Naming one book after the other Saikat’s celebratory tone about the fact that much gay fiction and nonfiction is getting published he misses one more point: diversity. How many fictions, nonfictions by trans writer, Saikat? Or for that matter by any gender nonconforming person? Or anyone under the sun except gay man or woman?
Lovely is a hijra who works at traffic signals for a living. She lives in a slum in Kolkata and dreams of becoming an actor. Not only that she dreams it, but is working toward it. The setting is a breath of fresh air as most of the novels, when describing the movie world, are obsessed with the tinseltown, Mumbai.
Subramanian Swamy’s homophobic tweet is making rounds. No one knows how he thought to share a piece of filth from the past. It’s posted two years ago, when Section 377 was read down. No one seems to learn from their mistakes, certainly not Mr Swamy.
I always wished there could be as many books by queer authors or books on subjects concerning queer lives, but after reading The Other Guy (Leadstart Publishing, 2017) by Aakash Mehrotra I don’t know if this book, and its likes, help us achieve the function of literature.
The opening shot couldn’t have been more dramatic. Waseem is waiting at the platform for a train to come, he looks left and smiles at a woman who leaves; the next moment his phone beeps.
Today, I’m out to everyone; except my mother and grandmother (for reasons I wouldn’t like to share). My brother thinks that homosexuality can be treated. Thanks to Baba Ramdev, who, according to him, has a cure for everything. I do know, as a matter of fact, that my brother and my sister-in-law did go to watch Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan; however, I don’t know what it taught them.
Yesterday, I finished reading this in an hour, and basis my current political understanding of the feminist and queer discourse, I thought to again indulge in a conversation with this book and assess the magnitude of its contents.
When I finished browsing through this heavy pink-covered hardcover book that has Paolo Sergio de Castro’s image on the front – who died of AIDS and the book is dedicated to him – with “wish you were here” in golden color, I was overwhelmed with emotions. These 128 pages, cover to cover, carries the making of someone; multiple landscapes that change as abruptly as does the subjects of assessment of Sunil.
Being a collection of vignettes doesn’t mean that this book doesn’t have a structure. It does. Divided in three part — bucketing several private events that happened between 1968–1997, 1997–2006, and after 2006, and juxtaposing them with the social reality in France — this memoir takes us through the author’s internal dilemmas and struggles.
There’s a way in which nation works. And some nations believe in their “greatness.” They believe in their masculinity, their powerfulness, their unbreakability, their purity.
It didn’t take me a while to understand why this tweet against him started trending. Now I can connect the dots: Kaushal made them — the upper-caste, heterosexual and patriarchal regime — uncomfortable by being a Dalit, queer and, on top of that, being from JNU, now DSE.