Pride at Home Turf… Notes from Kolkata Pride march

By Imtiaz Akhtar

Participants at the Kolkata Pride march 2011

It is a typical noon back here in College Square. The empty trams with ads of chewing tobacco are slowly pulling themselves, the stalls selling those second hand books are closed, few crows are hopping with morsel of bread, the drivers of cabs with brick red cloth on their shoulder are crushing tobacco on their palm lazily while waiting for passengers. I arrive with my weapon- a pen and a pad.

The rainbow color banners, the camera, the young girls confidently smoking cigarettes as they chat among themselves, young men wearing buttock revealing jeans hugging each other, the beautiful eunuchs smiling while poising for the ever-ready-ever-greedy camera, activists making last minute preparations, the police and local people staring from the corner of their eyes at the cleavages of lesbians and eunuchs- all are there.

Although the gathering is impressive, it falls short of the Delhi Pride March, I asked this question to Anis Ray Chowdhury, one of the principal forces behind this march; he dismisses my skepticism by telling me that, “There are two reasons, first is that it’s monsoon and second that Delhi is a cosmopolitan city, and this is a city where most of our people live in Parah (closed neighborhood), so they aren’t confident”.
As we move slowly on the road leading to Shyambazar, the cheering and singing of marchers are enough to make ladies come out to their balconies and smile at us, perhaps laugh would be the right word. I next spoke to Sohnali, a young girl from Kolkata who runs a group for lesbians called Velvet. I ask her about the reaction she got from her parents, friends and relatives on her being lesbian. She says, “My parents and close friends have accepted me as I am and as far as my relatives are concerned I don’t speak to them”. She further tells me that, “Look today’s younger generation is much more tolerant- they don’t mind these things’, a point not accepted by one of marchers Abhishek who has come all the way from Bhubaneswar. He tells me, “The whole point is that most people pretend to be cool about this stuff while in reality they all suffer from homophobia”. On being asked the reason, he pauses and tells me, “I don’t know why”.

Slowly as we move towards the other end of college square, the strength of passersby staring at us has increased exponentially. Laborers taking bath stop and stare at us, the young couples eating ice cream on seeing us exchange a smile, bored men reading newspaper at the cafés relish their eyes on us, kids holding the hands of their parents confusedly look at us. Be that as it may, I continued my interviews.

I then spoke to Gatresh who, interestingly informs me that, it was here in this city that he discovered his true identity of being gay. He makes another point when I ask him whether his parents are aware of his identity. He says point blank – no. But how long can you keep it as a secret I ask him further, to which he says, “So far I have been buying time on one or the other pretext, but I know”, he takes a deep breath and adds that, “someday I will have to come out”.

It’s been some 2 hours since we began walking; my legs are aching. The earnest voice from the loudspeaker accompanying us, has repeatedly been telling this city, that homosexuality is not unnatural, all branches of science tells us that it is not unnatural. We have already reached the five point crossing at hyambazar, where a huge charcoal black statute of Netaji is perhaps smiling at us. We all stop near the metro station, and regain our breath. Most of us do it by smoking cigarettes. Activists lecture us on the importance of unity. All most everybody who spoke thanked the Delhi High Court and cried against Azad’s statement. Madhu Hijra, a transgender activist asks the crowd, “Tell me why we should face discrimination, is it because we have two horns and a tail, isn’t our blood red like yours.” As the shrill voices from the loudspeaker ained down on our tired ears, I am suddenly reminded of the words of Sohnali, who just an hour ago had poignantly told me, “The whole point of having a march is that someday in our own life time, there won’t be any need of these marches”. I departed from the spot with these remarks on my mind.