more tenderly gentlemanly and respectful than some young dykes) is the perfect solution. The sheer confidence of young dykes, learned in their tomboy days, and reinforced in the face of social disapproval, is also a strong draw to many girls searching for their own strengths. Feminist interests bring many women together, and finally, it does seem true that women both mature sooner and have less problems with bisexuality than most guys. So what happens after Graduation? Why do so many seemingly cool and liberated women suddenly switch so completely to a straight and narrow track? Perhaps they are more practical and aware of the opposition they would face. Perhaps they decide they do want the husband and kids package. Perhaps they just find they like boys better. They usually do remain gayfriendly though, occasionally meeting old lesbian crushes to flirt, quite decorously, with them.

Which isnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t much consolation for the lesbians who have to deal with broken hearts along with all the problems of life after college. But just occasionally happy endings happen. I know one woman who never really forgot the GTG girlfriend who left her to get married, but she got on with her life and became a successful businesswoman, though she never had another partner. Then over 25 years later she got a call - it was the GTG girl, now a widow with kids and finally daring to get in touch again. They reconnected and are a couple again, 25 years gone by, but finally together beyond Graduation now.

queer I :doing drag Mumbai 5/6/2007

“Ladka hai ya ladki?” the strapping Punjabi hunk whispered to me as he looked at S., one of the most famous drag queens in Mumbai. The hunk had come to a gay party by accident (or so he said) expecting a ‘dance party’ and was shocked to find all the dancing going on between guys. But nothing freaked him out as much as S. sweeping past in silk sari and backless blouse, and when I offered to introduce him so he could ask his question directly, he completely panicked. “Nahin, nahin, dar lagta hai,” he moaned, despite being double S.’s size. Put it down to the mysterious powers of drag. I’ve never had any great desire to wear women’s clothes myself, but I’m always fascinated at the strange powers that drag can unleash. I think it has something to do with the confidence you need to cross-dress in the first place. It can free something in you as I saw once happening with a gay guy who’s usually moralistic and puritanical. But dressed in his sister-in-law’s ghagra-choli he let loose and became this riotous, fun, campy character he never was in men’s clothes. This drag confidence also serves to disconcert those less confident, like the Punjabi stud that night. Hijras use this to great effect, extracting money

from the most tight-pursed people by being so confidently disconcerting with their drag that their targets pay them anything to go away. (This could be why hijra drag is often so extreme, a parody of women rather than a real attempt to pass as one. Contrast them with the beautiful cross-dressed sex workers who have started operating in areas like Linking Road at night. Dressed in chic Western clothes, or shimmery salwars - saris are clearly not sexy enough - they are fantasies of femininity). But perhaps the oddest drag reaction I’ve seen was in a city club. Every year its sports team has a party where the younger members are expected to do drag, sing bawdy songs and dance campily in the best male boarding school tradition. Its all very heartily straight (or so they say), but one year I was there with two young American guys who had just started dating and were so in love they could barely keep their hands off each other. Some team members spotted them cuddling and, according to a friend of mine who was backstage, ran into the changing room shouting, “There are gays out there! There are gays out there!” Suddenly this bunch of macho men in dresses were all panicked because of two men not in dresses outside. I said

that drag normally gives you confidence, but in this case it worked the other way. At the presence of some open, unashamedly gay guys the straight veneer of the show momentarily seems to have slipped, leaving the guys as unsure of being in dresses as that Punjabi stud was when confronted with S in one. Ally Gator ‘Queer I’ series appears weekly in TimeOut Mumbai. Reprinted with permission from the author.

projection

Sitting at a table the world seems flat. But while I stare at you in tight pants, I believe that the world is not only round, but also that it has two hemispheres.

closer

Just once, I want to rush into my manâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s arms like a haggle of construction women crossing the road with a mad rush and single mindedness. But I am corrupted and I look to the left, right and left again. Joshua Muyiwa

because i have a voice

Ed Arvind Narrain and Gautam Bhan Yoda Press, New Delhi

The contributors to the book have written with certainty, ‘because they have a voice.’ Why, then would you want to listen? Even if you saw this coming, the answer remains, in all honesty, ‘because they have a story.’ If not, perhaps, in an entire essay or poem or article, at least in certain lines, ideas, or even a turn of phrase one is sure to find voices that resonate and stories, personal and political, that remain to be told. We are sure to find at least some stories that resonate with our own experiences and struggles with the queer identity. The book is an almost perfectly churned out academic exercise in bringing out a good compilation. The editors have tried hard to fit in different perspectives on queer life. In dealing with the structure of the book, attempt has been made to cover theory, practice (here dealing with the struggle of many who have tried to work in queering different spaces or the conflicts they have experienced within those spaces), and finally much more personal memoirs, ranging from coming out experiences to thoughts and feelings on the shadows and fringes that queer life has had to thrive in.

Personal experience is the basis of most of the writing. Taken in as a whole such a high dosage of the personal can be exhausting but it also makes the book accessible to readers, to make connections with their own lives or those of people they know. There are many entry points into understanding what the queer identity has meant for different people. You have for your perusal experiences of the lesbian, the Catholic, the Muslim, the hijra, the NRI, the activist, the cruiser and many more. The first section, wrestling with conceptual approaches, has some beautifully researched and well-considered pieces of work. Nivedita Menon tackles the patriarchal view of heterosexuality being ‘normal’ in her essay ‘How Natural is Normal?’ echoing some of Adrienne Rich’s arguments in ‘Compulsory Heterosexuality and the Lesbian Existence’ within the Indian context. Gautam Bhan speaks of the frustration with having to deal with an outdated Section 377 in the law and tries to understand the issues presented before those involved in bringing about legal reform in his essay “Challenging the Limits of the Law.” In Arvind Narrain’s and Vinay Chandran’s ‘It’s not my job to tell you it’s okay to be gay,’ one finds that, in terms of core view points, little has changed

with the priestly man in white clothes in the modern-day confessional as one reads shockingly inane, rude, homophobic and simply stupid remarks made by psychiatrists on homosexuality. If you’ve told people ‘I don’t need a shrink,’ this essay can give you enough fodder for your argument against being made to lie on the Freudian couch or more accurately sit in the electric chair. Muraleedharan T’s, ‘A Queer Reading of Cinema and Desire in Kerala,’ reads well enough for you to dump Brokeback Mountain for some sometimes raunchier, sometimes subtler Mollywood homo-erotica. Read the essay, and if you’re convinced you might just find your DVD bills decreasing and your latent linguistic interests increasing well enough for you to try unravelling those messy ‘M’s and ‘O’s in Malayalam. Finally Akshay Khanna talks about sexuality and all of the questions that come up in queer spaces about it; why call yourself gay/queer/ lesbian/ straight, what’s the import of the number 377 in your closet, what’s next on the agenda and even allows space to sample the joyous ‘arrey baba so what’ attitude! Moving from the theoretical considerations of sociology, the law, pathology, media and sexuality, we arrive at

the second section of the book: Stories of Struggle. As mentioned earlier it chronicles different queer people’s struggles with the queer identity in public spaces. From a queer man’s constant victimisation in every political space to speaking out violence faced by lesbians in India, to considering class dynamics, to college campus struggles to the travails of the ‘Englishpuri kothi’ and the rights of transsexuals in India, to talking about that shadow space between the public and private that the solitary cruiser deals with, this section attempts to cover many angles of the public space in queer living. Moving from queering public spaces to queer private lives, the last section of the book compiles personal narratives. My personal favourite is ‘In a Loongi in Chimbave’ where Satya Rai Nagpaul sensitively describes one of the first rites of passage into the male experience by the transman with a Noor Sahib whom the story is waiting to be told to. This rite of passage happens over the tying of a loongi. In ‘Leaving home to go home’ Sandip Roy’s confession of a loneliness that compels him to make a second family is touching. There are many other sensitive pieces, funny pieces and moving pieces about the deeply personal experiences of many queer-identified people. Death

and mortality, which has its own bitter flavour for the childless queer living in a society that looks at children as the key to eternal life or in keeping one’s queerness hidden beyond the grave, is addressed by at least two writers. Sonali’s tabulation for her poem ‘Sum Total…A Matrimonial’ closes this diverse collection with its wafer light humour and pleasantness. This early 21st century chronicling of queer voices from India finally makes for a vibrant and entertaining collection of stories and articles on queer life. Gayatri Kumarswamy gayatrikumarswamy@gmail.com

50 soundtrack

“Life is shit darling, get to know this!” says Robin Williams in one of his stand up comedies no less. So here’s a bitched-out bunch of songs that will keep you shaking that butt even when life’s handing it to you by the bushel!

Shit, he looked at me! Joy! Heart aflutter? Get butterflies every time you see him? Think the world would be incomplete if he didn’t exist? I understand sweetie, but don’t worry, this too shall pass.

Thunder in my heart

Meck

The World Is Mine (AC Remix)

David Guetta Full Moon

Brandy

Girl for all seasons

Grease 2. (Hey, at least it’s not as camp as ‘Who’s that guy!’)

Raat da na bole (Summertime mix)

Punjabi MC First love

Uttada Hikaru

Santa Maria (Wah hey mix)

Tatjana (From the Queer as Folk album) Catch

Kosheen Escape Enrique Iglesias

Love is on the way

Saigon Kick

Shit, he asked me to coffee! It must be true love! He did? Oh honey, I’m so happy for you! Alright, put on that dark blue polo shirt and those oh-so low-riding jeans, and off you go! And don’t forget what your Mom told you - don’t put out on the first date!

Shit, was that sex or was he drilling for oil? I’m never going to let this guy go! Rocked your world did he? Enough to call all your buddies and tell them what they’re missing out on? Oh honey, I’m so...

Your man

I touch myself

Josh Turner Orange sky

Alexi Murdoch

Son of a preacher man

Liza Minelli / Elizabeth Keeney She’s like the wind

Patrick Swayze

Always on my mind

Elvis Presley Your song

Ewan McGregor (Yes, yes, I know Elton John made the original...)

Laid

Matt Nathanson Divinyls

All I want to do is make love to you

Heart

Hungry eyes

Dirty Dancing Venus as a boy

Bjork

I love you

Sarah McLachlan Obsession

ATB

Love song

Get down on it (Denny Shaft Club Mix)

Path of love

Right thurr (DJ Jamie Remix)

The Cure

Claude Challe et al. Babylon

David Gray

In your eyes (Live)

Peter Gabriel

Supermotorfunk

Chingy (No, really, that’s the name.) Ass like that

Eminem (I know, I know...)

Shit, the fuck’s been fucking around! I’m going to deep-fry his still beating heart! ...sorry to tell you your buddies didn’t miss out on anything! They already knew. All too well.

Ani DeFranco

Shit, I’ve forgotten what happiness is! Where’s that tub of ice-cream! I know life is a little bit, um, depressing right now, what with the cops knocking on your door and the crabs the bastard gave you! But try to see the bright side - you’ll still have plenty of sex in jail! The trick is to want what you get! No? I’m not helping? Alright, I’ll shut up then.

Kenny Rogers / Righteous Brothers

Dressed to kill

Ain’t no sunshine

Bill Withers Fuck you

You lost that lovin’ feeling

Ne Yo

Eddie Izzard (I recommend anything by this guy!)

The Rolling Stones

Robin Williams

So sick

Paint it black

Not ready to make nice

Dixie Chicks

I gotta get through this

Daniel Bedingfield The beat goes on

Live on Broadway Cookouts

Eddie Murphy Himself

Bill Cosby

Mom’s gay porn

Talvin Singh

Margaret Cho

Faith Hill

Charan Grandigae

Let me let go Not even jail

Interpol

“love makes a connection that is sometimes beyond reason...”

The lasting glimpse of Brokeback Mountain that comes as a flash of memory and lingers (as those few spell-binding moments that you can’t get off your mind) is towards the end where Ennis holds Jack’s shirt embracing it. Time stands still before a man embracing the tangible soul of a body he can no longer hold; grieving in solitude over the love that’s dead ‘uncelebrated’ to the world. The journey that begins with a sexual act between two men gradually transforms into a silent love affair. The movie progresses beyond the first uncomfortable sexual act to the scenes depicting their affection and bonding where they have been together – naked or otherwise. It’s a story of love to die for,– a love that is impossible to get over or quit, a love that is indispensable. It’s the story of love between two men that’s everlasting, a love that has not had the chance to live together. ‘Brokeback Mountain’ is a love story – like the ones we have heard -– with a discerning difference of a love between two men who nurture a bond in the mountains that goes ‘uncelebrated’ unlike others that have been admired as the greatest love stories of all times. Says Jack Twist in the movie…

“Tell you what, we coulda had a good life together! Fuckin’ real good life! Had us a place of our own. But you didn’t want it, Ennis! So what we got now is Brokeback Mountain! Everything’s built on that! …. You count the damn few times we have been together in nearly twenty years and you measure the short fucking leash you keep me on …. You have no idea how bad it gets! I’m not you... I can’t make it on a coupla high-altitude fucks once or twice a year! …. I wish I knew how to quit you.” I know there’s a part of me that aspires a life with someone like Jack did. The message in this movie is not about the traces of hope and optimism left behind in ‘My Best Friend’s Wedding’ or ‘Trick’, or the tragic death of homosexual men due to AIDS, or the magic that unites Manhattan waitress Carol and successful author Melvin in ‘As Good as It Gets’. It’s the beauty of an emotional journey between two men – one struggling to break free from boundaries towards a life that can be, and the other fiercely sceptical of taking that stride. I have a belief – ‘Some people have extreme and profound power to love someone and there’s one individual who animates this power to a life-form that can be felt and believed – much

like the omnipresence of God!’ I see this power come to life in Brokeback Mountain. However, one must recognise that they were responsible for wrecking marriages and for the angst of their partners. All I am in awe of is - what they had together. Brokeback Mountain is a story of Jack’s dream that died – the dream of moving back with his friend and working on the farm. Sometimes love leaves behind a void that a few high altitude fucks fail to fulfil, a few fishing trips in a year can’t measure up for, or the Mexican guys and ranch neighbours can’t complete. It’s the void that is filled up when you have someone to wake up to next to your bed every morning, who gives you a reason to live and for the more romantics, a reason to die for. The movie is heart breaking and heart warming; reinforcing the belief of ‘love’. I didn’t learn about two men in love as a child, but today in my late 20s I believe in the possibility of it. Love makes a connection that is sometimes beyond reason and there are some like Jack and Ennis who have the power to sustain it - a love that is distant in matter but together in spirit, a love we don’t see often, but a love that defines

an individual - affirming to him the sublime power that is within oneself – the power to invest your whole self to someone – because at the end of the day it all seems ‘worthwhile’. Brokeback not only helps us imagine a life of what may have been, but to actually live that life. Jeevan frothfantasy@yahoo.co.in

alma del mar speaks

Wonder why I clung on even for that while after that. It all sort of ended that day……… That day when I saw him and the Jack guy all over each other. Everything actually came to an end. I had never suspected before that, you know. Ennis could satisfy me completely whenever he wanted to. Yes, it is true he would sometimes turn me face down and ……and………do what I hated most. Even then I only thought he was crazy and wanted his way. Little did I know he wanted to enter me just the way he would… I can’t believe I am talking about this to you! …it is betrayal, isn’t it? I feel cheated. Janette asked me the other day if I would have felt any better if Ennis was going with another woman. I don’t know. I think I would have felt miserable. You see, if it was a woman, it simply means he thought she was better. But a man…May be I do not have to blame myself. If Ennis wants to fuck a man, that is no mistake of mine. He is just .………..just….queer…….but he did love me. He did. He was a good father. Did he want both? Me and Jack? But you see I am not ready to share my man………..And he cheated on me.

arbit thoughts on homosexuality

Notice the comment on the second post “Ok babe!! Ah huh!! U go girl!! Who ever said being gay or metrosexual was easy?? Now allow for non blogger user to comment on ur blogs bitch!!”. I read it and i knew who had written it. The only guy who could call me a “girl” or a “bitch” and get away with it is Dhods. A friend since college. And he is gay. This post is about my views on homosexuality and how they have changed over time. Back in college I was, like most conventional Indian guys, “allergic” to gays. I remember once when I was approached by a gay guy, I ignored him and walked away, and I actually regretted why I hadn’t punched him on the face for trying to make an obscene conversation with me. I never really understood why I wanted to beat him up. I guess I was too driven by the society norms. I strictly believed in what was right and wrong. Or rather, what the society believed was right and wrong. For me, he was an ‘anti-social element’. During my college days, we had a large group. We were like a crazy bunch of people who had a strong feeling of belongingness, a very big ego, and more bonding and unity than any group I had ever known. We sang, drank, and

ate together. And since we had gone through so much together, the bond actually got stronger with time. In that group was a friend of ours, who was hardly ever seen loitering around the hostel like the most of us. I admired him for the focus he had. In spite of a lot of personal problems that he had, he slogged through the four years of engineering, was involved in a lot of cultural activities, ended up being the university topper. He then left shores to work for an MNC. I lost touch with him after that. That’s around when he confessed that he was gay. So here I was, in a very strange situation. Just 2 years ago, I had a very negative attitude towards gays. And now, I had a friend who was gay! About 3 months ago, I was in Bangalore for some work, n I happened to meet all my hostel friends (Including this friend of mine who had just come back to India). Just before I was to meet him, I wondered if I would be embarrassed. I even wondered if I could accept him as a friend. When we met, I noticed that he had changed completely. The nerdy look that he had during college was gone. He had almost waist length hair, wore Kajal, a very jazzy shirt, and an equally out-of-the world slang lingo to go with it. Not sure if I should greet him with a hug as usual, or just a hand-

shake, I eventually greeted him with a combination of both. And I think he noticed my awkwardness. But as we talked and drank, i realised that apart from the outer change in personality, he was still the same person. He hadn’t changed one bit! We are now better friends than before. And I laugh at the thought that he could embarrass me. His antics are in fact pretty amusing! That’s what happens when we make friends. We accept them just the way they are. I have come to realise how conventional my thinking is, how the society norms have influenced SO MANY DECISIONS IN MY LIFE - And how I still can’t think of getting rid of all of them. But then, once in a while, we come across people like my friend, who change the way we think. Cheers. ** In 1991, the World Health Organization removed homosexuality as an illness from their classification of diseases. Contrary to common belief in Western Nations, laws criminalizing homosexuality are not universally disappearing around the world. What is really strange is that in India, you can get a life imprisonment for being homosexual! Strange! Isn’t it? http://arbit-kid.blogspot.com

behind the scene

As Pooja arranged the luggage systematically, her movements showed those very signs of animation and alertness which are so typical of any passenger who has just boarded a train. Meanwhile, Upamanyu had taken out the tickets from his pocket to see if they tallied with the numbers on their berths. It was a two-day journey. If one found the space to settle down comfortably, and stretch a bit, Pooja thought, what more could one ask for. Why do people make so much fuss over this two-day affair? As if the space belonged to them eternally! Pooja pushed the handbag and suitcase under the seat to which she then fastened them. This time she did not have her usual 5-litre water jug. Instead, she’d brought two smaller bottles of water. Putting them away, she asked Upamanyu, “Shall I take out your slippers?” “Wait until the train starts moving.” He said. “Why this hurry?” Pooja said, “Nothing at all, but who will do this again and again?” “Okay, then, take them out. I shall go down and loiter on the platform. Don’t panic; I shall board the train in time.” Pooja pulled out the slippers from the

bag. She also took out two books from it. One was The Early History of the Jews and the other The Purple Sea. They had bought the books in Delhi, and Pooja had kept them in the handbag, handy, in case they got bored during the journey. What better way to pass the time than reading? After all that exertion, Pooja realized that it was hot. She wondered how the AC compartment could get so hot. Just then, two passengers occupied the vacant seats opposite theirs. Both were women. One was rather fat, but quite beautiful, in salwar and kameez. The other one was slim, and wore jeans and a T-shirt. She sported short hair too, like boys. They had a lot of luggage: three handbags, two big suitcases, one 5-litre water jug, and a largish carrybag. Pooja thought that the two women were mother and daughter. Their baggage made the place quite congested. The jeans-clad ‘girl’ was quite smart. After packing the space below their seat with their luggage, she shoved the rest into the empty space below Pooja’s berth. She pushed aside Pooja’s bottles with a karate chop and placed her own jug there. She stepped on to the seat, unhinged the upper berths effortlessly, and hooked them on to the wall. Now their side looked roomier. Pooja thought of doing the same thing. When she got on to the seat, and tried

to push the berth up, she found it too heavy to lift. Presently she returned to her seat and sat near the window, looking out silently. Once she had tried to see the two fellow passengers through the corner of her eyes. The one she had taken to be the mother had eyes as heavy and compassionate as the monsoon clouds. The posture in which the ‘girl’ in jeans sat looked rather odd to Pooja. One could have even mistaken her for a boy, she thought. Pooja told herself, if the fellow-passengers are interesting, the journey becomes that much bearable. Who knows how far they would travel or what kind of people they were? On her onward journey, she had nice fellow passengers. The guy on the upper berth had slept through the journey. The lady on the lower berth was from Madhya Pradesh. She was a schoolmistress. Her husband was a doctor in a medical college. She had kept talking about him all through the journey. Her husband was not in favour of eating more than one roti. If one overate, he would insist, one became fat. And fat was bad for health, he would explain. He paid a lot of attention to exercise, but when it came to reading, he was a bookworm. He used to stay up until late in the night to read, and the schoolmistress’s sleep was disturbed whenever he turned the pages. Sometimes he would study in

the kitchen for fear of upsetting her. She had said that she was visiting her parents, and was now returning to her own place. Upon this, Pooja had asked her about her children. ‘Oh, no, no. I do not have any kids,’ the schoolmistress had shot back. ‘To tell you the truth I do not like babies at all, they mess up the household, shit and pee , I can’t manage all that!’ Pooja had expressed surprise. She had met many types of women in her life. But that any woman would not want to have babies just because they might make a mess or defecate, was beyond her. She concluded that the woman was fibbing. She could not have babies, so she had taken recourse to lying. So what, if she didn’t have babies? Everyone had some shortcoming or the other. The lady had treated Pooja and Upamanyu to some snacks she had brought from home, and coffee from the pantry. Pooja too had reciprocated her gesture by offering the lady some sweets and soft drinks. “My father was worried when he came to see me off, how I would be able to travel all alone. I told him, ‘Don’t you worry. One made the best of friends on trains.” Pooja had kept chatting with her for most of the time, falling silent only when she could not help admiring the Sundargarh forests. But who knew how the return journey would be like?

Suddenly the train moved, like someone lazily waking up from a slumber. Though Upamanyu had asked her not to panic, Pooja got a little worried. Since she hadn’t had time enough to assess the integrity of fellow-passengers, she couldn’t leave her seat. Soon, however, Upamanyu appeared, and Pooja asked him why he had delayed so much. “Why, you thought the train will leave me behind?” Upamanyu joked. Pooja said, “You have the habit of getting on to the train in the last minute. It is no longer as of old. You are getting on.” “Is it not very hot?” asked Upamanyu. “Why don’t you lift our berth?” Pooja said. Upamanyu removed his shoes, and climbed on to the lower berth, lifted the middle one, and fastened it to the hooks. Pooja said, “Now it is a little more comfortable. Isn’t it?” “Yes.” Pooja had kept the two books on the seat. She asked, “Which one will you read?”

“Any of the two will do,” replied Upamanyu. Taking out his reading glasses from his pocket, he turned the pages of The Purple Sea. Pooja picked up the other book and sat near the window. Since the light was inadequate she switched on the light and said, “These days I cannot see clearly.” “You too need your reading glasses.” After this the couple were immersed in their respective worlds. It was difficult for Pooja to concentrate on the book, what with constant movement of the railway staff, the pantry men, and the rumbling of the train. After a while, Upamanyu offered her a packet of cigarettes. She was surprised but then thought perhaps he was up to some trick, and took the packet from him. She noticed some scribbling on it. It was Upamanyu’s: “Observe the two women in front of you.” Giving the packet back, she gave Upamanyu a quizzical look. But he did not respond. Then she observed the two women. Both of were beautiful; but one of them appeared somewhat rough. Pooja thought that if she had

been wrapped around in a sari, and wore a little shyness on her face, she would be the dream of any man. But she wore such a roughness on her face that it banished any trace of softness it may have had. On the other hand, the other ‘woman’ brimmed with such softness that with a little jerk it threatened to spill like cream. Pooja remembered that when the two boarded the train first, the plump ‘woman’ had moist eyes, and the ‘girl’ in jeans asked her, “Come on, now. What is it?” and gently stroked her cheeks. Pooja assumed that she was one of those who always cried while parting from their near and dear ones. But, then the ‘girl’ with jeans asked her in the same roughness of voice that Pooja associated with the grating of two hard stones. If indeed they were mother and daughter, they must be of opposite nature. Now Pooja was almost certain that they were not mother and daughter. The ‘girl’ in jeans asked her partner, “How about some mango?” The plump ‘woman’ looked shyly and smiled. She had a lovely smile. Meanwhile the ‘girl’ had taken out some mangoes from the airbag, and cut them into slices and offered a few to her partner. In her turn, the ‘woman’ scooped some juice out of the mango and offered it to the ‘girl’. Visibly happy the latter patted the woman gently

and affectionately on her cheeks. After treating each other to the mango, they ate some snacks out of a box. After reading Upamanyu’s message on the cigarette packet Pooja had not read a line of the book that she held in her hands. She put the book away. Soon she began thinking about her home. When she returned an empty house would greet her. She had had a busy life. Earlier, she used to wonder why God had not made the days twenty-six hours each! One would then have been able to look after oneself. But, now that she had all the time in the world, the vacant house was constantly haunting her. Earlier she used to sleep like a log, unconscious of bodily existence. The nights were too brief for adequate sleep. Now the nights were interminable. She would wake up at three in the morning. She would not know why, but looking at the two women, she thought that her life had slipped by imperceptibly. But what sort of life had she expected to live? Did she want a life like this one? What blueprint of her life did she have? Part clear, part hazy? Absurd? That which could not be explained in word? Perhaps she had thought of only happiness without a trace of sadness. She closed her eyes and thought hard. No, she could not recall any thing. Maybe a man full of love in her life would be circling her life like a bumblebee. Like every other girl, her

must have been no less or more, must have been Upamanyu would explain to her how she had got everything she had asked of life. Pooja would also agree with him. She had Upamanyu, she had her children, a house to live in, a job, a car, a plot of land. But she could not recall Upamanyu and she having ever fed each other any juicy mango! Perhaps much had eluded her in her life. Presently, Upamanyu took out a scrap of paper from his pocket scribbled something on it and handed it over to her: “Did you observe the two? What do you make of them?” Pooja looked at him with the same quizzical eyes as before. Upamanyu closed the book and kept it away, and said, “It would be nice if we could have some tea.” He strolled out. Pooja sat leaning on the pillow. Soon the two got ready for a siesta. It was 2:30 in the afternoon. Pooja and Upamanyu had had rice for lunch and Pooja was feeling lazy. The ‘girl’ in jeans pulled the curtains hanging down from the upper berth and converted their part of the compartment into a tiny little room. They were undisturbed by their fellow passengers’ movements beyond the curtains. She even drew the window curtains and made the space semi-dark. She switched off the reading lamps, not even bothering to ask Pooja if she wanted to read on. Though they had

two bed-rolls, she spread only one bed sheet; they used another one to cover themselves with the white bed linen from head to foot. Pooja had thought the berth would be too narrow for the plump ‘woman’ alone but now both lay there snugly entwined. The ‘girl’ in jeans pressed the ‘woman’s cheeks and said, “Now, you have got every thing what else do you need?” As the fat ‘woman’ blushed profusely her face turned red. Whenever she smiled her face threatened to melt like wax. The ‘girl’ in jeans kissed her partner’s red face. The whole scene reminded Pooja of how Radha was stricken and prostrated by the witty arrows shot by her sakhi Lalita, such was the overwhelming nature of her abashment at those. Their amorous play reminded Pooja of Radha and Lalita’s love-frolic in the kunjaban. Upamanyu entered brushing the curtains aside and said, “No tea till 4 in the afternoon. The pantry is closed”. Noticing the darkness around, he asked Pooja: “Are you planning to sleep? I am going up then.” Pooja, of course, was not feeling sleepy. As the two partners in front of her kept muttering below the bedsheet, Pooja remembered how she had walked the lawns of Rajghat clasping

Upamanyu’s hands. How long had it been since they last walked holding each other’s hands? They no longer shared one existence. Now the day would begin when they would hear the alarm ring at five in the morning and end at eleven in the night when they slept turning away from the clock. Work, work, more work. Wherefrom does so much work generate? Work for the son, work for the daughter and work for Upamanyu, and no time for oneself. Such had been her life. Scenes of her mundane life whirled past her consciousness. Standing in front of the wardrobe, when she would select a particular sari, she would then find a matching blouse which was all crumpled, or vice versa. She would wait for a good Sunday bath; but even on those Sundays, she would come out of the bath in a hurry. While plucking flowers for her morning prayers, she would begin chanting, much before the actual worship began. By the time the idols received their respective offerings, the relevant mantra would be over. Pooja would call from there, “Listen, I am getting late. If you want any breakfast, come to the table at once.”

Upamanyu would be either shaving or reading the morning papers then. Pooja would then butter her toast and start eating, when still on her feet. She too would be getting late. All this and much more of such routine life: twenty years of her married life had whirled past. When could she have enjoyed her life? When the kids were small, she was sandwiched between the two. When they grew up, she felt too shy to close the bedroom door. When the son and daughter left home for their professional studies, the house was desolate. When Pooja saw these two women in the train, and their love, she wished she had their leisure in her own life. Pooja noticed that the two women, locked in an embrace, were fast asleep. They looked like two flowers in a single stalk. No they could not have been mother and daughter. Though one was fat and the other slim, and one was in jeans the other in salwar and kameez, they belonged to the same age group. Their face looked equally mature. Pooja stood up, switched on the light, and flipped through the pages of The Purple Sea. She could not read a thing. What was the use of such a dim light? She put the book away, and went to the loo. Since she was in the air-conditioned coach, the air outside felt

warm. The door of the pantry car was now open, and someone carrying a tray asked her if she needed some tea. Pooja gave him the seat number and returned to her seat. The man came with the tea after some time. A flask and a cup. Pooja told the man that they were a couple and would thus need two cups of tea. To this the man said that she should have asked for a “family tray”. “Why? Is there only one cup of tea in the flask?” she asked him. “No three,” said the man on his way out. Meanwhile, the jeans clad ‘girl’ had awoken. She said, removing the bedsheet from her face, “Get her two cups.” As Pooja waited, the two women were heard muttering beneath the sheet. Pooja stood up and, reaching up to Upamanyu, tried to wake him up. He came down and said, “Shall be back in a minute,” and went off to the loo. The two women stretched their limbs. It was obvious to Pooja that the plump ‘woman’ was trying to tie up the strings of her salwar and the other one was buttoning up her shirt. They exchanged glances and smiles and sat up. Soon Upamanyu returned. The pantry car fellow came back with an extra cup of tea for Pooja, and two cups of tea for the two women. Pooja and Upamanyu sipped their tea, and the two women took out some sliced bread with cheese spread and started eating. Then they

took out two big apples and started munching on them. The ‘girl’ in jeans then took out some more eatables and fed the plump ‘woman’. Pooja enjoyed looking at the two eating the way they did. The ‘girl’ in jeans tried to play a music cassette on her Walkman, which did not seem to work. She told her partner, “What have you done to this?” and gave the Walkman a few taps after which it seemed to work fine. The two covered up their bodies up to the neck; the tea cups in hand and listened to some music. The ‘girl’ in jeans sang a romantic song from a Hindi movie. Her voice was hoarse, she had no sense of rhythm, and Pooja found it very irritating. “I could not read the newspaper today”, said Upamanyu. “Why, you went to the platform. Didn’t you get one?” “Not that I did not read it but is that what you call a newspaper?” Upamanyu replied. Pooja knew what an avid reader of the local newspaper Upamanyu was. “Oh! I overslept! What station is this?”

“No idea”, replied Pooja. Pooja had stretched out on her lower berth and Upamanyu was now seated near her feet. As he ran his hand on her feet, he pressed it slightly. Pooja withdrew her feet quickly and told Upamanyu reprimanding, “What on earth are you up to? What will people think?” As the two women continued to be glued to the Walkman, they had in the meantime got entangled again. The ‘girl’ in the jeans ran her hand on her partner’s cheeks and said, “Komal, yes you really are Komal.” “You ought to have been called Komal.” She said as she squeezed her cheeks. “No, my name is Pinkie,” she said, smiling coyly. “Is it not the same thing?” She got an affectionate smack on her face. Around nine in the evening, Upamanyu and Pooja had their dinner from the pantry and turned in. Early in the morning, Upamanyu woke Pooja up and asked her if she wanted to go to the loo. Pooja said, she did not need to. Taking advantage of the darkness Upamanyu kissed her quietly. After this, Pooja could not sleep. She remembered her children and relatives. She also recalled the few days she spent

with Upamanyu in Delhi. The first day was enjoyable for both of them. But after that they became unaware of each other. The same familiar bodies, the same limbs, hands, face, and spots. Besides, they had got tired shopping, and at last lay on the bed turning their backs to each other. By the by, the train got crowded. By eight in the morning the ‘woman’ woke up and woke her partner up too. The ‘girl’ in jeans had put on shorts for the night. As she got up, she said, “Have you asked for some tea?” Her partner shook her head to say no. “You are impossible,” said the ‘girl’, and went out. This was for the first time that the two were separated. The plump ‘woman’ went out with her toothbrush. She came back after some time and began to comb her hair. Though they had spent nearly a day together, Pooja had not exchanged a single word with them. Right from the start of the journey, Pooja had taken to the plump woman. Her large compassionate eyes, shy smile and creamsoft manners. Taking advantage of her partner’s absence, she ventured to ask her: “How far are you going?” “Rourkela.” “Is that your home, or are you going on a holiday?”

The woman kept quiet for sometime, and then said, “I am from Delhi. My sister’s husband worked in the Steel Plant of Rourkela, as a manager. Perhaps you know about the terrible accident. It was in the papers. My elder sister, her husband, their two children, my younger sister, her husband all died in the accident. Pooja’s heart missed a beat. “So many of them lost their lives?” “Yea. They were travelling in a car. A truck hit them. It was a head-on collision. Only my younger sister’s young son survived the accident. “Oh God!” Pooja gasped. “Did your younger sister too live in Rourkela?” “No, she had come on a holiday,” she said. That is why you are going to Rourkela?” “Yes. My mother, brother and my husband have already reached Rourkela.” “What will you do now?” Pooja asked innocently and fell silent. “What shall we do? We shall have all our belongings in a trunk and return.” Pooja did not ask any more questions. Tears had appeared in the woman’s

froth floatation

eyes. Just then, the girl in jeans returned. “What happened? Tell me, what happened?” “Nothing”, the woman said. Now the girl in jeans took out some eatables from the air-bag, and arranged them on a plate. They fed each other, as before. After that, they ate their apples. The girl in jeans asked her partner, “Fatso! What else do you want to eat?” The plump woman blushed. The two resumed their activities, turning on the Walkman, getting entangled, and thus became complementary to each other. Life was strange, Pooja thought. The real magician was she who knew how to live. She got up and walked away, looking for Upamanyu. She found him in the middle of queue in front of the toilet. Sarojini Sahoo Translated from Oriya by Dibyendu Ganguly rudra_18@yahoo.com

Cappuccino froth wiped in by playful tongue Eyes drink in the bartender Apron-emphasized hips Ugly coffee-chain Tshirt made resplendent by what it covered Bhendi-soft fingers tease mine Bill and change and something more slipped into my palm Aniruddh V aniruddhnatya@yahoo.co.in

str8 eye for the queer guy

I am a fag and proud of it, even if I still haven’t had the balls to come out to my parents. But that aside, I have a quasicoming out confession to make to my readers. Much that nothing shuts me up better than a butt-plug up my ass, I have from time to time found women sexually attractive. And I don’t just mean, ‘fabulous dress, or fabulous bag, or shoes or lips’. I mean sexy mouth, breast and body a perpetual curiosity about the female vagina, having never seen one in real life and a lingering desire to go down on it and worse also ‘penetrate’. I have never really had any woman make a pass at me. I have never kissed a woman, never seen one naked and can’t remember if I have ever seen a pair of breasts within an arm distance. Recently, at the World Social Forum in Nairobi, I decided to step out of the queer tent – the Q-spot and visit other stalls, spaces and learn about other breast-beating human rights issues. The more I walked I found more and more women hitting on me, young African girls aggressively following me, asking me for my name and number. One actually said ‘I hope you are not gay.’ My friend ‘KM’ later confirmed that most of them were professionals, and pretty good ones I tell you - left me panting and wanting.

For years my masturbation fantasies were very heterosexual. I was the woman lying on my back and a brawny hairy man was devouring the relentless buttons of my red blouse. Soon the fantasy turned into man=man, without the need for a heterosexual appropriation. However, just like most straight guys go through gay phases. I am a gay man who goes through heterosexual and lesbian phases - at least that’s how I like to think of it. My first female crush was Shreya. Her uncle a pediatrician had saved my life at the age of one, while I was dying of diarrhoea and dehydration my father still loves telling this story. Shreya and I were in the same school since kindergarten. My cycle rickshaw would always cross hers in the morning on the way to school. We would be in the same class but sit far apart. I knew how her hair smelt, and what she ate for lunch and blah blah. My real breakthrough with Shreya came when in class III we were both picked up as a couple (mainly because of our equal height) for an American country-dance at the annual school day (in Haryana of all the places). We met every day after school for three months for a two-hour dance class. We danced very close, I was fascinated by her.

My mother, the true reason for my homosexuality, one day went to my teacher and got me out of the dance class. “He has to attend a very important wedding in Bombay, of my grandmother’s first cousins’, daughter’s husband’s nephew’s.” And there in a feeble attempt to hold on to distant family ties, and any shameless reason for my mother to get the hell out of Haryana, I was separated from Shreya forever. I was to have two other very important female crushes, closer to puberty and more in conflict with my becoming realisation of my love for boys. The first was Dimple Nehru at St. Xaviers High School in Kandivali. I didn’t care much about Dimple at all throughout high school, until one day we were appointed head boy and head girl. I spend the entire six months choreographing the school fashion show, while Dimple attended to real school affairs. The whole school knew we were meant for each other. Dimple the femme top, and me the semi-butch bottom connected with the umbilical strap-on. Dimple happened at the same time, when I busy playing ‘rim for kiss’ with my friend ‘A’ - (read the first post). My socially constructed crush for Dimple was an important alibi for me, and also an affirmation that I always had the

ability to find a girl and settle down. However, on my last day of school, just before the final exams we had a farewell party where we all wept and cried. Everyone thought I was sad that I won’t see Dimple again. She hugged me and apologised for not feeling the same way for me. And in that true gay fashion, her rejection made her really attractive. I tossed and turned all night in bed fantasising about Dimple and me, naked in bed. My groin lost in her, passionate kisses - while I licked her faintly hairy upper lip. I was still too uncomfortable with her breast but liked the idea of holding her strong thighs. Somehow ‘A’s’ hairy asshole was still way too tempting and I soon forgot about Dimple, in my chase for a kiss from A. Soon after that I went to college, Xaviers. My first year of college was possibly my worse ever. I felt ugly, my hair were too oily, I wore red colour jeans - thinking they were cool, and had soda glasses thicker than a hard back of Shantaram. Shanti Raman was the hottest girl in our class. Recent graduate from DPS, Delhi, part of the cool elite crowd of kids who went to fancy schools, Shanti was the girl to be reckoned with. And just as a rite of passage, we all had to break our

hearts over her. I would sit with Aarti, equally ugly as me, but way cooler, and confess my attraction for Shanti. She of course told everyone else and I become the joke of a class of 200 people. From the mac kids, the gujjus, sandra-frombandras and the townie-s, I was the looser who had the audacity to have a crush on the hottest girl in college. In a twisted, fucked up manner, my crush on Shanti was not something original but once again brought on me by peer pressure. But my attraction for her was real. I created a horrible distinction between Shanti and Aarti. Shanti was too soft and tender, so I could never penetrate her and cause her all that pain - so she would be a cuddling companion in bed. On the other hand Aarti was too strong and hairy, I could totally penetrate her. My first penetration-fantasies actually began with women - the anus was too dirty to be penetrated. Truly sexist, I know - but gotta be honest! My attraction for women is deeply repressed. I fear to talk about it, at the cost of my already dwindling reputation as an over-enthu and aggressive gay activist. It is now an issue of credibility. Or as Ram would say just accept it you are bi and its ok. But, you know I am not bi, I am just a gay man who also finds women attractive.

I like the idea of a hot girl showing me attention, holding my arms, getting too close. I have also seriously considered actually having sex with a woman, go down on her, have a clit-acquaintance. I will have to be VERY drunk maybe even stoned. But ya it could work. But it has to be the right girl. And this is what happened in Kenya. I think I saw the right girl. I walked into a South African stall to listen to some activist who had been evicted out of poor housing colonies in Cape Town. While I was almost concerned and about to begin an anti-eviction march, I saw this beautiful, young girl from Cape Town who walked into the stall. I forgot everything and followed her for an hour. She had these beautiful dread locks, a gorgeous and soft olive skin, beautiful full breasts. She was wearing a short skirt and I could see her tennis legs go up to her thighs and a little more. Soon I lost her, and announced to KM and a few others that I am truly a bisexual, and my attraction to women is real. I have to find that girl. I have gotta try and make this happen now, in Nairobi. I found that same girl later sitting outside the Q-spot speaking to a South African nelly boy. I suddenly took a deep breath, extended my chest

out, felt all macho and with a deep husky voice asked her for a cigarette, followed by: ‘You know I have to tell you, you are the hottest girl I have seen in a very long time’. While I looked in her eyes, I could see the worse of me coming out. Suddenly, I imagined a suburban country life with her as my wife and kids. No need to be gay, deal with my parents - I am actually a heterosexual. Oh God I am shameless too! She smiled back. Gave me a cigarette. Thanked me. Got up. And said, ‘you know that’s really cute of you to say that, I don’t know what to say, I am a lesbian’. www.allygatorlover.blogspot.com

in the bowers of our indolence, love has a local name

There are many things that television is to be thanked for and blamed for equally fervently. One of those things is people who meet Bent and me and say: “Oh you’re so like Will and Grace.” Bent and I are, for the most part, kindly people. We cringe, but refrain from pointing out that we would really rather be Jack and Karen. Full of bite, snap and acid and yet perfectly loving. Instead of the shrill, near-heterosexual Will and Grace. It’s easier to identify with the kinky, mean, mutual adoration of Jack and Karen than with the uneasy, airbrushed wholesomeness of the lead couple. Then I wonder where’s the kink in my relationship with Bent that justifies the cringing? One evening Bent and I are at Koshy’s in Bangalore. Bent begins to laugh looking around at the table we are sitting at. “This is better than an international lgbt conference,” he exclaims. We all laugh. One gay man, a straight woman, a straight man, a lesbian woman, a bisexual woman, an F-to-M and a hijra. I don’t think I knew anyone gay till I was 19. I assumed they were out there, in the manner that Eskimos and chiropodists and people who liked strawberry ice-cream were. I was not the girl who asked Bent, “But actually…

how do men do it?” but I was not much better. Luckily, by the time Bent came into my life, I had moved past the howto stage and even past the stage of being embarrassed about being straightish. It is fortuitous because I now live in the shade of the Queer Tree. When people ask how we met, I say that he was a Christmas gift. On the first day of Christmas/my true love gave to me/ a partridge in a pear tree.

represents. On the other hand there is a Lush store at the Forum, one of the modern world’s last bowers of soft colour, indolent lotus-eater fragrances and pampered skin. I will sit here quietly while Bent figures it out. To Lush or not to Lush. To Forum or not to Forum. To shoplift or not to shoplift. In fact, we figure out most things while sitting here talking of cosmetics and handcuffs.

On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave me a lovely fruit. Ten minutes into the fish curry, we had got past the small talk and I have been in love with him ever since. Anyone who thinks this translates into a handy and personable man who you can take anywhere and who actually wants to go shopping with you… think again. Mad Bindu once accused me of using him as a decoy to never seem alone in public spaces while I check out men. Neatly and heterosexually ignoring the fact that I was being used for the same purpose by Bent. In fact, Bent does do retail therapy but it’s not necessarily a relaxing experience for those who go with him. I did not spend my formative years imbibing alternative sexualities but some osmosis must have happened at some point. I have learnt to watch as Bent’s inner demons battle it out. To go to The Forum and spend time there would be to condone all it

Sometimes I wonder about the stereotypes about gay men. Is Bent part of an international consortium of gaystereotype designers? I imagine men in Lady Bracknell-drag saying “Chins are worn high this season. Wrists are worn limp this season.” Or is he merely toeing the line of the Western gay stereotype consortium? Do the stereotypes hold true only for the urban gay man in large Indian metros? What about the gay man in Tirunelveli? What is the local equivalent of a limp wrist in Siliguri? Many an earnest and wellintentioned gay man will talk of how stifled he is by the stereotypes. Especially the stereotypes about what a gay man is supposed to look like. But Bent tells people that the stereotypes save him the trouble of outing himself. Is it just fun for Bent to act out this role? In the way that it amuses him to tell the gay boys’ Thursday night Bingo

Club that he is bi, and that it entertains him to tell straight women he wants to be reborn lesbian in his next janam and to tell muscular little lesbians with Nefertiti profiles that he feels maternally towards them. And in the way he insists on carrying heavy bags for me. Or running to the liquor store when we run out of rum at 10.45. Bent loves borrowing gender trouble. Bent may declare himself middle-aged in gay years (same as dog years), but unlike Andrew Marvell and his coy mistress, we have world enough and time while we talk of cosmetics and handcuffs. It is indeed true that we are spending most of love’s long day in Koshy’s, but that minor fact we will ignore. He may slather himself in unguents of the sea and the forest and the field, but I may continue to be not afeard of fine lines. I know that two decades from now Bent will still love me and admire me because in his aesthetics there is space for grey women and bald women and wrinkled women. He loves Demon Lover’s 60-year-old mother for her large, braless, sloping breasts as well as her killer wit in the classroom. I take our well-amused peace for granted except for the occasions when people give us the hairy eyeball. This usually happens when Bent and I are

overheard loudly discussing such commonplace topics as the differences between lesbian porn for men and lesbian porn for women or why feminism may have been the worst thing to happen to feminist heterosexuals’ sex lives. Sometimes the hairy eyeball treatment happens simply because, as Demon Lover would have it, “People sense you are strange no matter how hard you hide it.” One of Demon Lover’s few useful contributions to the world. On most days we forget to hide it. On most days we forget that the merits of porn from a purely grateful consumer’s point of view is not so cool. And

forget that one must get angry when one’s friends have arranged marriages. And forget that some people may not want to know whether Sujata Bhatt was right in the Sherdi poem about using one’s teeth during blowjobs. And forget that some people may actually prefer TS Eliot to Sujata Bhatt. So what’s wrong with Bent and me? I despair of thinking of anything. Except that he once overcame my wild objections and made me buy a printed peasant blouse which I could not return. And he lost a gift meant for a friend’s new-born and lied for three months about it. And can never return his library books. With the same talent with which he manages to lose mobile phones, he has a Maria Von Trapp-ish ability to never be pinned down to a sin. Like Durrell’s magpies, he is fascinated by shiny objects and money and money that buys shiny objects. And yet he will not abandon impoverishing jobs. Bent is less grasping than most people, but can be overcome by over-priced white leather handbags, hard-bound crime fiction and marginally under-priced volumes of Proust. Bent makes the world grossly oversubstantial in comparison. And yet he is not playing Ariel to my Caliban. The

trouble with him is that he renders everything normal and everything tolerable. In a special bubble where red velvet and blue khadi are both wonderful, the greatest demand he makes of me is an equal tolerance of the world. There are things the universe is to be blamed for and thanked for equally fervently. And one of those things is a gay best friend. On some days he may make the rest of the world seem duller but he certainly makes it more tolerable. Neither Ariel nor Caliban, Bent gives the airy nothing of unconditional love a local habitation and a name. Nisha Susan www.thechasingiamb.livejournal.com www.tehelka.com/story_main26.asp?filena me=hub170207Personal_histories.asp

76 signed on to gaydar

My friend Alok introduced me to Gaydar when I was living in Delhi around two years ago. “It’s a great website to hook up, but make sure you upload a photo or the chances of people messaging you are slim” he said, before showing me how to set up an account. I was a bit skeptical at first. The only connotation Gaydar had for me until then was the ability to spot other gay people in a crowd. I had tried chatting on websites earlier, and had never had the patience or inclination to make friends or hook up through these chats. But I was willing to try Gaydar as hooking up with gay men in Delhi had proved to be much more difficult than I had imagined. Tuesday nights at PnP was dicey, some visits were very fruitful, while others proved to be excruciatingly boring. I was not a natural conversationalist when it came to strangers, and it took me quite a while to muster the courage to strike up a conversation with the person standing next to me. I spent many anxious moments watching people on the dance floor, often waiting to see if I would initiate conversation. More often than not the conversation never happened. I was invited to a few parties, but getting around in Delhi without transport was difficult at first, and I often felt out of place amongst crowds where people seemed to know each other. So I was quite willing to give Gaydar a chance.

The first few days of setting up an account had proved to be fun -- choosing a handle, slotting myself in various categories, listing my favourite movies, sports and sexual preferences, and of course writing a few lines about myself while trying not to sound too earnest. I can’t remember the first messages I got or what they said. But I do remember being thrilled to bits. Soon I learnt that messages on Gaydar had to be direct and to the point, as most people did not pay to be on it and so did not enjoy the privilege of unlimited messages. Many of the people I met did not check Gaydar too often, and wanted to meet then and there. Many of these were people visiting Delhi on work and put up in hotel rooms. Soon, I discovered the large number of men of many nationalities visiting Delhi looking for uncomplicated sex. Some of them were here on business, others just holidaying. Some of them were employed in detective agencies; others bought silver furniture for sheikhs in Dubai. Two years ago, I met up with a friend from South Africa who I knew was gay, and thought was cute. We’d had a drink and then joined some common friends for dinner at a restaurant nearby. I was completely unaware of the “eyes” he was making at me from across the table, and so didn’t bother

offering to take him home with me when we left the restaurant. When I got back home, and logged on to Gaydar, there he was surfing for men, like me. One or two messages later, we had fixed for him to come home and spend the night at my place for some of the most fun and comfortable sex I had had in years. Of late the number of messages I get on Gaydar has come down to a trickle. I no longer spend hours before the computer with Gaydar open while I check email. I’ve moved on to more widely used websites like G4M. But a new message on Gaydar continues to send a jolt of anticipation down my spine. Yes, Gaydar is primarily about the physical appearance of people. Yes, sometimes it could be height, weight, or skin colour that people look for. Yes, it’s not about creating a sense of community, and more about individual hook ups. But there are people who ask for only “fat people”, and others who want only men above 40. Those willing to experiment with a variety of sexual practices Gaydar could make that explicit on their profiles. If you were looking for ‘friendship’ and not ‘1-on-1 sex’ that could be stated clearly as well. I did not know that Gaydar was created by Gary Frisch till I read about his death in Vikram’s posting

on the LGBT list. While I used this site I didn’t think twice about how it started, but the more I think about it now, the more I’m amazed by the utility of such a simple idea. Some of my most embarrassing sexual encounters have been with men from Gaydar, and so have some of the most intimate. Thank you Mr. Frisch, wherever you are now! Posted on the LGBT-India list (lgbt-india@yahoogroups.com)

78 twin trees

For the two very tall, very fat twin trees we offer history of a rebel ruler who planted them as saplings over three hundred years ago. For the stone slab nudged between where the trunks part we make an offering of our lazy bones our unguarded laughter, and a timely afternoon. For the flower fringed lake beyond we offer no poetry. For the black ducks that swim in it we offer this line. For the portly policeman patrolling the park we alliterate but for the lovers sitting on the park benches we reserve our ridicule. We touch the otherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s hair brush away lucky twigs caught in untutored curls talk of irreverence and political correctness we laugh, we imitate birds catcall passing strangers. And dress up our feelings in costumes for clowns. Binodini

open letter:

same-sex love in india:

open letters against section 377 by vikram seth, amartya sen, et al.

groups, leaving gay and bisexual men in India even more defenceless against HIV infection.

To the Government of India, Members of the Judiciary, and All Citizens,

Such human rights abuses would be cause for shame anywhere in the modern world, but they are especially so in India, which was founded on a vision of fundamental rights applying equally to all, without discrimination on any grounds. By presumptively treating as criminals those who love people of the same sex, Section 377 violates fundamental human rights, particularly the rights to equality and privacy that are enshrined in our Constitution as well as in the binding international laws that we have embraced, including the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights.

To build a truly democratic and plural India, we must collectively fight against laws and policies that abuse human rights and limit fundamental freedoms. This is why we, concerned Indian citizens and people of Indian origin, support the overturning of Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code, a colonial-era law dating to 1861, which punitively criminalizes romantic love and private, consensual sexual acts between adults of the same sex. In independent India, as earlier, this archaic and brutal law has served no good purpose. It has been used to systematically persecute, blackmail, arrest and terrorize sexual minorities. It has spawned public intolerance and abuse, forcing tens of millions of gay and bisexual men and women to live in fear and secrecy, at tragic cost to themselves and their families. It is especially disgraceful that Section 377 has on several recent occasions been used by homophobic officials to suppress the work of legitimate HIV-prevention

Let us always remember the indisputable truth expressed in the opening articles of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights that â&#x20AC;&#x153;All persons are born free and equal in dignity and rights. . . Everyone is entitled to all the rights and freedoms set forth in this declaration, without distinction of any kind.â&#x20AC;? We will move many steps closer to our goal of achieving a just, pluralistic and democratic society by the ending of Section 377, which is currently under challenge before the Delhi High Court.

There should be no discrimination in India on the grounds of sexual orientation. In the name of humanity and our Constitution, this cruel and discriminatory law should be struck down. Sincerely,

Vikram Seth, author;

Swami Agnivesh; Soli Sorabjee,

former Attorney-General; Aditi Desai, sociologist; Nitin Desai, former UN Under-Secretary General; Captain Lakshmi Sahgal, freedom fighter, Padma Vibhushan; Siddharth Dube, author and

Rukun Advani,

Author/Publisher MJ Akbar, Editor-in-Chief, Asian Age & Deccan Chronicle Ashok Alexander, Director, Avahan, Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation Subashni Ali, President, All India Democratic Womenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Association Arjun Appadurai, Provost and Senior Vice President for Academic Affairs, and John Dewey Professor in

the Social Sciences, The New School for Social Research Kanti Bajpai, Headmaster, The Doon School Runa Banerjee, CEO, SEWA Lucknow Kaushik Basu, Professor of Economics, Cornell University Upendra Baxi, Professor of Law, University of Warwick Pooja Bedi, actress Shyam Benegal, internationally-acclaimed film director and Member of Parliament, Rajya Sabha Amita Baviskar, Associate Professor, Institute of Economic Growth Prashant Bhushan, advocate, Supreme Court, and civil rights activist Urvashi Butalia, author, publisher and activist Uma Chakravarty, Vedic Scholar and Feminist Historian Geeta Chandran, Founder President, Natya Vriksha Purnendu Chatterjee, Chairman, Chatterjee Group Gerson Da Cunha,

Trustee, AGNI (Action for Good Governance and Networking in India) Maja Daruwala, human rights activist Nandita Das, award-winning actress and activist Veena Das, Professor, Johns Hopkins University PR Dasgupta, former secretary education and social welfare, first head of the National AIDS programme Mahesh Dattani, playwright, Sahitya Akademi Award 1998 Devika Daulet-Singh, photographer John Dayal, Member, National Integration Council, Govt of India Shobhaa De, best-selling author and columnist Astad Deboo, choreographer & dancer Armaity Desai, Former Director, Tata Inst. of Social Sciences & Former Chairman, University Grants Commission Anil Divan, Senior Advocate Darryl D’Monte, environmental journalist & author

Dilip D’Souza,

author and journalist JB D’Souza, former Maharashtra Chief Secretary and Bombay Municipal Commissioner (IAS retd) Neela D’Souza, writer Bharat Dube, Counsel, Richemont Group S.A. Barkha Dutt, Managing Editor, NDTV Mallika Dutt, Breakthrough, National Citizen’s Award 2001 Rajiv Dutta, President, Skype Rehaan Engineer, actor Naresh Fernandes, Editor, Time Out Mumbai Meenakshi Ganguly, Human Rights Watch Amitav Ghosh, author, Sahitya Akademi Award 1990 Sagarika Ghose, author, and Senior Editor, CNN-IBN Shohini Ghosh, Filmmaker and Lecturer, Jamia Millia Islamia

Anand Grover,

Times of India

Ramachandra Guha,

Playright, Actor

Human Rights Lawyer

Social Anthropologist, Historian Satish Gujral, Artist, Sculptor Ruchira Gupta, activist and Emmy-winning journalist Syeda Hameed, Member of the Planning Commission Zoya Hasan, Professor of Political Science, Jawaharlal Nehru University Tanuja Desai Hidier, author and musician Indira Jaising, Human Rights Lawyer Ashok Jethanandani, editor, India Currents Ruchir Joshi, writer Sudhir Kakar, psychoanalyst and author Mira Kamdar, author, Senior Fellow, World Policy Institute Coomi Kapoor, Indian Express Sanjay Kapoor, Vice President, Raytheon Integrated Defense Systems Bachi Karkaria, Author and Columnist,

Girish Karnad, Soha Ali Khan, actor

Zila Khan,

classical singer

Sunil Khilnani,

Director of South Asian Studies, Johns Hopkins Shanno Khurana, Classical vocalist, Padmabhushan, Fellow (Ratna Sadasya) Sangeet Natak Akademi Saleem Kidwai, Historian and Co-editor, Same-Sex Love in India Purab Kohli, Actor Amitava Kumar, writer, Professor of English, Vassar College Radha Kumar, author and professor, Jamia Millia Islamia Jhumpa Lahiri, author, Pulitzer Prize 2000 Ruby Lal, Assistant Professor of South Asian Civilizations, Emory University Rama Mani, Geneva Centre for Security Policy

Sonal Mansingh,

acclaimed danseuse and Padma Vibhushan Ajay K. Mehra, Director, Centre for Public Affairs Suketu Mehta, author, Kiriyama Prize 2005 Nivedita Menon, Department of Political Science, Delhi University Aziz Mirza, Filmmaker Saeed Mirza, Filmmaker Sophie Moochala, businesswoman Shubha Mudgal, vocalist, Padmashree Award 2000 Mira Nair, internationally acclaimed film director Ashish Nandy, political psychologist and sociologist Kuldip Nayar, author and columnist Derek Oâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;Brien, author and television quiz master Onir, film director, My Brother Nikhil Pankaj Pachauri, Senior Editor, NDTV Dileep Padgaonkar,

former Chief Editor, Times of India, member of the Minorities Commission Latika Padgaonkar, art and cine expert Amol Palekar, Filmmaker Gopika Pant, Partner, DSK Legal Gyanendra Pandey, Distinguished Professor of Arts and Sciences, Emory Unviversity Kirit Parikh, Member, Planning Commission Vibha Parthasarathi, ex-Chairperson, National Commission for Women Vibhuti Patel, journalist Pradip Prabhu, Activist, Kasthakari Sangathan Sanjay Pradhan, Director, Public Sector Governance, The World Bank Rajeswari Sunder Rajan, Global Distinguished Professor (Elect), New York University Rahul Ram, Indian Ocean band Raka Ray, Professor of South Asian Studies,

Univ of California, Berkeley Debraj Ray, Julius Silver Professor of Economics, New York University Aruna Roy, Mazdoor Kisaan Shakti Sangathan, Ramon Magsaysay Award 2000 Arundhati Roy, Activist and Author. Booker Prize 1997 Sandip Roy, Editor, New America Media and Trikone Magazine Sanjoy Roy, managing director, Teamwork Films Sarika, actress

Siddharth Dhanvant Sanghvi, author

Mallika Sarabhai, dancer

Mrinalini V. Sarabhai, dancer and choreographer, Padma Shree 1965, Padma Bhushan 1992 Rajdeep Sardesai, editor-in-chief, CNN-IBN Madhu Sarin, psychoanalyst Sumit Sarkar, social historian Tanika Sarkar, historian and Professor,

Jawaharlal Nehru University Vir Sanghvi, Anchor, Writer, and Editorial Director, Hindustan Times NC Saxena, former Secretary Planning Commission and Rural Development, and Director, LBS National Academy of Administration Aparna Sen, acclaimed director and actor Atul Setalvad, Senior Advocate Teesta Setalvad, Communalism Combat Konkona Sen Sharma, actress Malvika Singh, Publisher, Seminar Dayanita Singh, photographer Kirti Singh, Advocate and Womenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Rights Activist Seema Sirohi, columnist Sreenath Sreenivasan, Professor, Columbia Graduate School of Journalism Vidya Subrahmaniam, Deputy Editor, The Hindu Nandini Sundar, Professor,

Delhi School of Economics

Admiral (Rtd.) R.H. Tahiliani, former Chief of the Indian Navy, Governor of Sikkim, Chairman, Transparency International India

Tarun Tahiliani and Sal Tahiliani, designers

Tarun Tejpal,

editor and founder of Tehelka Dolly Thakore, theatre personality Tilottama Tharoor, Humanities Professor, New York University Laila Tyabji, Chairperson, DASTKAR Nilita Vachani, documentary-maker, Presidentâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Award 1992 Ruth Vanita, author and professor, University of Montana Siddharth Varadarajan, Deputy Editor, The Hindu B.G. Verghese, former editor of several national papers, and human rights and development activist Jafar Zaheer, Air Vice Marshal (retd, Param Vishist Seva Medal), and

Mrs Rafath Zaheer Shama Zaidi,

script writer and film maker (Listing of institutional affiliations does not imply that these organizations necessarily endorse this statement.)

Cambridge 20 August 2006 A Statement in Support of the Open Letter by Vikram Seth and Others I have read with much interest and agreement the open letter of Vikram Seth and others on the need to overturn section 377 of the Indian Penal Code. Even though I do not, as a general rule, sign joint letters, I would like, in this case, to add my voice to those of Vikram Seth and his cosignatories. The criminalization of gay behaviour goes not only against fundamental human rights, as the open letter points out, but it also works sharply against the enhancement of human freedoms in terms of which the progress of human civilization can be judged. There is a further consideration to which I would like to draw attention. Gay behaviour is, of course, much more widespread than the cases that are brought to trial. It is some times argued that this indicates that Section 377 does not do as much harm as we, the protesters, tend to think. What has to be borne in mind is that whenever any behaviour is identified as a penalizable crime, it gives the police and other law enforcement officers huge power to harass and victimize some people. The harm done by an unjust law like this can, therefore, be far larg-

er than would be indicated by cases of actual prosecution. It is surprising that independent India has not yet been able to rescind the colonial era monstrosity in the shape of Section 377, dating from 1861. That, as it happens, was the year in which the American Civil War began, which would ultimately abolish the unfreedom of slavery in America. Today, 145 years later, we surely have urgent reason to abolish in India, with our commitment to democracy and human rights, the unfreedom of arbitrary and unjust criminalization. Amartya Sen

a protest and a carnival

On a cloudy Sunday afternoon, the normally serene ground at the National College broke into a riot of color and festivity. Bangalore, known by a multitude of epithets such as the “Garden City” and “Silicon Valley of India” added another feather to its cap by organizing its first and the largest ever pride march in India. The Bengaluru Pride, as its organisers christened it, was supported by eleven organisations that worked for the rights of sexual minorities, sexworkers, and people living with HIV/AIDS. It was a historic moment for the city’s queer residents as hundreds of gays, lesbians, bisexual, transgenders and straight allies took to the streets to call for an end to discrimination and push for acceptance in a society where intolerance is widespread. The two hour rally four km flagged off from a conservative Brahmin populated suburb and culminated at the Town Hall to the beats of drums, blaring music and a fervent dancing by 700 activists. bangalore: coming out of the closet

Amongst the 700 odd people who descended on the event, the prevalent mood was one of confidence and elation. For many it was an opportunity to come out and embrace their identity.” In this heteronormative society, it’s very difficult to come to terms with

a sexual identity that does not conform with the mainstream’s perception. Being here today has helped me open up and fully accept who I am”, said Rajiv, a 19-year old student. However the fear of discrimination and social ostracization, compelled many of the marchers to wear masks to conceal their identity. the many voices of the pride

While the chief demand at the pride was abrogation of Sec 377 of the Indian Penal Code that criminalises homosexuality, other issues such as voting rights for sexual minorities, legalization of gender change operations and end to police harassment were also highlighted. Said Rex Wats, director of Sangama, an organization that works with sexual minorities in Bangalore “We are here to educate the public on the diversity of sexuality and gender and the various issues that echo this diversity”. For women like Gayatri, the pride march was a protest against the sexual repression of women. Holding aloft a placard that said,”Stop lesbian suicides”, she added,”For many years, lesbian women have had to endure the institution of heterosexual marriage forced upon them, it’s time we stood up to reclaim our rights”. For others like Meena, a transsexual, it was about the fundamental right to be treated with dignity. “Police brutality against

us has only increased over the years. These days we get harassed even for just standing on the streets”, she lamented. For many the pride march was an opportunity to announce themselves in public. “I want people to see the face of the LGBT community in India. For LGBT rights to progress in this country, we need to be visible to the larger mainstream and engage in dialogue with them”, said Manish , a gay man at the march. A group of straight people who turned up to support a gay friend said that as responsible citizens they felt a need to be there. “This transcends just the issues of gender and sexuality, it’s a question of civil liberty As citizens of a democracy, we all deserve the right to love and live with who we want ”, they commented. not just a march; it was a carnival

For all its serious objectives, event took on a festive air and the crowd was boisterous. Lead by a great Dane and an adorable baby holding a rainbow pennant, the crowd worked itself to a frenzy to the accompaniment of drums, loudspeakers and thamptes (local acoustic instruments). The spectacle was made even more colorful by the multi-hued masks, rainbow umbrellas and colorful hand painted T-shirts sporting witty lines such as “I

am the Pink Sheep of my family”. Greg, a tourist from Minnesota commented, “Except for the absence of go go boys, corporate floats and dykes riding motor cycles, this could pass for a pride event anywhere in Europe or America. The atmosphere is so electric and the energy feels so real”. Ekta who works with Masrah, a theatre group who designed the hats, ribbons, placards and other creative paraphernalia for the pride felt the colors and the placards echoed the truly diverse and inclusive nature of the crowd gathered at the event. “We tried to bring out the various emotions of the participants through the colors; some angry eyes, some ecstatic, happy and proud, some quiet and subtle, some keen and eager; It was an overwhelming experience!”, she said. The march drew several stares; curious onlookers were provided flyers with the history of the Pride Parade as well as the Bengaluru Pride’s demands. Surprisingly, many seemed either in favour or not in the least curious about the march. Even the large police contingent who were present to provide security cover for the marchers were supportive and accommodating as the march wound its way through commercial areas with heavy vehicular traffic.

89 a day to remember

The parade culminated at steps of the historic Town Hall, where several queer rights activists addressed the charged up audience. “We will not rest till we get rid of Section 377 of IPC, which is a colonial legacy,” Arvind Narrain from the Alternate Law Forum told the gathering. Manohar from Sangama reiterated Arvind’s stance asserting, “Though the home ministry opposed our demand, the health ministry is supportive for repealing the discriminating Section 377. We will go to the Supreme Court if we don’t get justice in the lower court,”. Rajnish, a scientist and LGBT activists asked the crowd to take a moment to remember the many lesbians in the country who committed suicide in the past year. As the evening drew to a close, many same-sex couples kissed under the fluttering lotus flag of the right wing BJP state government in open proclamation of their love. When the looming rain clouds finally cracked and a gentle rain washed the revelers, one couldn’t help believe that this day would be a great start to the future of queer activism in India. Karthik Varatharaj karthikvraj@yahoo.co.in This piece was published in Trikone’s 2006 Monsoon Issue

377 final hearings There was a buzz around the Chief Justice’s Court in the Delhi High Court. The excitement in the air was palpable. More than seven years after the law that criminalises homosexuality in India was challenged by Naz Foundation, the case had finally come up for the final hearings. The proceedings soon began. Chief Justice A. P. Shah and Justice S. Muralidhar heard detailed arguments from Anand Grover, the lawyer representing Naz. The main ‘prayer’ or relief that Naz was asking for was that Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code which criminalized all ‘unnatural’ sexual activity should be ‘read down’ to exclude consenting sexual acts between adults. I looked around the courtroom to see familiar faces all around me. Some of them were in black and white, assisting the senior lawyers who were arguing. Others had come to show their solidarity and to observe the culmination of along and arduous struggle for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgendered (LGBT) activists in this country. Grover began by stressing that the petitioners were asking for a ‘reading down’ of the law and not its repeal in entirety. This was because repealing the law would lead to a situation

where there was a lacuna in existing laws when it came to cases of non consensual sex , specifically cases of child sexual abuse. The government had put forward two main arguments in its affidavit - the law should be retained in order to protect public health and to protect morality. The public health argument was turned on its head, with Grover pointing out that the National AIDS Control Organisation, a department of the Union Ministry of Health had clearly said that section 377 serves acts a as a barrier preventing Men who have sex with Men (MSM) communities from accessing condoms and information about safe sex practices. However, the court said that it needed to be convinced on the point about public morality. Justice Muralidhar said that legitimate aim had to be seen in the context of our Constitution and that the government could argue that it was taking measures in the interests of morality and decency. Grover replied that we live in a democratic set up where the rights of minorities needed to be protected, and the state needed to show what the legitimate aim of the law was to enter the zone of privacy. Justice Muralidhar then pointed out that this argument would not be applicable to child pornogra-

phy. Chief Justice Shah added, “ To say that public morality cannot be a source of criminal law is not correct. What about cases of child sexual abuse?” He said that ‘decency’ and ‘morality’ could be legitimate aims that can be used to enact criminal law even in the ‘private zone’. Grover then cited from the NCGLE(National Coalition for Gay and Lesbian Equality) decision where the court struck down the antisodomy law in South Africa, to point out that while the state is founded on a deep political morality, this does not mean that it can criminalise homosexual conduct. One of the arguments that was put forward was that the effect of the law could not be judged merely by the number of prosecutions under the law, as the effect of the law reaches far wider than actual convictions, and leads to stigma and discrimination of LGBT persons. Both the judges seemed to agree with this proposition. Said Chief Justice Shah, “‘In Bombay I dealt with a ragging case where a homosexual boy was ragged by his classmates. As a result, he was hospitalized just before his exams. He came to us asking for a chance to do his exams again. We have seen what could happen to homosexuals”. He also added that homosexuality was “by nature, and not by choice”

Grover also argued that criminalizing homosexuality was a violation of the right to dignity that has been read into the right to life guaranteed in the Indian Constitution. The judges seemed visibly moved by the text of the South African Constitutional court in the NCGLE judgement, where the Justice Sachs talks about the how the antisodomy law leads to anti-gay prejudice which impinges on the right to dignity of the gay community. Significantly, Chief Justice Shah and Justice Muralidhar compared discrimination based on sexual orientaion to caste-based discrimination. “If you belong to the ‘untouchable’ category, you suffer a disadvantage in every aspect of life. The effect of criminalization (of homosexuality) is like treating you as a member of a scheduled caste”, said Chief Justice Shah. At the end of the two days the Court reprimanded the Additional Solicitor General P.P. Malhotra for seeking more time and said that the government had to inform the court of its stand in four days. The Court resumes the hearings on September 25th, when it will hear arguments from Shyam Diwan, representing Voices Against 377, a coalition of human rights groups that has intervened in the case. After this, the Court will hear the government

and the other intervenors Joint Action Council (Kannur) and B. P. Singhal, both of whom are arguing for the law to be retained as it is. Siddharth Narrain sid@altlawforum.org This piece was published in the Sexualities Page of the Zeitgest supplement in the New Indian Express on September 27, 2008.

update on the

377 hearings

In a week full of drama, a two-judge Bench of the Delhi High Court continued to hear arguments in the Naz Foundation case, in which the petitioners have asked for the ‘reading down’ of section 377 of the Indian Penal Code, to exclude acts of consensual sex between adults from its purview. This case will decide if millions of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgendered (LGBT) persons will continue to be criminalized under an archaic law that was enacted by the British. Shyam Divan, senior counsel arguing for Voices Against 377, a coalition of human rights, women’s rights and child rights groups, argued this provision subjected LGBT persons to repressive, cruel and disparaging treatment that destroyed their sense of self esteem, inflicted grave physical and psychological harm on members of the LGBT community, inhibited the personal growth of these persons and prevented them from attaining fulfillment in personal, professional, economic and other spheres of life. Divan used records of incidents from across the country, as well as personal affidavits, reports and orders, to demonstrate that the continuance of section 377 on the statute book operated to brutalise a vulnerable, minority segment of citizens for no fault of theirs.

The Additional Solicitor General P.P. Malhotra representing the Central Government made it clear that the government was opposed to the reading down of section 377. He said that sexual offences under 377 constituted an “altogether different crime that are the result of a “perverse mind”. Contradicting Union Health Minister Anbumani Ramadoss’s stand on this issue, as well as the National AIDS Control Organisation’s affidavit, Malhotra argued that the reading down of section 377 would increase the chances of HIV/AIDS prevention by encouraging homosexuality. Siddharth Narrain sid@altlawforum.org This piece appeared in the New Indian Express Zeitgest Supplement in the Sexualities page on October 4th, 2008.

94 happy together

I am 30 years old, a queer man who teaches in a women’s college in Bangalore. With the Union Health Minister Anbumani Ramadoss and NACO both arguing that Section 377, the law that criminalises homosexuality, should be done away with, it seems like we ought to be looking at the present as a historic moment in the lives of gay and lesbian people in India. The euphoria in the sexuality movement and the dayto-day wartime reporting of proceedings in the Delhi High Court certainly lends itself to momentous events. But I am also uncomfortably aware that in the decade since I first met another gay man, a more complicated and colourful revolution has been underway without courtroom drama.

this assumption.)

I was already wading through a series of sexual and romantic relationships before I read anew, at age 14, the word ‘homosexual’. I felt a ripple of identification. In the stodgy marriage manual that I read it in, it only meant a sexual act. It was later, in the mid-1990s, that the word ‘gay’ would suddenly illuminate for me why my schoolboy relationships never transformed into the forever of romantic love: because the other in each instance was never really gay. (I would have to wait till 2001, when an encounter with one of the most enduring figures of the sexuality movement in India would challenge

The first sense of gay politics being somewhere closer home than the magazines I read at the British Council Library came in 1997, when the National Seminar on Gay Rights was organised by students of the National Law School, Bangalore. It received much media coverage. More importantly, I knew one of the participants was Ashok Row Kavi, an openly gay man giving a face to abstractions.

There was a random trickle of information that I look back at and think of as imperceptibly forming my own ideas of who I am and could be. The news reports of Leela and Urmila, two policewomen in Bhopal who got married in 1987. A photograph of 26-yearold Ashwini Sukthankar (the editor of Facing the Mirror — Lesbian Writing from India) holding a poster that read “Lesbian and Indian” with ‘lesbian’ written in saffron and ‘Indian’ in green exemplified for me the moment of a particular political visibility generated in response to Shiv Sena attacks on cinema halls screening Deepa Mehta’s Fire, in 1996.

I was actually 20 when I met my first gay man. Until then I, the son of two government- employed accountants, had assumed I was the only self-con-

fessed gay in the village. My relationships continued to resemble the hideand-seek routines with boys in the Public Library that I had had in Class X — sometimes romantic, sometimes erotic and sometimes plain silly. Abhishek was around my age. Outside of work, Abhishek’s entire social circle was gay. He already had the lifestyle that is much easier for young gay men in Indian metros to have now. V, for instance, a 19-year-old I know, probably has conversations with straight people only when he steps out to buy groceries. Perhaps. At work, as a stylist, he can assume that everyone he meets is queer. But the evening that Abhishek took me to Good As You, a tea party that masquerades as a support group, I felt another ripple of identification. There were around 20 men in that neat, small room. Artists, activists, IT sector men — many, like me, slightly effeminate. One boy, a medical student, dressed punk. The meeting went on, minutes were taken. What was more important for me came afterwards, when we all trotted to a couple’s home. To me, and to others in the group, their existence, as a couple who kept house together and went on to do so for eight years, was important. Their house was a place to go to and a place

where many parties took place. Obviously, parties were more important spaces for homosexual and bisexual men (and women to a lesser extent) than the well-intentioned support group meetings that mushroomed across India in the 1990s. These communities grew to tackle, in myriad ways, hitherto condoned persecution of same-sex love and sexual acts. Having regular support group meetings and counseling help-lines, building libraries, bringing out newsletters were some of the primary activities of such groups. If they were lucky, these were also places to hook-up and have sex. One of the earliest politically identified groups was the Delhi Group, a group of lesbian feminists. (Lesbian groups in India have always been more radical and political, coming as they did from the women’s movement. Today, lesbian groups continue to actively organise interven tions to deal with shame, immediate family crises, and create shelters for lesbians. Instead of pride marches once a year, Kolkata’s Sappho continuously engages with the public year-round. It was through the lesbian and women’s groups that the gay movement joined the larger network of social movements.) But parties organised, both at homes

and at select discos, built for us a sense of being a significant population. This was where you went to meet new gay men and women; where I went to dance; where you watched fascinated as someone dancing lifted that eyebrow to practiced perfection at that precise point in Kajra Re; where I learnt to deal with bad body image; where sometimes body image didn’t matter when you were held like you would never be left alone. Parties are where I always have a niggling suspicion that gay identities are built on sexual gossip and not sexual orientation. With a deep sense of being born at the wrong place at the wrong time, I love to listen to stories from older homosexuals who, with a nostalgic glaze and a playful lilt, speak of parties in the 1980s and early 1990s as allowing for a lot more sexual expression than the more regulated parties held in metros today. The strict ‘No Drag, No Sex’ policies of some of these parties, which also include self-policing of all toilets, seems like a clean-up act in preparation for the imminent entry into legal acceptance with the reading down of 377. It is where I am also increasingly convinced that the reading down will only provide an increased sense of security to the urban gay man, certainly not to the hijra who has always been, in that sense, ‘out’.

The post-internet generation of urban men and women who quote from Will&Grace, download and share episodes of Queer as Folk, Six Feet Under or The L Word, and read any number of news articles speculating on the sexual positions of Shah Rukh Khan, Karan Johar or, more recently, Arjun Rampal, are surer than before of how to negotiate, or even ignore, the straight world out there. The tragic gay who identified with the exiledfrom-love figures of Meena Kumari and Rekha is well on his way out and occupies a retro-voguish status at best. (It is mildly entertaining to be the only person who remembers Anil Kapoor, at the height of his fame, having to fight off accusations in Stardust about his sexual orientation). Simultaneously, straight people find it easier to deal with us. Not that Will&Grace was the primer that gave them the clues to spot us. They always had the clues, but now they can assume that talking about them to us is not going to shame or anger us. Just a decade ago, it was great fun to watch students trying to deal with Hoshang Merchant. I was at Hyderabad Central University, where Hoshang teaches English. He was 50-odd years old, had edited Yaarana, an anthology of gay writing, and was highly camp. To many straight students, it was like be-

ing flung into a dark swimming pool and told to swim. Later, I would associate him with Quentin Crisp’s line about being not just a self-confessed homosexual but also a self-evident homosexual. I identified with his tragic queen figure, his love for Anaïs Nin and HD. It made it easier for me to be a queer man on campus. After University, I joined Sangama, a lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender (LGBT) support group that had become an NGO. I travelled to other cities and went to conferences. I met Famila, a striking young hijra sex-worker, at a conference in Ooty organised in 2001 by the Churches of South India. I believe it was one of the first such efforts to integrate LGBT issues into liberation theology. Famila died in 2004 and everyone would remember their first meeting with her; everyone would recall that she transformed their ideas of sexual politics. That first time, I remember her as sexy and quiet. Over the years, in conversation with her, I realised the gay / straight framework was just one way of organising our sexcapades, romantic or otherwise. The various ways in which we fashioned ourselves constantly as gay or straight, but spoke about it as if it was innate became suddenly more visible. Generous and articulate, she was the first person

to raise hijra ideas of sex, desire and community to the level of knowledge, not dismiss it as experience. Through this perspective, the annual Koovagam festival in Tamil Nadu took on a different meaning. These conversations make it difficult for me to be reconciled to the gay identities being forged in India today, patterned after a Western trajectory. Among the dozens of LGBT groups and NGOs in the country in the late 1990s, there was once conflict about identity. Some wanted traditional identities such as khoti and panthi to be subsumed under the ‘gay’ umbrella and others argued exclusively for traditional identities. Traditional identities have won out because that is where the funding is. Almost nobody will consider the idea that, even a decade ago, a non-English speaking khoti would think of what he did as only the way in which he loved. Not something innate. But now, with the all-organising HIV-AIDS discourse and the reformist agenda of the urban English-speaking queer person, it is almost impossible to find a khoti who does not know that it is unsophisticated to not identify yourself. To not sit in support group meetings, pass the Marie biscuits and name yourself, “Gay, khoti, panthi.” It is easy to slip into the familiar narratives of gay people as invisible, those

with a voice, those without. You find yourself organising experiences into these narratives. I could tell you that I once found it easy to go to Cubbon Park and meet crowds of gay people just behind High Court. You chose to join groups, to pick up or be picked up. Over the last decade, arrests have happened in Cubbon Park with greater and lesser frequency. And now the entire stretch is marked by floodlights so you must run where it’s dark, hoping not to bump into cops. But I could also choose to remember that my friends, who say they miss cruising and rue online cruising, will not go out with people who have not uploaded photos.

ance of gay marriage will come later, faithfully following the Western trajectory, we could see what is around us. In the 1970s, Shankuntala Devi (yes, the mathematical genius) wrote a treatise on homosexuality in which she interviewed a priest who spoke of Hindu marriage being between two souls, not two bodies. In 1987, when Leela and Urmila were married, their priest used the same words as justification.

I could choose to remember a young Catholic lesbian couple in Bangalore who thought it important to talk to their youth group and their priests in the same week they told their parents that they were in love and, over a year, found at least partial acceptance. Another lesbian couple in Kerala moved court and got legal sanction to live as a couple. People like them force us to notice what is culturally sanctioned.

Though most of us were happy to read about Wendell Rodericks’ wedding, one wished people knew that gay and lesbian marriages, with some ritual, happen around us all the time. Nandu’s and Sheela’s, in Kerala, for instance, was one of the more public ones, in 2004. Why aren’t we organising mass marriages as the Self-Respect movement once organised inter-caste marriages in Tamil Nadu’s cinema halls? The social hostility attendant would be only the same hostility that any intercaste, inter-race or intergenerational marriage faces in India or the West. As would any union that privileges erotic love over social suitability.

I agree with the people who argue that our movement should perhaps not have focussed on 377 (given Indians’ complicated relationship with the law). We should have focussed on marriage instead. Rather than assume that accept-

My friend remarked that a young gay couple whom we think of as the most devoted in existence, are living a double life, as neither are out to their parents. I would argue that the phrase double life is not particularly useful because

the hostility the young gay couple face is hardly different from that faced by heterosexual couples arrested in parks in Bihar. If I were much ruder, I would quote Akshay Khanna. Not the actor, Akshay is an important and serious activist, someone just as capable of kissing a woman while wearing a skirt, as kissing a man in a public meeting. To annoying people who ask him whether he is out to his parents, he would respond, â&#x20AC;&#x153;I wish heterosexuals in India would come out to their parents.â&#x20AC;? Nithin Manayath From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 5, Issue 41, Dated Oct 18, 2008.

100 groups

organizations working on sexuality issues andhra pradesh

SAATHI

H.No. 1-1-652/B/3, Second Floor, Gandhi Nagar Main Road, Hyderabad 500080, A.P. 040 2767 4757 saathii@yahoo.com www.saathii.org

Mithrudu

3-6-131/6/1, St. No. 18, First Floor, St. Mary Junior College Lane, Himayath Nagar, Hyderabad 500 029 +91 402 326 2300 gpk_mithrudu@yahoo.com mithrudu@yahoo.com

Jyoti Welfare Society

76-11-4 Kolla Faram Road Near Bank Centre Bhavanipuram Vijayawada - 520 012 +91 (0) 866 2425 5401, 2417838 +91 (0) 866 556 6402 (FAX) +91 (0) 98481 110004 jyothiwelfare49@hotmail.com

Sahara Welfare Trust

29-44-49 Chakali Street Daba Gardens Vishakapatnam - 530 020 0984 934 0073 rajuram27@yahoo.com sahara_trust@yahoo.com

Saathi/Sampark

2nd Floor, Sana Apartments, Red Hills, Lakdikapool, Hyderabad - 500 004 Email: saathi99@yahoo.com Tel: 657 1225/337 5401

Jyoti Welfare Society

76-11-4 Kolla Faram Road Near Bank Centre Bhavanipuram Vijayawada - 520 012 +91 (0) 866 2425 5401, 2417838 +91 (0) 866 556 6402 (FAX) +91 (0) 98481 110004 jyothiwelfare49@hotmail.com

karnataka

Alternative Law Forum (ALF) 122/4, Infantry Road, (Opp. Infantry Wedding House) Bangalore 560 001 Tel: 286 8757 contact@altlawforum.org www.altlawforum.org

Lawyers Collective (Bangalore) 1st Floor, No. 4A, MAH Road, Off Park Road, Tasker Town, Shivajinagar, Bangalore 560051. (O)080-41239130/1 (F)080-41239289 aidslaw2@lawyerscollective.org

Good As You

An informal support group for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and other non-heterosexually identified people. Meets on Thursdays from 7PM to 9.00PM goodasyoublr@googlemail.com

Lesbit

This project fights for the advancement of the human rights of lesbian/bisexual women/FtMs, and other women who love women. 080 23439124

Prerana

Informal support group for lesbians and bisexual women. Meetings are held on the first and third Sunday of each month. 080 223 0959, Tuesdays & Friday, 7-9 PM sahayabangalore@hotmail.com

Sahaya Helpline (a project of Swabhava)

Open Tuesday & Friday 7-9 PM Tel: 223 0959 sahayabangalore@hotmail.com www.swabhava.org/sahaya.htm

Swabhava

No. 54 Nanjappa Road, Shantinagar, Bangalore - 560 027 swabhava_trust@hotmail.com www.swabhava.org

SAMARA

#9, Patil Cheluvappa Street Post J.C. Nagar Bangalore 560006

Sadhane

#9, Patil Cheluvappa Street Post J.C. Nagar Bangalore 560006

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102

Samraksha

#11, Srinivasan Bull Temple ‘A’ Cross Road, Chamrajpet Bangalore- 560018 080-26604563/ 51285294 si@samraksha.org, satish@samraksha.org

Samuha Samraksha

H. No. 1-11-55-138/4 Plot No. 4 Gulbarga Builders Layout Raichur: 584101 08532-220402 Email: bherimr2004@yahoo.com, Namjeeva_raichur@yahoo.co.in

Samuha Samraksha

Sankirana Building ‘A’ Block, 10th Cross Basaveshwar Nagar Haveri 581110 08375-236980, 08375-236987 haveri_samraksha@yahoo.co.in, devivm@yahoo.com

Samuha Samraksha

Anusayabai Kabadi Building Near Health Campus Bus Stand Health Camp area Betageri Gadag: 5821202 08372-245990 gadagsamraksha@yahoo.com

Samuha Samraksha

Ayyappanagar, 1st Cross Near Karunakiran Building Sirsi 581402 08384-235239, 229159 bherimr2004@yahoo.com, samraksha_uk@rediffmail.com

Myrada HIV/AIDS Project #426, 6th Cross, Palasandra Layout Kolar: 563101 08152-241029, 650426 kolarhiv@rediffmail.com

Myrada HIV/AIDS Project VP Extension Horticulture Road Chitradurga- 577501 08194-231381/231470 soukhya04@yahoo.com

Myrada HIV/AIDS Project

House no. 1-1165-2& 20A Lawab-E-Shahi PDA Engineering College Road Gulbarga- 585102 08472-256108 gulbargahiv@rediffmail.com

Suraksha

#13, Sai Nilaya, Ground Floor 2nd Cross, Kumara Park (West) Bangalore 560020 080-23465295 Suraksha_khpt@yahoo.com, surakshabangalore@yahoo.com

Sangama

#9, “Ababil”, Patil Chaluvappa Street J.C.Nagar, M.R. Palya Bangalore 560 006. 080 23438840/43 sangama@sangama.org Crisis helpline 9945601651/52 9945601653/54 9945231493

Gelaya Trust

296/1, 1st Cross Lakshmi Vilasa Road, Dev Raja Mohalla Mysore Near Jgan Mohana Palace 570 + 91 821 318 8745 08215 264310 gelayaa2000@yahoo.co.in

tamil nadu

Sahodaran

No. 27. New no.75, 3rd St Extn, Railway colony, Aminjikarai, Chennai-600029. 23740486 / 55277810 09381016129 sahodara@md3.vsnl.in www.sahodaran.faithweb.com

Shakti Resource Centre

No. 42A, 1st Floor, 5th Avenue, Besant Nagar, Chennai 600090 anjana@shakticenter.org, padma@shakticenter.org Padma:09940025231, Anjana:09884085788 www.shakticenter.org

Social Welfare Association for Men (SWAM) No.5, Natarajan Street, Jafferkhanpet, Balakrishnanagar, Chennai – 600083 (044) 23712324 / 09840437656 sekar_swam@rediffmail.com

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South India Aids Action Program (SIAAP) 65, 1st St. Kamraj Avenue, Adyar, Chennai - 600 020 siapp@satyam.net.in

Challenge

8/11, Jeevananthan Street, Lakshmi puram, Tiruvanmiyur, Chennai â&#x20AC;&#x201C; 41 044 - 24522285, 24523301 challenge_tn@yahoo.co.in

LIAAS

Room no.2, V. M. S. Mansion, Door No: 9, Pattam lane, Kumbakonam - 612001 (0) 9894386934 / (0) 9865941156. lotus_sangam@yahoo.co.in muthukumar.news@gmail.com

Movenpick

Movenpick [MP] provides a non-sexual support space for lesbian / gay / bi / transgendered (LGBT) people in Chennai. Join MP to realize that your sexuality need not be an impediment to your presence in the larger social context. This group encourages the exchange of views and opinions on any subject, not necessarily related to sexuality, but preferably relevant to the LGBT community. movenpick-subscribe@yahoogroups. com

Saathi

78, Ground Floor, Pushpa Nagar Main Road, Nungambakkam, Chennai 600 034 044 2817 3948 lramakrishnan2004@gmail.com www.saathii.org

Snegyitham

A-53 Park View Road, Anna Nagar, Tennur, Tiruchirapalli-620017 (0431) 2794719/ 4021709 snegyitham@yahoo.com snegyitham@gmail.com

Sudar Foundation

199, Natarajpuram Pukkathurai, Post Maduranthagam (T.K), Kancheepuram, Tamil Nadu. (0)9344611596 sudarfoundation@rediffmail.com

Thamilnadu Aravanigal Association (THAA) 20/29, Kattaboman Street, New Perungalathur, Chennai 600063, (044) 22791247, 22470238 aashaathaa@yahoo.co.in

pondicherry

kerela

Sahodaran Community Oriented Health Development Society (SCOHD)

Sahayatrika

No.61, Ground floor, Ellaiamman Koil Street, Pondicherry 605001. (0413) 2222469/ 2221696 09894455200 sahodran_pondy@sify.com sahodaran_podny@yahoo.com

Snehithan No.61 Ground Floor Elaiamman Koil Street Pondicherry - 605 001 +91 413 222 469 neshgak@yahoo.co.in

Advocacy and support for women loving women and other queer people in Kerala. sahayatrika@gmail.com

Human Rights Law Network T.C. 25 /2952, Old GPO Building Ambujavilasom Road Thiruvananthapuram-695001 0471 â&#x20AC;&#x201C; 2460652 hrlntvm@yahoo.com

Queer Kerala Webpage queerkerala.co.nr

An Invitation for New Initiatives

CHILLA, Ex-service Nagar, Perukavu P.O, Thiruvananthapuram 695573. 0471 2285526 9387224468. ananniaindia@yahoo.com

FIRM (Foundation for Integrated Research in Mental Health) Reg NO: 590/95 Bhaskar Vilas, Bhaskar Lane Pattom, Thiruvananthapuram 695004 0471-2530758, 3266114 firmindia@rediffmail.com

Snehapoorvam

9387058405 shehapoorvam2004@rediffmail.com

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106 uttar pradesh

Association for Advocacy and Legal Initiatives

Aali, 407- Dr. Baijnath Road, New Hyderabad Colony, Lucknow. 0522- 2782066, 2782060 psu@aalilegal.org, aalilegal@yahoo.co.in tulika@aalilegal.org

SAHAYOG

A-240, Indira Nagar, Lucknow 226 016 91-522-2341319, 2310860, 2310747 kritirc@sahayogindia.org

Bharosa 216/6/5 Peerpur House, 8 Tilak Marg, Lucknow 226 001 bharosatrust@usa.net bharosatrust@yahoo.co.in (F)0522 - 205267 91 522 220 8689

Naz Foundation International 9 Gulzar Colony, New Berry Lane, Lucknow 226 001 (O)205781/2 (F)205783 nazfoundint@yahoo.com

manipur

Aasha

SASO, RIMS Road, Imphal, Manipur (0)9856145520 jeeha_ra@yahoo.co.in aasha_055@yahoo.co.in

Marup Loi Foundation

South Babupar, Top Floor Telecom Building Opposite 1st MR Imphal 795 001 91 385 222 7391 julia_monika2000@yahoo.com maruploi@yahoo.com

maharashtra

Arawanis Social Welfare Society arawanis@rediffmail.com

Dai Welfare Society

Opp Second Masjid, Tata Nagar, Govandi, Mumbai 400043 (022)25482129 daiwelfaresociety@gmail.com

The Humsafar Trust

Old BMC Bldg, 1st & 2nd Floor, Nehru Road, Vakola, Santacruz, Mumbai 400055 022 - 26673800, 26650547, 55760357 humsafar@vsnl.com www.humsafar.org

India Centre for Human Rights and Law (ICHRL)

4th Floor, CVOD Jain High School, Hazrat Abbas Street, Dongri, Mumbai 400 009 huright@giasbm01.vsnl.net.in www.indiarights.com 371 6690/ 375 9657

Lawyers Collective

Jalaram Kripa, Ground Floor, No. 61, Janmabhoomi Marg, Fort, Mumbai 400001. 022-22875482/3, 22832779, 22024973, 22025976 (F)022-22821724 aidslaw@lawyerscollective.org

Samapathik Trust

1004, Budhwar Peth, T 9, Third Floor, Rameshwar Market, Near Vijay Maruti Chowk, Pune 411 002 samapathik@hotmail.com samapathik_pune@yahoo.co.in 020 24465362 (monday 7pm to 8pm only)

Queer studies circle Qsc@hotmail.com

MookNayak Sanstha

255, Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar Nagar, sangli 416 416 0233 2531062 mooknayak_sangli@yahoo.co.in

The Sakhi Char Chowghi Trust

15 Nisargadutta 3-75/ 3, Charkop, Kandivali (West), Mumbai (o)9833243117 sakhicharchowghi@yahoo.com

Sarathi Trust

140, Y.M.C.A. Premises, Latamangeshkar Hospital, Maharaj Baugh Road, Civil Lines, Nagpur -440001 (0712) 6418121 sarathitrust_2005@yahoo.co.in

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NIPASHA+

Jai Santoshi Maa Bldg No.5/5, Gauri Shankarwadi No.2 Pant Nagar, Ghatkopar (E) Mumbai 400 075 09839 911644 nipasha@indiatimes.com

Humjinsi C/O India Centre for Human Rights and Law CVOD Jain High School 4th Floor, Hazrat Abbas St. Dongri, Bombay 400 009 91-22-2371 6690 91-22-2379 1099

new delhi

Milan Project

The Naz Foundation (I) Trust A - 86 East of Kailash New Delhi 110065 +91-11-41724636 (2pm - 8pm) , 26910499 rahul_singh_76@yahoo.com www.nazindia.org

Mitr

madhya pradesh

11/4A, First Floor Double Story, Prem Nagar, Janakpuri New Delhi 58 09810 277347 mitr_ngo@yahoo.co.in

Shringar Foundation

PRISM

B-80,Machana colony Shivagi Nager, Bhopal 462016 9826035973 goa

Humsafar Trust 1st Floor, Umashankar Building, Near M.P.T. Ground, Patrong , Vasco-Da-Gama 403802 0832-2500144/ 09823551702 humsafar.goa@gmail.com

Works on issues affecting sexuality minorities prism_delhi@yahoo.co.in

Lawyers Collective

63/2 Masjid Road, 1st Floor, Jangpura, New Delhi - 110 014. 011-24377101/2, 24372237 (F)011-24372236 aidslaw1@lawyerscollective.org

Human Rights Law Network 65, Masjid Road , Jungpura New Delhi 110014 24324501/24316922 hrindel@vsnl.net

Sangini (India) Trust

P.O. Box 7532, Vasant Kunj New Delhi 110070 +91-9810671603 011-65676450 info@sanginii.org sangini97@hotmail.com

TARSHI (Talk About Reproductive and Sexual Health Issues) 462 2221/462 4441 11 Mathura Road Jungpura B New Delhi 011 65642625 www.tarshi.net

CREA

7 Mathura Road, 2nd Floor, Jangpura B, New Delhi 110014 91 11 2437 7707, 24378700, 24378701 (F) 91 11 2437 7708 crea@creaworld.org

bihar

Aasra Charitable Trust (ACT) 403, Nutanâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Vidya Opp. Loyala School, Kurji, Patna 800 010 91 612 227 1598 aasra@vsnl.net krishner@vsnl.net

gujarat

Lakshya Trust

105, Raj Mandir appts, 62 Alkapuri society, Alkapuri, Vadodara 0265 2331340/9825311997

Lakshya Trust

4th Floor, Meghani Towers, Cinema Road, Surat 0261 2421539 / 9825048345

Lakshya Trust

304, Shri Guru Raksha Complex, Near Bharat Travels, Tagore Road, Rajkot 0281 5596102 lakshya123@rediffmail.com

Parma

informal support group for single women, lesbians and bisexuals.

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110 west bengal

Amitie

15, Chunaripara, Baghgazar P.O Chandannagar, Dist - Hooghly 712136 (0) 9331038554 amitie_chandannagar@rediff.com amitie_chandannagar@yahoo.com

Dumdum Swikriti Society 75 Jawapur Road, Kolkata 700074 9433009190, 9831743608, 9830170175 swikriti2003@hotmail.com swikriti_03@yahoo.co.in

Saathi

CD 335, Sector 1, Salt Lake City, Kolkata 700064. (91 33) 2334 7329. pawan30@yahoo.com www.saathii.org/gensex/calcutta

Counsel Club

Support group for sexuality minorities. Meets 1st and 3rd Sundays of the month, 5-8 pm. C/o Ranjan, Post Bag 794, Kolkata 700 017 counselclub93@hotmail.com 359 8130 (C/o Integration)

Palm Tree Avenue Integration Society

A health awareness initiative for the youth and sexual minorities. Library service: Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, 3-6 pm C/o Pawan, Post Bag 10237, Kolkata 700 019 359 8130 (functions as helpline SAHAYAK on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, 3-6 pm) pawan30@yahoo.com

Praajak Development Society

Development organisation working around issues of masculinities with a primary focus on boys and male youth. Also works with gender variant males including hijras, kotis and duplis/doparathas. 468A, Block K, New Alipore, Kolkata 700 053 praajak@yahoo.co.in praajak@hotmail.com deeppurkayastha@yahoo.co.in 91 33 400 0455 400 0455 400 0592

Pratyay

P-251/B.Purna Das Road Kolkata 700 028 pratyay@hotmail.com pratyaygendertrust@yahoo.co.in

Prantik

Reada Para P.o. Bongaon Dist. No.24 Parganas, Bongaon 743 235 anjnil23@rediffmail.com

Sappho

Post Box No. EC35 Kolkata 700 010 033-22813462 sappho1990@rediffmail.com http://sappho.shoe.org

Sarani

Experimental performing arts troupe focusing on development issues like sexual minority rights and sexual health. 84 Jhowtalla road, Suite No.2, Kolkata 700 017. wrongzone@hotmail.com

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