Gay parade in Indian cities
In Delhi and Chennai – as in other Indian cities – lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender community came out in the open to celebrate their sexuality and demanded decriminalisation of homosexuality. The march was as much for sexual minorities as it was for any believer in democratic rights, said a poet.
New Delhi: 25-year-old Amrit (who goes by his first name), a city-based fashion editor, had been waiting for Sunday to celebrate who he was.
Clad in body-hugging yellow T-shirt and cream trousers, golden/ pink sparklers glowing on his face, the waif-thin Amrit held a 1 foot by 1 foot placard – “Queer and loving it” – and blew kisses at his male “friend”.
- Participants at the first Chennai Rainbow Pride March on Sunday/ Photo credit: The Hindu
With a pair of translucent, sky blue butterfly wings hugging his back, and a paper flag displaying the “rainbow colours” bobbing out of his shirt’s pocket, Amrit was among the hundreds of others who had gathered at the Barakhambha Road-Tolstoy Road junction on Sunday evening to participate in the Delhi Queer Pride ’09 parade.
The “gay” parade, an annual event organised by a coalition of countrywide gay rights organisations including the Humsafar Trust and the Naaz, was held to demand the abolition of the article 377 of the Indian Penal Code that awarded a 10-year jail-term to those indulging in oral/ anal sex.
“We, who belong to the LGBTI (lesbians, gay, bisexual, transgender and intersex) community are treated like criminals, subjected to violence rape/ blackmail by the intolerant bullies including the police,” said Amrit in his clipped English.
Moments later, at 5.30 pm, the parade’s organisers indicated to the participants that the 800-metre “march” to Jantar Mantar would begin.
Their polite instructions were lost to the revellers who had packed the road stretch and intent on some serious revelry: women and men – the upper-half of their faces covered partially by flamboyant masks, their bodies clad in their tee shirts and jeans – blew into their red soccer ball-shaped whistles, shouted “Article 377, quit India” and swayed to a Bollywood number as the members of the Asha Musical brass band played on.
Amrit said he discovered his preference for “boys” when he was a “13-year-old”. Sameet Arora (name changed), a 38-year-old Indian Institute of Management graduate now working in an MNC as “finance manager”, came from Mumbai to walk the walk but had kept a little aloof from the rest. He wore a blue mask, but unlike the others, he was clothed in the less cheery colours – black jeans, grey shirt.
It bothers Arora that he has not “yet” broken the news to his parents about his “sexual identity”. “My parents are old and very orthodox… If I tell them that I am gay, they would die of shock instantly,” he whispered.
At Jantar Mantar, the participants kept a “two minute silence” for those from the LGBTI community getting “oppressed”, and resolved to come back again for the parade “with more pride”.
I never thought this would happen in my lifetime in Chennai,” D. Chandrasekaran, an IT professional, said laughingly. All around him hundreds marched on the Marina on Sunday evening, united by the belief that ‘Hues may vary but humanity does not.’
The first Chennai Rainbow Pride March was a celebration and a political statement to proclaim the rights of the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people. “We should not be afraid to come out and say we are gay,” said a participant who had come from Chidambaram, wearing a mask.
“People need to understand about us. We are not animals or primitive creatures,” he said.
Another participant from Kanyakumari, also wearing a mask, said that he hoped that such parades would also highlight the need for legal reforms. “If Section 377 is read down, we can stay legally with our partners,” he said.
“This march is more political, less like a party,” said Ailish, who had come to India for a visit from Ireland, comparing it with other pride marches she had been to.
“It is both – a celebration and a political statement,” said Sunil Menon, founder of Sahodaran, a non-governmental organisation.
Many expressed hope that societal sensitivity would bring some succour to their daily lives. “We want a proper place to stay and employment opportunities. It can happen only if society gives us sanction,” said Shankari, talking about the issues of the transgender community.
There were many who were in the march to show solidarity for the rights of sexual minorities.
“This march is not just for sexual minorities, but for anybody who feels strongly about civil or democratic rights,” said Sharanya Manivannan, a poet.
But there were some who did not share that sentiment; a few onlookers jeered at the parade.
“When I tell that I am gay, some say ‘so what’… that’s the way it should be,” said Srivath, who paused to talk. “I don’t blame the older generation,” he said, adding that they came from a time when men were not allowed into the kitchen. It was the present and future generations that held hope, he said.
And the younger generation was there in full force to support the cause. “The student community is very aware,” said 20-year-old P.C. Samyuktha.
“We are ‘consciously confused’,” she said, describing the struggle to define identities.
Perhaps, the answer was not in black and white definitions, but in the diffusing shades of a rainbow.
