Same-Sex Love in India is a study of consummated and unconsummated sexual relationships between men and between women as found in texts written over the ages. And what better place to start than with the Mahabharata and the examination of Krishna and Arjuna’s friendship? The book treads warily here and elsewhere but there is no getting away from the fact that we are examining the prevalence of homosexuality in India, latent or otherwise. The editors and the publishers probably wish to camouflage this through a convoluted title so as not to arouse the wrath of the Sangh Parivar.
The two editors, Ruth Vanita and Saleem Kidwai, have put together a remarkably well-researched book. Both taught at Delhi University and have now moved on. Their efforts are all the more commendable since the more interesting and informative pieces have been written by them. They quickly rubbish the myth that homosexuality was introduced in India by "foreigners", that boy prostitution, eunuchs and anal sex appeared with Muslim rule. While it is true that buggery was rampant among the nobles in the Mughal courts, our sexual behaviour and preferences were quite uninhibited even before that period.
When Shiv Sena goons attacked theatres showing Deepa Mehta’s film Fire for its lesbian scenes, Bal Thackeray claimed that "such things are not part of Indian culture". The fact is that a number of Hindu mythological figures and some of our most revered saints were homo-erotically inclined. Vatsyayana’s Kamasutra has male servants performing oral sex on their masters. There is a lot going in Mahabharata and the Ramayana that would raise eyebrows today.
Vanita and Kidwai point out that Indian culture tends to be more shame culture than guilt culture. One can do practically anything as long as one does not bring shame to the family. Having a child outside marriage is strongly disapproved of, premarital pregnancies almost always end in abortion or giving away the child in adoption. We generally disapprove of boys meeting girls before marriage.
But we are tolerant of same-sex friendship even when it is homosexual. There is no strong objection to homosexuality before or during marriage as long as it is not overt. That would bring shame to the family. Homosexuals in India find it easier to have sex than unmarried heterosexuals. They can be more easily alone together without creating suspicion. We take it for granted that individuals will spend much of their leisure time with persons of their own sex even if they are not homosexual. You see that in cinema halls, clubs and even on holidays. It is not shocking to us to see men holding hands in public. That wouldn’t happen in western societies unless the friendship is homosexual.
Vanita and Kidwai point out that there is a downside to this. A same-sex relationship is tolerated, even approved, as long as it masquerades as non-sexual and does not conflict with marriage. If you bring home a bride and produce offsprings, parents don’t really care what you do with your boyfriend. Just don’t flaunt it. Homosexuals marry heterosexually and lead double lives.
Indian cinema has displayed an overwhelming interest in bonding between males. In Chaudhvin Ka Chand, the Guru Dutt and Rehman characters have more going between them than with Waheeda Rehman. Raj Kapoor and Rajendra Kumar virtually ignore Vyjanthimala in Sangam. Its most popular song is about dost not remaining dost. The bonding between Dharmendra and Amitabh Bachchan in Sholay is so strong that the film has a cult following among homosexuals. Dil Chahta Hai is a recent film with homosexual overtones. The three women in the film are mere appendages in the lives of the three men. In a sense we are less homophobic than the West as long as the family order is not disturbed.
Readers who are unfamiliar with Sanskrit, Persian and Urdu will find the translations of obscure ancient and medieval texts in Same-Sex Love in India valuable. The editors and the translators have produced something that is readable, with important tidbits of information and useful annotations. One of the book’s drawbacks is that south Indian literature has been virtually ignored. I was also not enthused by some of the modern texts. Vikram Seth’s poem doesn’t serve much purpose except that it brings in a well-known name.
Still, I was glad to read Bhupen Khakhar’s gem of a short story in which two men and a woman mask their three-way relationship and live together happily ever after. I did not know that the renowned painter is also a gifted writer of Gujarati fiction and drama. He came out of the closet when the death of his mother in 1980 allowed him a new freedom.
