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Queering films by watching them...

I got into a heated argument over a simple question: What makes a gay film good? The debate exploded when the film Dostana was referred to as a potential good gay film. “Oh please,” said one person “It’s the oldest trick in a filmmaker’s manual––get a straight man playing a straight hero to pretend to be gay and have everyone laugh at it. It’s exploitative comedy. That is not a standard for a good gay film.” Another said that the stereotype of the gay couple, one effeminate and the other macho, was upsetting because there may be many youngsters that might get the wrong idea about gay relationships. “But the scene where the mother accepts her pretend-gay son’s sexuality is a good one” said a third person, “You can get families to talk about gay sexuality with that.” However, the most violent argument was presented like this: “None of the leads are gay! This is not a gay film! Why do we need to argue about this?” These arguments are important reminders of how much distance mainstream Ind...
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Kleine Freiheit/ A Little Bit of Freedom (2003)

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Do you remember when a touch turned you into an identity? At what point of time in your childhood did a glance become desire? When I touched him I wasn’t sure I expressed a desire to touch. I lay next to him, passive, glancing, desiring to reach through that infinitesimal space between us and do something. Consume him completely. His bare chest rising with each breath, his eyes closed. I reached out, then, to stroke his face. He opened his eyes. He didn’t look at me. Understood, perhaps, the need not to look. Because that would become something, mean something, identify something. My dark brown skin caressed his fairness, down from his face to his neck and his chest. Ran my fingers down the young groove on his chest. Agonising…strokes across his erect nipples…lower, lower, reaching for meaning. He turned away from me and pulled back into my body, spooning. My fingers went lower and found him….enough There’s a bicycle ride that will bring me music and his smile. I am cared for... We ha...
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What does Ukhruling mean? Part 2

Ukhruling isn’t over. I was seriously sick when we reached. And everything was pitch black. I looked at the time on my mobile phone. 6.32pm. I’d woken up at 2.00am, travelled to BIAL (that’s 45 kms for those who care) to catch a 6.00am flight. Got into Kolkata and waited in the airport for two and a half hours. Took the flight to Imphal. And by road to the organisation for the next 4 hours. I’d travelled for almost 17 hours non-stop. No record this. More lengths have been travelled by many who have weaker constitutions than I. But the winding roads done damaged me for hours. I’m not a girl built for such travels, I’m not. In the city now. Driving by, with my city idiot staring-looks. Holi holidays. Five days of it. The petrol bunks, already few are closed. “If they’re open, they get beseiged with groups asking for donations for the festival”. And outside each petrol bunk is a curious thing. Groups of women, four or five per petrol bunk, each sitting there by herself with four or five o...
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What does Ukhruling mean?

This is Ukhrul. This is Manipur. This is an NGO. The only NGO I’ve seen, where you’re not left gasping for fresh air after they’ve done their let’s-do-a-song-during-a-break session. They must be church trained choir singers. All of them. Yes, all of them. They sing with perfect pitch and the long-years of practice shows. I am moved – it is only hymns they sing from a stock book of hymns that the conductor (yes, they had one of the participants conduct their song sessions) holds in his hand; and they sang in the local tribal tongue – but I am moved all the same. There were only three women. When MP prepared to suggest that there was only this one problem with the group, they pre-empted her and stated that it wasn’t for the lack of trying. As opposed to those groups who complain “but the president of our kitchen is a woman!” etc. This is a group that is aware of their flaws and their strengths. Cool. They resent us. “What you see in India, is not what you see here…” This is not India. Ha...
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Grand Ecole (2003) France; Robert Salis (Director)

Grande Ecole is an ordinary French film with a message that people don't ordinarily care about. The potential for love is explored so interestingly in this film that I wondered if it was just because it's a French film, or if this was a particular philosophy of relationships being explored by Salis, the director. It appears to be a bit of both. The story begins with Paul, who is a student who has just joined a private school and moves in with two of his classmates, rather than with Agnes, his long-term girlfriend. He finds himself increasingly attracted to and obsessed with his housemate Louis, an upper-class cocky athlete, sure of himself and conscious of the effect he has on Paul. But Louis is not interested, he isn't gay or even interested in experimenting. Agnes however, does notice and proposes competing for Louis's affection. If Paul gets Louis, Agnes promises to leave him, but if Agnes gets Louis, she suggesets that Paul should stop exploring his sexuality. ...
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Loneliness

sounds i can hear the sounds of the dying stars leave the valley and I know the sound of leaving is the sound of dying a room of one's own i sit alone in this room with a mind in tatters and only see the torn fabric of my sanity. moving? and so then but if not may it be to being. Envy Can you hear the sound of my dreams shattering like fake glass? Brokeback two men slept side by side on that mountain and caressed the emptiness between them Dancing the music isn’t important I’m consumed by the beats and half-beats of new songs i hear them laughing. such happiness. i'm surrounded by these men. these men. these men. and i dance alone.
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When men leave

it’s over yet again we learn how affection fails and proves that the smugness you wear on your face is easily wiped out in a warm room with three minutes of conversation. and it’s over. where have all the men gone? when men leave our beds do they ask ‘what else can we wreck before we go to sleep tonight?’ It isn’t over he was here a while ago and said it wasn’t working for him. I said goodbye And waited for him to leave. He hasn’t. Yet. possibilities do you think it possible that someone else will sing your song? someone else will make you weep into your food every evening? some other will make rejection seem like a rush job at the end of a gruelling week? some other man will make you sit down and write this? and still I haven’t told him that the last time this happened to me I stood out And let the cruel rain Stab my eyes For a long time. And still it rains. best days the best days we've left behind are born every second as painful memories i only asked for more i asked for nothi...
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They said love was forever

nowhere new I embraced nothing I awoke and remembered I am nowhere new. so love is forever, huh? have you been in love thirteen times and were absolutely certain, this is it. Oh, and this other one. And this one, as well. when he called he said he wanted to speak to me i told him speak he said that the conversation could not be had over a telephone i have a feeling loneliness will call on me tonight
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