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The Hindu
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Hindu
Beyond Pride Month: The rise of year-round queer spaces in India
Beyond the glitter and thump of Pride Month celebrations in June, a quieter shift is underway — one that privileges community over spectacle, and continuity over occasion. Across India, queer collectives are carving out spaces that extend well beyond mixers and parties. From screenwriting labs and running groups to performance venues and drop-in studios, these initiatives are shaping a more grounded, durable form of solidarity. What binds them is not only the promise of visibility but the deeper work of nurturing queer voices — through skill-building, peer-led workshops, or simply the chance to gather without expectation. These are not one-off events; they are sustained invitations to belong. Casual gathering as care In Mumbai, that ethos is most evident in the quiet energy of Gaysi Family's new studio space in Khar. 'One basic need I've understood even today is that people just want to meet more queer people,' says Sakshi Juneja, co-founder of the longstanding media and community platform, which was founded in 2008. 'Whether for friendship or intimacy, that's the driving force.' Since opening 13 months ago, the studio has become one of the city's few open-to-all queer drop-in zones — no entry fee, no dress code of cool. The programming is gentle and regular: film screenings, acting workshops, and short film showcases. 'Especially for younger lesbian, bisexual, trans, and non-binary folks, where money is tighter, it was important we create a space without that economic barrier,' says Sakshi. Anyone can propose a workshop or event, and the 35–40 seat studio offers itself up, no fanfare needed. 'We announce something every few Saturdays —screenings, art evenings, open mics — and it keeps us connected to the next generation of queers.' Stories with staying power Launched in 2023 by The Queer Muslim Project with support from the Netflix Fund for Creative Equity, QueerFrames is one of the few dedicated creative incubators for queer storytellers across South Asia. The lab emerged from a 2022 convening in Nepal — co-hosted with the Goethe-Institut — that interrogated narrative access and artiste support in the region. 'We're not just training writers, we're building a long-term pipeline for queer storytelling,' says Rafiul Alom Rahman, founder of the project. 'The idea is to create structural change so that queer artistes aren't only visible during Pride Month, but have sustained access to resources, networks, and industry platforms.' The first cohort, focussed on short films, brought together 10 writer-directors from India for a residency in Mumbai. Since then, at least three projects have entered production; one received the Kashish Q Drishti grant. In 2024, the lab expanded to fiction features, closing with a five-day immersion at Berlin's European Film Market. Now in its third year, QueerFrames welcomes eight new participants from India, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka (with applications open till July at in a hybrid programme that centres script development and regional solidarity. Recent recognition for alumni Zena Sagar and Ashutosh Shankar's Tara — selected for Frameline, San Francisco's LGBTQ+ film festival — suggests that this slower, behind-the-scenes work is starting to shift the landscape. Creating retreat Outside the urban grid, other initiatives are focussing less on production and more on presence. In McLeodganj, Albela House has evolved into a sanctuary in the hills — run by Dehradun native Akash Aggarwal and his partner Manish Thapa, now based in Bengaluru. The boutique stay does not operate as an explicitly queer venue, but its politics is clear. 'It's about creating access for queer people to take up space, to see themselves reflected in art, and to feel held,' says Manish. Since its inception, Albela has hosted intimate film screenings (Sheer Qorma by Faraz Arif Ansari), theatre readings, and drag performances. In 2023, the couple launched the Rainbow Mountain Festival — a three-day retreat of workshops in mental health, storytelling, movement and performance. Its second edition in April 2024 expanded to 18 sessions, all queer-led, with full-board meals and local transport included. Next, they are developing Casa Albela in Bengaluru: a space designed from the ground up to be structurally queer-affirming. 'One of the biggest issues queer organisers face is finding safe, affirming venues in cities,' says Manish. 'We wanted to build something that doesn't just tolerate queerness, but centres it.' The city as stage This idea that queer culture thrives not just through protest but in steady, unshowy participation is echoed in Kolkata, where third-generation restaurateur Anand Puri has turned Tavern Behind Trincas (TBT) into a quietly significant venue. Located behind the iconic Trincas restobar on Park Street, TBT did not begin as a queer project. But through programming shaped in collaboration with it has become one of the city's consistent queer-affirmative stages. In 2023, Karaoke Thursdays evolved into a weekly ritual. Inspired by the space's embrace of subculture, TBT has also started spotlighting regional Bengali music and the city's emerging hip-hop community. 'Give respect, get respect. That's the universal law here,' says Anand, whose year-round Pride flag is more visible than the restaurant's own name. Walking with memory Elsewhere, the work of cultural restoration takes on a more literal form. In Mumbai, Vikram Phukan's promenade-style production Postcards from Colaba (started in 2022), which is usually performed from October to March, guides audiences through the city's historic lanes, weaving in stories of queer desire, displacement, and coded visibility. Adapted to Goa in 2023, the project became more than a play; it evolved into a storytelling format — part theatre, part walking tour, part quiet insistence that queer histories belong in public space. Similar ideas animate the Delhi Queer Heritage Walk, a collective that has been organising guided walks since 2018. These are not just tours — they are exercises in reclaiming cities. From the intimate relationships in Mughal courts to the legal erasure under British rule, these walks surface what has been forgotten or deliberately concealed. They are small, public acts of resistance. Running with purpose And in Bengaluru, resistance looks like lacing up your shoes. Founded in 2021, Bangalore Front Runners (BFR) is India's first chapter of the global Front Runners network, a queer running collective active in cities around the world. What started with a dozen runners has grown into a Sunday morning ritual. Every Sunday, over 50 queer and allied runners meet at Cubbon Park. Seasoned runners complete 10–12K routes; newcomers join a 5K initiative. Post-run breakfasts are just as integral — part cool-down, part community care. 'We wanted something that went beyond the clubbing scene,' says founder Gourav Tarafdar. 'There was a real need for accessible, open queer sports spaces.' These initiatives are not easily pinned to a season. What they offer is a future where queer life is less about marking presence on a calendar, and more about cultivating belonging in everyday time.
Mint
14-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Mint
A new anthology of writings from south Asia celebrates marginalised voices
Writer Kazim Ali begins his introduction to On the Brink, an anthology of queer writing from South Asia, with a question: 'Why the word 'queer' when that is a word others have used to describe us and not always kindly?" Recently, a bench of the Madras High Court echoed the same sentiment recently while delivering a judgment: 'Any standard dictionary defines this word as meaning 'strange or odd.' To a homosexual individual, his/her/their sexual orientation must be perfectly natural and normal... Why then should they be called queer?" Over the centuries, the word assumed various shades of meaning, but it was during the 20th century that it began to be claimed by people who broke sexual norms. Members of the Bloomsbury set in London used it liberally, especially writer Virginia Woolf, who turned it into a pun for homosexuals as well as eccentrics. Also read: Jane Austen's novels are both a mirror and a map for Gen Z and millennials The political notion of being queer, Ali goes on to explain, refers to the umbrella of identities and genders that belong to the LGBTQ+ community, including people who are questioning, curious and non-binary. Speaking for himself, Ali says, 'I am 'queer' for two reasons—because I am gay and because my body—a half-Pakistani body by law if not by blood or ancestry—lies outside the mainstream of what the mother country now considers acceptable." By radically extending the definition of queer beyond its familiar connotations of sexual and gender identities, Ali sets the tone for the diverse voices that feature in this anthology. The contributors come from India, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Nepal and Pakistan, along with writers from other parts of the world who mentored them in workshops organised by The Queer Muslim Project (TQMP) in 2023-24. Founded in 2017, TQMP celebrates the power of queer storytellers from underrepresented communities in South Asia. Also read: 'Deviants' book review: How generations of men navigated being queer in India The intersection of religion, politics and identity in their lives adds layers of complexity to their writing, bringing out nuances that aren't always visible in the mainstream. Even as the pieces deal with questions of faith and sexuality, they aren't just psychological triggers. Rather, these themes allow for eclectic experiments with form and style. The first anthology of queer writing in India, Yaarana, edited by Hoshang Merchant, came out in 2011. The fact that it was subtitled Gay Writing from India and mostly had men from privileged backgrounds acting as representatives of an inherently heterogenous community of people should give us a sense of the many miles LGBTQ+ activism in South Asia has travelled in the realm of arts and culture in the last two decades. Thanks to the efforts of entities like TQMP, as also encouraged by the decriminalisation of LGBTQ+ people in India, we have a generation of writers who are speaking out loudly and proudly about the uniqueness of their lived experiences. The best part is that their stories don't dwell solely on the trials of their sexual and gender identities (though there are several of those, too). Rather, they grapple with the quotidian realities of being in love, or pursuing a love interest, the heartbreak that comes from rejection or at the end of a relationship—feelings that can affect any human being, queer or not. In Birat Bijay Ojha's story, Darjeeling and Desires, the protagonist Nabin sets out on an impromptu trip to Darjeeling with Bikash, a stranger he meets on a dating app. The two men indulge their mutual attraction with gleeful abandon. 'Body mine, and body his, as fate would have it found faith in each other," Nabin says, the pun on fate-faith deliciously capturing the wicked freedom of being who they are. Also read: A Bengali adaption of 'Hamlet' takes the stage in Kolkata In a darker piece, How to Start a Romance Novel, Darius Stewart describes a betrayal, as imagined by the protagonist in aching detail. Sorrow Letters by Rukman Ragas is presented as a break-up email, cleverly punctuated with scholarly commentary. Some of the best pieces in the collection are by Amama Bashir—subtle, angular, yet also delicately humane. In Nissa, a mother-daughter relationship is pitched against the gendered norms of the society they live in. Hassan Bhai, told from two contrasting perspectives, is a sharp insight into what it means to be gay and working class, especially when your religion considers it a sin. In Darling, Kiran Kumar gives us a glimpse into another moment of parental reckoning as a father is faced with a lesbian couple playing professional cricket on TV. While most of the pieces bring with them maturity and gravitas, a couple of entries sit somewhat uncomfortably. Adnan Sheikh's The Beauty and Complexity of Being Queer and Muslim, earnest and heartfelt as it is, reads like a college application essay rather than a fully marinated piece of creative writing. The poetic experiments by Knecho, a Bangladeshi writer, don't always land, either in terms of form or content. Be that as it may, the weaker pieces are more than compensated by the queer brilliance of the best ones, such as Maggie Millner's beautifully melancholic poems. The book will be on sale later this month. Also read: 'Night in Delhi' book review: Sex, sleaze and some Shakespeare
