WHERE ARE ALL THE GAY PEOPLE? Nishit Saran August 6, 2000 860 words So a restaurant in Delhi has a gay night every week. Othello loves Iago in Roysten Abel’s new play. Drag queens grace the front page of the Indian Express. Max Meuller presents a Gay and Lesbian Film Festival. Mumbai witnesses a National Gay Conference. Every month there is a new gay movie at PVR to rave about – The Object of My Affection, American Beauty, Three to Tango and now Boys Don’t Cry. One would think that a veritable gay ‘revolution’ was underway in this country, except for one thing: where are all the gay people? Oh, we all know that there are millions of ‘them’ – furtively haunting the city parks, secretly going to the gay parties, sending thousands of anonymous sexy messages to each other across the Internet. But – here’s the crunch – where are all the ‘out’ gay people? Do you know any? Ashok Row Kavi of Bombay Dost and Sylvie of drag fame? Okay, that makes two. Do you know any others? The point is… we all know that there are many other people, some of them household names, who are openly gay… to their friends, which includes just about the whole world. That Fashion Designer, that Bollywood Director, that Senior Journalist… we all know. But we all also know that they would never allow their sexuality to be mentioned in print. And we think that, of course, this is the way things should be: it’s their private life, after all… and if they don’t want to talk about it, that’s their prerogative. The problem, though, is that none of them want to talk about it– in print or on television. And that is a true pity, for what wonderful role models they would make: successful, intelligent, articulate, good-looking, well adjusted… And look what we have instead: a revolution without any diversity of positive models, a revolution that reinforces the ‘dark and furtive and sleazy’ about sexuality instead of the ‘normal and healthy.’ Imagine Mrs. Sharma and Mrs. Varma talking over the garden fence. “Yes, if these successful and intelligent people are gay, maybe it is okay for my daughter to be gay as well… but wait, if they are ashamed to talk about it, maybe it is not so okay after all.” If it is not shame, what else is it, then, with our successful friends? Certainly not that it would affect their careers: someone who buys an XYZ original at Crossroads clearly knows – and doesn’t care – about the sexuality of her designer. Similarly, no producer would let go of the millions he could make with a blockbuster director simply because the world knew he was gay. Would the masses not watch a film if the director that made it told them he was gay? The socio-economic argument is indeed valid for our middle classes, but these independently wealthy and influential people are quite exempt. So maybe our friends are simply not political, then? Maybe they’re just not interested? That hardly seems to be the case, though: Page Three chronicles everyday the many fundraisers and benefit-balls and charity-dos that our friends grace with their presence. Which of them would allow a photographer to shoot them at a gay fundraiser, though? Which of them would let a TV crew interview them at the Max Mueller gay film festival? Ah, but wouldn’t it all be in such bad taste? Our sophisticated gay friends raising their fists in the air screaming gay pride… the horror! Not in this country, no, thank you… This is not the land of Monica and Bill… Here, we don’t talk about the PM’s mistress and the MP’s boy-toy… Instead, we live in a regime of the Open Secret, the Big Rumour. Everyone knows, but no one talks about it. Which, I guess, is okay in most cases. What difference would it make to the lives of our people if the PM did indeed have a mistress, after all? But this is different; this would make a difference. To young gay men and women and the people they come out to. To cultural opinion, yes, but also to real lives. This is not purely a matter of symbols. Revolutions need faces; people need people to look up to. And no one is asking for Stonewall, no one is asking for marches down to Parliament, not yet anyway. For now, the occasional line in the interview would be fine. “Yes, I am gay. So what?” would itself do wonders, something as simple as that. How tempting it is to play Manoj Prabhakar in this game as well – to name names and finish off all the hypocrisy. To play the little boy in the story The Emperor’s New Clothes and get it all over with. Certainly, there have been moments in gay history where forced outing has been necessary. We are not at such a moment, though, and to play that game now would truly be in poor taste. All we need, for now, is some people – any of these people – to come out in public, with dignity and without fanfare. Such a little step, so little to lose, but it would make a world of difference.