Rohin Bhatt (he/them) is a queer, gen Z, Supreme court advocate-turned-author. They assisted senior advocate Anand Grover on the Surpriyo Vs Union Of India case for marriage equality. While the final judgement passed did not recognise the validity of queer marriage in India, there were still a few wins and critical observations that were made from that event. Commitment to each others’ wellbeing as a community being one of them.
I remember the nation holding its breath when the public hearing began in April 2023, and letting out a deep, collective sigh of dejection on 17th October, 2023 when the judgement was passed. Bhatt as a queer individual themself, who was also assisting the plaintiffs’ team on the case was going through a range of emotions that I doubt anyone should have to juggle. They discuss this emotionally turbulent experience in their debut book, The Urban Elite V. The Union Of India: The Unfulfiled Constitutional Promise Of Marriage (In)Equality alongside a detailed look into the arguments made during the hearing.
The Queer Timing Of This Book
Rohin writes: Usually one does not write such a book until one is either bald and wrinkled, or dying. Well, perhaps this is what it means to be queer. You break norms. You do not adhere to rules and boundaries which are set for you.
And I wholeheartedly agree. It reminds me of the concept of “queer time”, which essentially means that the way queer folx live their lives and experience its flow is non-linear when compared to the norm. Our careers have way more obstacles as compared to cis-het folx, our romantic lives are always just a couple steps away from criminalisation, or tucked away into the shadows of society.
This is also why the timing of this book cannot be more perfect. We’ve grown accustomed to behind-the-scenes efforts taking years to come to light. However, Bhatt brought the conversation to the forefront within a year of the judgment being passed. This quick action keeps people invested in the movement. It also helps queer individuals who can’t actively engage with the community stay connected to the collective fight. Even allies—those who supported us and continue to stand by our side—are reminded of the work that remains to be done.
The 3 Ps at an Intersection
So what’s the book like? Well, let me ask you, what do you think it is like to have your professional, political, and personal lives all merged into one, while being tested in front of the entire nation? Only Rohin can answer that and they do it graciously, through their writing.
This book is for anyone and everyone who is interested in legal histories, judicial structures, and the larger queer rights movement in India, all contextualized by the marriage equality case.
I wouldn’t call it a record or chronicle of the case—it would then mean that the information and insights shared by Rohin in the book are impartial and unmoved by the ongoing events. However, when it comes to cases involving human rights and the Supreme Court’s moral obligations in India, true objectivity is almost impossible. Ironically, Bhatt highlights how the legal framework prioritizes objectivity, even though queer movements are inherently complex and can’t be neatly packaged or simplified.
There was an external acknowledgement (from Rohin, validating my own doubts) that queer history in India (like many other nations) is not linear and nor can it be linear. It is dispersed and diverse, and there will always be some wins within the judiciary’s realm which garner more attention, but do they all benefit every queer individual equally? Goes on to show the role that the Supreme Court and the Indian legal system plays in upholding democratic institutions and where we (the citizens) have been lagging as a nation, system, and community.
Also Read: Why Indian Patriarchy And Patriotism Is Against True Marriage Equality?
Thoughts While Reading:
It was a bit of a tougher read than my personal last few reads, at least for someone with no academic training in the law of the land. But it’s nothing that a simple google couldn’t solve, and I certainly love a book that expects me to be more involved in order to understand what it wants to say. It makes me think and reflect with the author, and it may be a personal thing but I like to feel involved as I read. I’d like to believe that if you’re also interested in understanding the case or the legal landscape of queerness in India, you would also feel invested. You will read, you will care and you will learn a lot along the way!
What truly increased this books’ accessibility for me, as someone with ADHD, was an early layout of what to expect from each chapter. It made reading a non-fiction book like Rohin’s feel inviting and helped me get a sense of what I’d be reading about. Rohin doesn’t frame homophobia as a singular issue with a clear origin tied to a particular event, group or culture. Instead, they present it as a deep-rooted problem that deserves focus while also addressing other forms of discrimination that occurs in the Indian community.
Also read: Shaadi dot com who? We Only Know Gay India Matrimony
Chapter 1 goes over the foundations, and the chapter-wise brief really worked for me—it helped me settle into the idea that Rohin is laying everything out clearly for the reader. We also get glimpses of who they are and why they do what they do.
Chapter 2 highlights the gaps we, as a community, need to focus on—our internal interests, ideals, and larger goals.
Chapter 3 dives into the legal history, covering the “how-did-we-end-up-here” journey leading to the marriage equality case. It helps us understand the plea before the Supreme Court and the ground realities of the queer community.
Chapter 4 goes into the petitioners’ arguments about the case, analyzing their points and showing how Parliament steps in—sometimes to obstruct, sometimes to aid the movement.
Chapter 5 is about the court’s view of queer life, which feels like a harsh reality check. It reflects the experience of being abandoned as a community and includes the blatant queerphobia that came out in front of the highest court in the nation.
Chapter 6, the final chapter, critiques the judgment and explores the queer possibilities of the future. It asks: If marriage becomes legal, where does that leave Indian queers who choose not to marry? How will couples navigate housing, jobs, and social security in a still-hostile society?
Also read: Marriage, Moral Panic And The Suspect Future Of Marriage Equality
The Queer Political Scope
What seemed like an intimidating read at first glance, really wasn’t. The book stands to be a reliable resource for many as a way to understand not just the case but the present political climate with respect to queerness in India. It also stands as a record of the times we currently live in, state of democracy, state of corruption and human rights in this part of the world. Marriage continues to be (unfortunately) a way of living a respectable life in normative, Brahminical Indian society.
What I do hope is that the advocates and judges present during the case recognize the need to revisit the binary, hetero-patriarchal norms that currently shape the laws in our constitution. There’s a lot more at stake that remains to be unpacked and debated before we can fully dive into conversations about marriage–but at this point, we’re fighting multiple fights, all at once.
What I did admire was the emphasis on the need to talk amongst ourselves and remain engaged as a community. I do think that more than embracing our diversity, we can sometimes forget to be understanding and inclusive of our own differences as individuals within the LGBTQ community, where we’re already quite isolated from the normative society, and don’t see sure on how to deal with marginalisation within the community. Being allies to each other’s causes remains a work in progress for our community—a reminder that solidarity within our movement is just as important as the battles we fight beyond it.
