<p>Aeons before Abhishek Bachchan did a Dostana, his father Amitabh Bachchan starred in a film of the same name, with Shatrughan Sinha. The film, which dealt with the theme of male friendship, had such poignant songs (sung by the two men), that I translated a couple of them for a commissioned article in an American anthology on queer Asian cinema. One of the songs reads as follows:<br /><br />Even if the whole world turns an enemy <br />Let our friendship prosper.<br />We swear by this friendship<br />Not even death can separate us.<br />If anyone asks us where we live<br />We say<br />We live in each other’s hearts.<br />That is the only address we have.<br />May our friendship prosper.<br /><br />But Dostana wasn’t a random film done by Amitabh Bachchan. Throughout the 70s and 80s, he appeared in dozens of flicks responsible for catapulting him into a superstar where he was pitted against another hero who almost seemed like his romantic interest. The heroes were Dharmendra, Rajesh Khanna, Vinod Khanna, Shashi Kapoor and Pran. Together, Amitabh and they sang songs that spoke of undying love. The heroines of these films, although leading ladies of the day — Hema Malini, Zeenat Aman, Parveen Babi, Raakhee and Rekha — served merely as tokens. They were there simply because they had to be there, and the heterosexual love story involving them and Amitabh, ostensibly the main theme of the film, seemed laboured.<br /><br />‘Yeh dosti’<br />Amitabh Bachchan and the filmmakers of his generation would be perplexed if confronted with such interpretations of his films. But the naïveté is on account of heterosexism — the fallacious belief that sexual love is possible only between persons of the opposite sex. <br /><br />This is most obvious in the Yeh Dosti number in Sholay, which Amitabh and Dharmendra sing on a motorbike. Every frame and every lyrical line lend credence to the view that this is a song of gay love, and that Sholay, in fact, is the on-screen side of a film like Brokeback Mountain. <br /><br />Yet the song is bandied as a song of platonic love by all and sundry. Audiences are fiercely resistant to interpretations of it as a song of same sex love. But when asked how they would read the song if, say, Amitabh was replaced by Hema Malini, Sholay’s heroine, they are nonplussed. No doubt, that would make it a love song featuring a man and woman!<br /><br />In contrast to his father, Amitabh’s son Abhishek displays much greater sophistication in the new Dostana. At least he and John Abraham know what they’re up to, even if at the end of the day it’s only a gag. <br /><br />This awareness is also present in films like Bombay Boys, Page 3 and Fashion that have overtly or covertly gay characters. Indeed, every other TV soap and TV commercial today has recourse to gay and lesbian innuendo.<br /><br />The new Dostana, however, is a cut above the rest. Despite the gay community’s displeasure with it, Karan Johar must be lauded for cleverly getting his message across to a reactionary audience. In Dostana, both John and Abhishek continually proclaim, “I’m not gay.” Yet, what’s the intrinsic evidence that they’re straight? <br />There isn’t a single sex scene worth its name between either of them and the heroine, Priyanka Chopra. But what’s more, in the end neither of them, contrary to audience expectations, gets the heroine. She chooses Bobby Deol (of all people) over the two of them. Women have a way of intuitively knowing a gay man when they see one! Thus, it’s Priyanka Chopra who asks them, when the game is over and the cat is out of the bag, if, during all the time they pulled a fast one on the world, they did indeed ‘feel’ anything for each other. That’s when each of them privately recalls their famous kissing scene, which proves that it wasn’t as disgusting to them as they made it out to be.<br /><br />In any case, according to the six point Kinsey scale, exclusive heterosexuals are as much of a minority as exclusive homosexuals. The vast majority of human beings, then, can swing both ways, depending on the circumstances. Movies like the new Dostana must not be seen in isolation. Instead, they must be read in conjunction with other social, political and cultural changes that India has been witnessing, post-globalisation. Let us examine what these are.<br /><br />Opening minds<br />First, the formation of gay support groups in Indian metros and mini metros, beginning with Ashok Row Kavi’s ‘Humsafar Trust’. Gay support groups problematise the issue of sexual orientation and bring it to the awareness of the general public. Some of them are responsible for organising gay pride marches in Kolkata, Bangalore and Chennai in the last week of June each year. (This marks the anniversary of the Stonewall riots in New York City 40 years ago). By taking the matter to the streets, gay support groups can thus be given the credit for initiating a sea change in the collective psyche of the Indian masses.<br /><br />Secondly, the print and electronic media in India, both in English and the regional languages, have been pro-active in the fight to scrap, or at least modify, Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code. This law, as everyone knows, was introduced by the Victorians in the 19th century and foisted on India, the jewel in the crown. <br />Today, it embarrasses even Britain that got rid of it way back in 1969. But India myopically continues to hold on to it in the name of Indian culture. The evidence for this is present everywhere — in the Kamasutra, in Khajuraho and Konarak, and in innumerable legends.<br /><br />Thirdly, through osmosis, the awareness generated by gay support groups and the media have percolated down to the common man. Today, grown men will not hold hands in public, or walk with arms around each other’s shoulders or waists, as they did in the past. Heterosexism is thus effectively dealt with.<br />Fourthly, Indian universities, such as my university, the University of Pune, as well as others like JNU and the University of Hyderabad, must be praised for introducing courses in gay and lesbian studies. In my case, this was initially met with resistance from the academic fraternity, but eventually they relented. <br /><br />In February 2007, my university even invited me to organise an international conference on ‘Gay Cinema and Literature in Canada and India.’ Academic dons have at last begun to recognise the importance of gay and lesbian studies, and the squeamishness that they earlier demonstrated seems to have disappeared.<br /><br />Fifthly, authors like Vikram Seth, Mahesh Dattani, Firdaus Kanga, Hoshang Merchant, Suniti Namjoshi, Ruth Vanita, Saleem Kidwai, Giti Thadani, Ashwini Sukhthankar, Devdutt Patnaik and I, as well as a new generation of emerging writers and scholars, have ensured that we produce books on the subject on a regular basis. These literary and scholarly works comprise both imaginative literature — poetry, fiction and drama — as well as sociological, historical and critical studies. There are also books in regional languages like Marathi and Malayalam.<br /><br />All this taken together amounts to a ferment, a renaissance. One day this is bound to get to the mindset of that monster called mainstream Indian society, and to our netas and babus. The law will change and we will be a step closer towards a gay utopia.<br /><em><br />(The writer is an author and professor in the department of English, University of Pune)<br /><br />This piece was written before the Delhi High Court order on legalising gay sex among consenting adults.</em></p>
<p>Aeons before Abhishek Bachchan did a Dostana, his father Amitabh Bachchan starred in a film of the same name, with Shatrughan Sinha. The film, which dealt with the theme of male friendship, had such poignant songs (sung by the two men), that I translated a couple of them for a commissioned article in an American anthology on queer Asian cinema. One of the songs reads as follows:<br /><br />Even if the whole world turns an enemy <br />Let our friendship prosper.<br />We swear by this friendship<br />Not even death can separate us.<br />If anyone asks us where we live<br />We say<br />We live in each other’s hearts.<br />That is the only address we have.<br />May our friendship prosper.<br /><br />But Dostana wasn’t a random film done by Amitabh Bachchan. Throughout the 70s and 80s, he appeared in dozens of flicks responsible for catapulting him into a superstar where he was pitted against another hero who almost seemed like his romantic interest. The heroes were Dharmendra, Rajesh Khanna, Vinod Khanna, Shashi Kapoor and Pran. Together, Amitabh and they sang songs that spoke of undying love. The heroines of these films, although leading ladies of the day — Hema Malini, Zeenat Aman, Parveen Babi, Raakhee and Rekha — served merely as tokens. They were there simply because they had to be there, and the heterosexual love story involving them and Amitabh, ostensibly the main theme of the film, seemed laboured.<br /><br />‘Yeh dosti’<br />Amitabh Bachchan and the filmmakers of his generation would be perplexed if confronted with such interpretations of his films. But the naïveté is on account of heterosexism — the fallacious belief that sexual love is possible only between persons of the opposite sex. <br /><br />This is most obvious in the Yeh Dosti number in Sholay, which Amitabh and Dharmendra sing on a motorbike. Every frame and every lyrical line lend credence to the view that this is a song of gay love, and that Sholay, in fact, is the on-screen side of a film like Brokeback Mountain. <br /><br />Yet the song is bandied as a song of platonic love by all and sundry. Audiences are fiercely resistant to interpretations of it as a song of same sex love. But when asked how they would read the song if, say, Amitabh was replaced by Hema Malini, Sholay’s heroine, they are nonplussed. No doubt, that would make it a love song featuring a man and woman!<br /><br />In contrast to his father, Amitabh’s son Abhishek displays much greater sophistication in the new Dostana. At least he and John Abraham know what they’re up to, even if at the end of the day it’s only a gag. <br /><br />This awareness is also present in films like Bombay Boys, Page 3 and Fashion that have overtly or covertly gay characters. Indeed, every other TV soap and TV commercial today has recourse to gay and lesbian innuendo.<br /><br />The new Dostana, however, is a cut above the rest. Despite the gay community’s displeasure with it, Karan Johar must be lauded for cleverly getting his message across to a reactionary audience. In Dostana, both John and Abhishek continually proclaim, “I’m not gay.” Yet, what’s the intrinsic evidence that they’re straight? <br />There isn’t a single sex scene worth its name between either of them and the heroine, Priyanka Chopra. But what’s more, in the end neither of them, contrary to audience expectations, gets the heroine. She chooses Bobby Deol (of all people) over the two of them. Women have a way of intuitively knowing a gay man when they see one! Thus, it’s Priyanka Chopra who asks them, when the game is over and the cat is out of the bag, if, during all the time they pulled a fast one on the world, they did indeed ‘feel’ anything for each other. That’s when each of them privately recalls their famous kissing scene, which proves that it wasn’t as disgusting to them as they made it out to be.<br /><br />In any case, according to the six point Kinsey scale, exclusive heterosexuals are as much of a minority as exclusive homosexuals. The vast majority of human beings, then, can swing both ways, depending on the circumstances. Movies like the new Dostana must not be seen in isolation. Instead, they must be read in conjunction with other social, political and cultural changes that India has been witnessing, post-globalisation. Let us examine what these are.<br /><br />Opening minds<br />First, the formation of gay support groups in Indian metros and mini metros, beginning with Ashok Row Kavi’s ‘Humsafar Trust’. Gay support groups problematise the issue of sexual orientation and bring it to the awareness of the general public. Some of them are responsible for organising gay pride marches in Kolkata, Bangalore and Chennai in the last week of June each year. (This marks the anniversary of the Stonewall riots in New York City 40 years ago). By taking the matter to the streets, gay support groups can thus be given the credit for initiating a sea change in the collective psyche of the Indian masses.<br /><br />Secondly, the print and electronic media in India, both in English and the regional languages, have been pro-active in the fight to scrap, or at least modify, Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code. This law, as everyone knows, was introduced by the Victorians in the 19th century and foisted on India, the jewel in the crown. <br />Today, it embarrasses even Britain that got rid of it way back in 1969. But India myopically continues to hold on to it in the name of Indian culture. The evidence for this is present everywhere — in the Kamasutra, in Khajuraho and Konarak, and in innumerable legends.<br /><br />Thirdly, through osmosis, the awareness generated by gay support groups and the media have percolated down to the common man. Today, grown men will not hold hands in public, or walk with arms around each other’s shoulders or waists, as they did in the past. Heterosexism is thus effectively dealt with.<br />Fourthly, Indian universities, such as my university, the University of Pune, as well as others like JNU and the University of Hyderabad, must be praised for introducing courses in gay and lesbian studies. In my case, this was initially met with resistance from the academic fraternity, but eventually they relented. <br /><br />In February 2007, my university even invited me to organise an international conference on ‘Gay Cinema and Literature in Canada and India.’ Academic dons have at last begun to recognise the importance of gay and lesbian studies, and the squeamishness that they earlier demonstrated seems to have disappeared.<br /><br />Fifthly, authors like Vikram Seth, Mahesh Dattani, Firdaus Kanga, Hoshang Merchant, Suniti Namjoshi, Ruth Vanita, Saleem Kidwai, Giti Thadani, Ashwini Sukhthankar, Devdutt Patnaik and I, as well as a new generation of emerging writers and scholars, have ensured that we produce books on the subject on a regular basis. These literary and scholarly works comprise both imaginative literature — poetry, fiction and drama — as well as sociological, historical and critical studies. There are also books in regional languages like Marathi and Malayalam.<br /><br />All this taken together amounts to a ferment, a renaissance. One day this is bound to get to the mindset of that monster called mainstream Indian society, and to our netas and babus. The law will change and we will be a step closer towards a gay utopia.<br /><em><br />(The writer is an author and professor in the department of English, University of Pune)<br /><br />This piece was written before the Delhi High Court order on legalising gay sex among consenting adults.</em></p>
