India Today, May 5, 2003
For a city that has that more homosexuals than London and Paris put together, Mumbai’s gay subculture has been a very well-kept secret. R. Raj Rao’s The Boyfriend however, is telling all. When Yudi, a Nalla Supara living freelance journalist and out gay man finds himself in his 40’s, sex with strangers just doesn’t cut it for him anymore. Cruising through the first few chapters is an orgiastic overdose from Cuffe Parade to Kandvili that will leave you unable to see the lavatories of Churchgate station in the same way ever again. Certain parts of certain toilets, certain bogeys of certain trains, certain areas of certain parks stop being mere public facilities and come into view for what they are: forums for fevered homosexual activity, where all kinds of men - rich, poor, beggars and thieves - come to hustle other men. Some are seasoned old fags, some bright-eyed boywonders, and many, many others are married men taking a quick detour on their way home to their wives, their other lives.
Following Yudi through editor’s offices, art openings, filthy toilets and Testosterone - the one gay bar in the city - The Boyfriend submits an unsentimental Mumbai: a crazy, cruel layered and labyrinthine city, both physically and psychologically, full of cultural chaos and class conflict, where people stumble through their lives, making a buck, pushing their luck, looking for love in all the wrong places. Through the object of Yudi’s obsession - Milind Mahadik, a semi-literate office peon and Dalit boy half his age, the author takes
on an intimidating excess of huge contemporary Indian issues - class, cast, religion and masculinity. “Homos are no different from Bhangis. Both are Untouchables,” says Yudi, “I am a homosexual. Gay by caste. Gay by religion.” “Outcastes” he says, “can only expect to be friends with outcastes.”
But for all Yudi’s romantic theorizing, Milind does not belong to Yudis world and when Yudi realizes he can’t keep Milind with love alone, he does not hesitate to volunteer his purse. To add to the pathos, enter Gauri, whisky drinking, cigarette smoking aging artist, neurotically in love with Yudi. The Boyfriend though not always elegantly written (“parleying while dancing”, “smooching”, “sporting a yellow cap”) is persuasively told. “How could an affair that was based on deceit blossom into a thing of beauty?” asks the narrative, “Lies were what thieves spoke; gay love in India was based on lies.” At the end, The Boyfriend seems a real attempt at illustration for those who want to see more of Mumbai than Malabar Hill and Juhu, models and movie stars. With this book comes Nalla Sopari and Kandivili, the plumber and the peon: a worthwhile mirror for those who cannot leave a page unturned in search of a truer Mumbai.
© Tara Sahgal
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2 comments:
I tried to get a copy of the book. but I could not get it. I have read a few reviews of the book. But the Indian society will never wake up to the fact that gays exist here. It's deliberate attempt to keep the ear shut agaisnt the truth. But in a world where hetrosexuals are a substantial majority, Gays and Homosexuals will never be accepted. This book may be a brave attempt. I really want to read this.
I picked this book up at the Forum Mall the day I left Bangalore and finished it well before I arrived in Frankfurt. It's an excellent read, moving along quickly with an interesting style and subtle humor that kept my attention throughout the book. In a way, Yudi reminds me of Ignatius of 'Confederacy of Dunces' fame in the way his life spins out of control at times. I have not seen it in any bookstore here in the USA, perhaps you can get it online thru Amazon. But however you get your hands on a copy, I strongly recommend this book, it's a fun adventure.
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