Pride (In the name of love)

Saturday August 16th was Bombay’s first ever GLBT march – our version of Gay Pride..Of course I was there – after agonizing about what to wear. As you’ll see, I settled for dressing like I dress everyday. After all, part of getting people to accept you, is getting them to accept you as you are. Which in my case is "fashion victim desperately trying to hide a 31 year old belly by inhaling and holding his breath for as long as he can – and then finding a quiet corner to exhale where no one can see him".

We gathered at Gowalia Tank – rather grandiosely renamed August Krati Maidan after the Quit India resolution of 1942 that was passed there. The point of having Pride start there was twofold – one; to ask for the repealing of Article 377 – the article in the Indian Penal (heh!) Code that makes me a criminal for loving a man (Which technically means I’m safe – I’m loveless at the moment), the second; to show that even after the rest of India celebrated our Independence day on August 15th, sexual minorities were still waiting the next day for their right to be free from prejudice.

The Maidan was a sea of color. Rainbow mostly – but with a lot of pink by the gay bois and stonewashed jeans for the lesbians. There was lots of speechifying by the feminists and the lesbians and the trans community with a rather valiant effort by S. on behalf of us gay bois. Meanwhile cut to all of us gay bois at the back of the crowd comparing clothes, colors and accessories. Whoever said we weren’t a shallow and vain bunch! We even had a celeb sighting – a C list celeb in angel wings come to “share” our pain. Yikes! Meanwhile, I couldn’t spot a single gay celeb anywhere (Except my charming friend K. M. looking very dapper in his trademark mascara). We tried to gloss it over talking about how if they had come, it would have overshadowed the march itself but it was very disappointing to have no Bollywood or industry support for the march (Yeah, a couple of lines in the Bombay Times don’t count as support!)

Anyway, we marched towards Chowpatty (a fitting location given the “action” that happens here come Ganpati Visarjan) passing a lot of middle class South Bombay (Yes, apparently it exists!). Curious flat owners leaned down to take pictures of the march (and us…)..Little old Parsi ladies at Ness Baug fanned themselves and kept a look out for Uncle Rohinton and Auntie Tehmi..cops wondered what straw they drew to get stuck protecting a bunch of happy, dancing, singing queers. All the way down to the beach where we sang one last “Hum Honge Kaamyaab”, got one last set of numbers and headed off home.

All in all a great time for me. I danced, I sang, I marched, I got dumped by a guy, I got asked out by this girl (“Are you “really” sure you can’t be bi?”) I can’t wait till next year..Inshallah we’ll be celebrating “NOT” being criminals next year…

(Left: Me - exhausted and happy at the end of the day)