A Riot of Colours

Life is full of unexpected surprises. One never knows what the day will bring and what new experiences await you. One fine morning, I got up to get ready for work and while I was scrolling on Facebook, I got a notification about my best friend attending an event on Saturday the 6^th of February 2016. It was the annual Queer Azaadi Mumbai Pride March.

I must admit that I always wanted to attend this event every year, but never got wind as to when it took place (seriously, I am still living in the Stone Age). Excited, I messaged my friend that I would be joining him. Making up excuses at work and to my siblings, I put on my best casual shirt and travelled all the way from Jogeshwari to be a part of this event (my friend came all the way from Ambernath).

Unfortunately, we met past four and missed out on the initial speeches and the excitement. When we finally reached August Kranti Maidan, the march had just begun.

My friend started jumping with happiness at the sight of the marchers walking ahead, gustily waving the giant Pride flag. He wanted to be a part of it – to walk under the flag and hold a part of it. I dissuaded him from doing so because I wanted us to walk at the very back. This offered me one more chance to gaze at all the brightly dressed people walking past us.

It was as if all the colours of the world had exploded around us. Everywhere I turned, I saw people waving the miniature Pride flags; some even having coloured their faces with it. People holding banners, all of them filled with quotes and inspiring slogans. People dressed flamboyantly, displaying their identities proudly, not having a care in the world.

It was when the ‘Yaariyan’ group walked past us, did we join the march.

As we walked on, I saw people from all walks of life walking together in the march. I saw parents holding “I am proud of my Gay child” placards, with their heads high and walking with their children proudly. People were wishing their friends “Happy Pride” when they met each other, college students chanting slogans and yells as they walked on. There were many people, standing on top of cables and parapets on the side of the streets, clicking pictures on their DSLRs and smiling at all the participants.

I was hesitant to leave my friend’s side. He desperately wanted to join the group dancing to the dhol beats ahead. I held him back as I was feeling very nervous, surrounded by so many fearless people. He persuaded me and in the end, I gave in. He joined the dancers and beckoned me to join them, while I watched him having the time of his life.

To be honest, I was fascinated by the strength of all these individuals. Humans, like you and me, have been branded LGBT by the “society” because of different identities. Personally, I feel sexuality should never be a criterion to label a person and be judged upon. Section 377 must be scrapped immediately from our country’s law and be done with it. India is a magnificent country filled with strange people. They are fine with rapists and murderers walking free, but will never accept a person, just because they don’t confine to societal rules and choose to love differently.

I will mention some slogans that I saw in the march today:

“Lesbian, Gay, Bi, it doesn’t matter. In the end, we all need money.”

“I am proud of my gay besy friends”

“I eat pussy and not animals”

“In the end, we are humans 2”

“Section 377, teri….”

It is indeed remarkable to witness the spirit and determination of the people in the Pride march to rid this country of discrimination. I saw couples holding hands and walking with smiles on their faces; a woman who had handcuffed herself and walking with her hands in the air and a resolute gleam in her eyes. When I walked in the march today, I was part of a collective consciousness, which believes in equality and love for all - that society can look past its hate and antiquated views to truly accept everyone.

But, just like everything, change has to happen at the grass-root level. When we both had stopped to buy a bottle of water near a restaurant on Lamington Road, I overheard an elderly man talking to his friend in disdain, “… if we don’t get to live our own ways, they too shall not get to live their own way.”

For a moment, I pondered what he actually meant. Was he referring to alternate lifestyles? Was he commenting on the point of being forced to accept alternate sexualities in our culture? Did he see this march as a sign of protest?

The march was in no way a protest. It is a celebration of the gift of life. It was accepting who you are and being proud about it. It was finding joy in your life and accepting love as the ultimate gift from God, which makes a person look past their hate and anger. I saw people walking around me with nothing but pride and joy on their faces. Their laughter, their pride became my source of inspiration. I made sure that my friend and I both danced to our heart’s content with the others as we continued to walk back to the maidan.

We even ran ahead to walk under the Pride flag and continued to dance to the sick beats of the dhol till the very end. I do not remember the last time I enjoyed going for a walk so much! I wanted to hug everyone present there, but chose to hug that one guy, who had a banner saying “Free Hugs”.

By the time, we reached the maidan, the balloons had been released and the march was declared over. We were heading back to our homes. But for just those two hours, I enjoyed being out with my friend and truly understand why the word “Pride” means so much.