Chitra Palekar is loved and admired unequivocally across India’s vibrant LGBTQIA+ community. The theatre veteran and author, was one of the first people to accept her lesbian daughter way back in 1993, inspiring many parents to do the same.

In a deeply gendered society, parents often get their first inkling of their child’s homosexuality when they notice decidedly campy behavioural traits. Therefore, most parents begin to suspect their son is gay if he displays feminine behaviour, or that their daughter is a lesbian if she like sporting short hair and masculine clothes. This is hugely problematic as it perpetuates unhealthy gender stereotypes. Luckily, Chitra was more intellectually evolved.

“I was also what some people would call ‘tomboyish’. I wore shorts, had short hair and played table tennis. So, when my daughter did the same, I had no reason to suspect she was a lesbian,” says Chitra. “She did not like toys, she picked up books, just like I used to. I did not ‘notice’ anything because there was nothing to ‘notice’ in my child’s behaviour,” she explains. “When my daughter came out to me, I accepted her instantly. What’s not to accept. I love my child,” she says.

Her daughter Shalmalee also helped Chitra gain greater understanding. “This was when there was no internet, so my daughter would give me books to read. I went a long way in helping me understand how natural it was for my daughter to feel the way she did,” she explains.

But Chitra’s real journey began after her daughter had moved abroad. “Back in the day, I had no real contact with any parents. I interacted with the kids at their meets and events where I gatecrashed,” she says. Chitra also interacted a lot with Vikram Doctor and Shobhana S. Kumar, who she credits with helping her chart and navigate her journey as a committed ally of the community.

“Vikram opened my eyes to so many things I could not see earlier. Shobhana hand held me through my journey, helping me understand correct terms, taking me to events, bringing me closer to members of the community,” says the septuagenarian who is still as enthusiastic as a seven-year-old. “I needed to learn the correct words so empathy does not disappear. I committed myself to empowering myself with all the correct information,” she says.

Gradually these interactions inspired Chitra to take the next step. “I was curious about the journey of other parents. Their experiences with their children coming out and how they dealt with family and social pressure afterwards. So, I got together with like minded people to chalk out a strategy to help them,” she says explaining the genesis of Sweekar: The Rainbow Parents.

Filmmaker Sridhar Rangayan and activist Harish Iyer were always keen on building a community of parents and creating a safe space for them to share their experiences and learn from each other. “I wanted this to actually mean something. One cannot have a superficial approach to something this serious, so discussions went on for months. There were psychologists, other experienced parents of queer children, such as Aruna Desai, Padma Vishwanath, Nilakshi Roy and many others committed to help scared, worried, anxious parents,” she says.

“We started by educating them about the correct terminology. So many people were confused about what is bisexual and what is intersex. We created a safe space and encouraged parents to ask questions without fear of judgment,” she says.

Chitra explains the objectives of Sweekar saying, “Sweekar is about support, acceptance and empowerment. We have made a conscious decision to never out a parent against their will. We maintain complete confidentiality,” she says.

On January 26, in the run up to the Queer Azaadi March, Sweekar held a parents’ meet where parents and their queer children narrated their stories. At this meet Chitra read out the Preamble, encouraging the audience to repeat the words after her. “I want to help the community integrate with society. So, it is important to make mainstream issues also relevant to the community. What better way to inculcate values of freedom, democracy and inclusion than to take the community through the vision of our founding fathers,” says Chitra.

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Last week,I attended, with Sweekar parents, Padma Aiyer andRakesh Sharma from Mumbai and VibhaBatra from Delhi, a conference in Delhi. (For those who are not aware, ‘Sweekar: the Rainbow Parents’ is a group founded by parents of LGBT children, to encourage and support other such parents to accept their children)
 
The two day conference was organised by Humsafar, Delhi branch under a project called CONNECT. This project was started to facilitate interaction of the community with the stakeholders, both at the government level and NGOs; connect LGBT groups in various smaller cities and towns; exchange information; encourage groups to start small-budget projects etc.
 
The participants were members of the LGBT community -leaders and activists, both old and young – as well as stakeholders – representatives from NACO, NITI AAYOG, UNAIDS, KPMG etc.
 
In each session, speakers highlighted the concerns of their own local groups… projects started and action taken; challenges faced; success achieved; future goals and the needs (mainly funding) to reach those goals!
 
The speakers were wonderfully articulate and we, the Sweekar parents were amazed to see how people from the community are working at so many levels, all over India, to get visibility, acceptance, justice in every area… And also, how many allies are strongly supporting the Cause.
 
It was indeed a very rewarding experience!
 
In our session, we talked about how and with what intention Sweekar was formed… how the parents felt the need to have correct information about their children’s world… how Alpana and her team designed a training program of six modules called Prabal (Strong), based on the parents’ needs, and conducted these workshops under Humsafar and finally, how Prabal impacted and benefited all the parent participants.
 
We also shared our individual acceptance stories.
 
Later, many young persons shared that despite being activists, they still had not fully come out to their parents. Many who had come out, requested Alpana to have Prabal training for parents in their cities. But there was a particular response to our session,which was so overwhelming that it took me completely by surprise.
 
Amongst the participants were very high profile trans-women activists (belonging to hijda community), who had impressed me with their vision, clear thinking and forceful arguments.Many of them had tears in their eyes while listening to our stories and one could not stop crying for hours. Our acceptance and love for our children had triggered memories of being rejected by their own parents 20/25 years ago…and what they had gone through! These confident, strong trans-women revealed the hurt, injured, abused children within them.
 
Padma and I spent a lot of time talking and consoling them. We have gained so many new friends now!!
 
It was one of the most moving and emotional experiences in my life!
 
RELATED ARTICLE :

1. ChitraPalekar on ‘Aligarh’
2. Web series ‘Still About Section 377’ explores social acceptance of the LGBTQ community
3. ‘Majoritarian Views, Popular Morality Cannot Dictate Constitutional Rights.’ After 157 Years, Gay Sex Law Is Erased
4. Humsafar Trust recounts how Sec 377 was used to harass, extort and blackmail

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  At Chabildas hall, discussing future of theatre

         

In her famed mother roles

On the evening of June 4, I was stunned to get the news that Sulabha Deshpande, a doyenne of theatre and films, had passed away. At the beginning of the year, I’d met her at a function of her theatre group Aavishkar. She did look frail but when we chatted, she seemed like her usual self and not like someone who was unwell. Soon after I went abroad for a while, so didn’t know that she was seriously ill.  It was difficult to sleep that night as old memories kept flooding my mind. They still do.
 
I first heard about Sulabha in the early 1960s through her younger sister Asha Kamerkar, who acted with a group of people known to my family. It was Asha who told me about Rangaayan, the group that was formed by like-minded theatre activists to give a new, modern direction to Marathi theatre.
 
The group’s main pillars were Vijaya Mehta, Vijay Tendulkar and Arvind Despande, Sulabha’s husband, while Sulabha was one of its lead actresses. I also remember Asha proudly telling me about her sister’s brilliant performance in a play called Badha. At the time, besides studies all my free hours were taken up by competitive table tennis. So despite my interest in theatre, I had not seen Sulabha perform on stage.
 
The opportunity to meet her came in 1967, when Satyadev Dubey cast me in the Hindi version of Girish Karnad’s now well-known play Yayati. It was my first play in serious theatre. Except me, the entire cast– consisting of Amrish Puri, Tarla Mehta, Sunila Pradhan, Dubey himself and Sulabha –was highly experienced.
 
So when I reached Sydenham College for my first rehearsal, I was very nervous. Then I saw Sulabha sitting quietly in a corner, intently watching while Puri Saab and Tarlaben did a scene. I was shocked to see that Sulabha seemed more like a conscientious drama student than the diva that I had imagined for years.
 
The moment we were introduced, she gave me a warm, beautiful smile that lit up her face and I instantly relaxed. “Just call me Sulabha,” she said to me, and added with a twinkle in her highly expressive eyes, “no need to attach tai or bai after it.” And that’s what she was to me for half a century –Sulabha. Not a distant actress, but a friend.
 
In the next few years I came to know Sulabha well in her professional as well as personal capacity. When Dubey cast us both in Ibsen’s Ghosts, the long rehearsals at Walchand Terrace with Sulabha were like practical acting lessons for me… a wonderful demonstration of what Dubey explained about diction, projection, finding motivation or emoting. I saw how she developed a character through its emotional graph, rather than through external mannerisms.

The opportunity to meet her came in 1967, when Satyadev Dubey cast me in the Hindi version of Girish Karnad’s now well-known play Yayati. It was my first play in serious theatre. Except me, the entire cast– consisting of Amrish Puri, Tarla Mehta, Sunila Pradhan, Dubey himself and Sulabha –was highly experienced.

 
I also realized that though by nature she was a strong instinctive actress, she could combine the emotional approach with the cerebral one. Her performances, on stage as well as on screen, seemed extremely natural and spontaneous, but they were well thought-out and controlled.
 
I was curious to hear from her about her previous work with Dubey but she was too unassuming – a quality she retained all her life – and did not like to talk much about herself. I had to find about her highly praised performances in Band Darwaze (No Exit by Sartre) and as Gandhari in Dharmaveer Bharati’s Andhaa Yug, through photos and reviews lying scattered in dusty trunks at Walchand Terrace.
 
After Ghosts, I never had a chance to act with her again, but we met often. When Dubey trained me as Manasi in Badal Sircar’s iconic play Evam Indrajit, Sulabha was directing Tendulkar’s Shantata Court Chalu Ahe in Hindi for Theatre Unit. Sulabha scheduled her rehearsal after mine, so I usually stayed back to watch it.
 
I found her to be a very relaxed director who handled her cast of both senior and new actors with confidence. I had not seen the original Marathi play, so had missed seeing Sulabha in the central role of Miss Benare, which had brought her major accolades.
 
The Hindi version Chup, Court Chalu Hai at last made up for it. During the same period, she recommended my name to Arvind Deshpande for a play called Lobh Nasaava Hee Vinantee that he was directing. Translated from a foreign play by Tendulkar, it was Rangaayan’s entry for the State Drama Competition.
 
This was my debut in Marathi experimental theatre, and it became a turning point in my career as well as life… all thanks to Sulabha!
 
The following years saw Rangaayan develop cracks. Arvind, Sulabha and Kakade Kaka left it to form Avishkaar. However, Theatre Unit now had a home in Walchand Terrace, which had become a regular adda, – like Prithvi Theatre in later years – for people in experimental theatre.

I was shocked to see that Sulabha seemed more like a conscientious drama student than the diva that I had imagined for years.

So, I kept meeting Sulabha there. Many times I even went to her house for a play reading, or for the post-mortem cum party after the first performance. What I remember is that when we met one on one Sulabha not only chatted affectionately, but would also tease, joke and laugh a lot.
 
However at the theatre parties, she was invariably reserved. She was a great cook and hostess. But while everyone talked nineteen to the dozen and argued vociferously -especially after drinks –Sulabha remained silent, at times literally merging with the background.
 
Her transformation puzzled me. But I slowly realized that if she remained calm and quiet during these gatherings,it was not because she was inhibited or had nothing to say, but because she preferred to speak only when people were in a condition to listen and grasp what she said!! Her core was so strong that she did not need to exhibit it.
 
However, she did demonstrate her strength when it was needed – during the controversial break up from Rangaayan to start Aavishkar from scratch, or when Arvind suddenly passed away, leaving her to look after their personal as well as theatre families.
 
When Chabildas School suddenly asked Aavishkar to vacate their premises, giving a terrible jolt to the Marathi experimental theatre and effectively ending what was known as the Chabildas Movement, Sulabha never gave up.
 
Against all odds she managed to get space in a Municipal school in Mahim, so that the theatre activity of Aavishkar and other experimental groups could continue. Being a school teacher for a long time, Sulabha was very interested in Children’s Theatre.
 
Arguably her greatest contribution has been Chandrashala, the children’s branch of Aavishkar. Through theatre/dance workshops as well as actual performances, Chandrashala trained generations of children, many of whom went on to shine in theatre and films.
 
The Marathi film Shantata Court Chaalu Ahe made by Satyadev Dubey and Govind Nehalani in 1971 was Sulabha’s first film, and though not used to the camera, she was simply brilliant in it as Miss Benare. In the film, Sulabha’s playful actions, teasing tone, mischievous expression– all of which are actually a cover up for the protagonist’s inner misery – are completely unaffected; without an iota of self-consciousness. I only wish she had shown more anger and less self-pity in the last soliloquy. Otherwise, the performance was faultless.
 

Arguably her greatest contribution has been Chandrashala, the children’s branch of Aavishkar. Through theatre/dance workshops as well as actual performances, Chandrashala trained generations of children, many of whom went on to shine in theatre and films.

Sulabha’s film debut coincided with the rise of the alternate cinema movement and she appeared in a number of these films, mostly in the role of the mother. I remember seeing and liking most of these films. However, I hardly remember Sulabha’s roles in them. The exception is that of Shyam Benegal’s Bhumika, where she plays Smita’s mother. There is a hint in the film that this character has had an affair with her son-in-law. Sulabha is able to convey all the nuances of this complex relationship even without dialogue, mainly through her silent presence and eyes. Shantata… and Bhumika show Sulabha’s vast range as an actress. I have not seen Sulabha’s later films/serials either in Marathi or Hindi, so cannot say whether any of these have done justice to her irrefutable talent.
 
Sulabha was not merely a reputed actor/director who had won many honours. She was also a great human being who, despite her limited resources, made a huge difference in people’s lives – especially children’s – by providing a platform to express their creativity; by constant encouragement and support; by offering love and friendship. Though physically no more, Sulabha will continue to live in their hearts and mine, always.
 
 
 (The writer is a mother, actor and director of theatre and cinema; The photos were carefully accessed by the author from the archives of Aavishkar and also from social media)

    
Directing Children's Plays

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The story, as most people know by now, is about a much respected academic who was hounded out of not only his job but also his life by a homophobic system. I felt that the extremely sensitive and nuanced treatment of the story, especially that of the central character professor Siras played brilliantly by Manoj Bajpayee, makes this film groundbreaking and iconic in the Indian context. It may be the first time that a gay person is not shown as someone obsessed only with sex, but is portrayed as a human being with many aspects to his life! Bajpayee conveys each and every aspect most convincingly. Professor Siras is good at his profession, loves poetry and music, enjoys a drink in his own home, and leads a quiet life. Being neither effeminate nor flamboyant, he is a contrast to the clichéd perception of a gay man! In fact, except for his sexuality, in every other way he is an epitome of ‘mainstream middleclass respectability’.

Professor Siras is not an activist. He knows no labels, not even the word ‘gay’! Yet he considers his homosexuality natural. He neither questions it nor feels guilty. He simply calls it ‘my urge’, and when asked to analyse, says it is like poetry or music—an intrinsic part of his being! The delicate and sensitive way in which Bajpayee delivered these lines was extremely touching.

In the above context, there is a sequence which I’d particularly like to mention. Deepu, a young journalist, is following Siras’s story. At one point in the film, there is an intimate scene between him and a female colleague. While watching it, what struck me was that the characters, full of lust, are standing against a wall in a cramped public space, furtively groping each other—the sleazy manner in which ‘gay sex’ has often been shown in films.

From this scene, director Hansal Mehta cuts to Professor Siras in his own bedroom with the rickshawala, whom he refers to as a friend. Siras kisses his friend’s face and body so shyly and gently, so lovingly that while watching it I had tears in my eyes. This was a beautiful cinematic moment for me. The contrast between the above two scenes speaks volumes for love between persons of same sex. It also reminds us that ironically, it is this very love in the privacy of his own home that caused the hounding of the professor and destroyed his life! To me, the sequence was no longer about sex. It was about injustice.

However, I must say that the sensitive handling of a gay subject was not the only reason that I liked the film. Right from the first scene, the film gripped me and till the end the tension never slacked. The credit for this goes especially to Manoj Bajpayee who has completely immersed himself into the character of Siras. His eyes, face, gestures, all express innumerable, complex emotions—the anger and fear when attacked; the bewilderment at being accused of something he considers natural; the hurt at being abandoned by friends and colleagues; the serene enjoyment of music and whisky; the overpowering loneliness and finally the joy when Deepu befriends him. I have rarely seen such a complete, performance! (Thank you Manoj for the unforgettable experience!)

In other technical aspects too I found the film good. And, if a few minor things jarred me a bit—for example, the forced cheeriness of Deepu in his office or the shrill voice of the public prosecutor—Bajpayee’s performance and the overall impact pushed these to the background.
Through professor Siras’s life, Aligarh succeeds in conveying many problems that gay persons confront all the time—especially the prejudice and hostility resulting from being considered an immoral, corrupting influence. This hostility prevails not only in the society but in all the systems too. And it results in homosexuals being denied their fundamental rights to privacy and dignity.

Professor Siras does not make big demands. But he wants his colleagues to realise that he is the same person whom they had always respected. Yet, even the colleague who is friendly and wishes to help Siras finally abandons him due to social pressure. One of the poignant moments in the film for me was when Siras says, ‘When I retire, I want to go to America. People like me can live with dignity there.’ What a sad comment on our inclusiveness!

Aligarh appeals directly to our emotions and more importantly, to our sense of justice. Slowly, the film goes beyond the story of a gay person and becomes the story of any human being who is different from the majority, or how an unjust, prejudicial system tries to destroy an individual it does not approve of in any way.

This makes the film highly relevant and important in today’s times. Finally, it is a human interest story which I hope will be seen by everyone whose conscience speaks against injustice in any form.

What if . . . considering Chitra’s daughter is an academic . . .
When I signed the Parents Petition to the Supreme Court for maintaining the reading down of Article 377, I had given an affidavit mentioning my various concerns as a parent of a lesbian daughter. One of the points I made was about discrimination at the work place. I said that my daughter was a professor in a college. Because of Article 377, the tag of criminality was attached to her. Although it seemed merely theoretical, in actuality this tag hung over her head like a Damocles’ Sword. In case of a complaint from a homophobic person, despite all her achievements and popularity, there was a real danger of blackmail, suspension, and the loss of dignity. Worse, being considered a criminal meant she could not appeal to the courts for justice.

That such things did not take place was my daughter’s sheer good fortune. Now she is abroad and, as an academic, does not have to hide her orientation. She has legal rights and lives a life of dignity and respect—what Professor Siras craved—but the film Aligarh brought back all those old memories, validating my apprehensions at the time. The irony is that Professor Siras’s story took place in 2010, when sex between consenting same-sex adults in private was no longer a crime.

Aligarh appeals directly to our emotions and more importantly, to our sense of justice. Slowly, the film goes beyond the story of a gay person and becomes the story of any human being who is different from the majority, or how an unjust, prejudicial system tries to destroy an individual it does not approve of in any way.

At the end of the film, there is a line that there was poison found in Siras’s blood but the police said it was not foul play! Despite the law on his side, the prejudice victimised Prof. Siras. I cannot think what can happen today, when homosexuality has been re-criminalised.

Why does Chitra do the work of sensitising people even if her daughter does not live in India?
Initially my interest in understanding LGBT people was to understand my own daughter. When she told me she was a lesbian, I felt that sexuality may be just one aspect of a person’s life, but it is also a very important part of one’s identity and being. Since I loved her, I did not want to be alienated from that part of her being. So I started reading about the subject, meeting her LGBT friends, and so on. As I came to know more and more people from the community, I began to realise their concerns.

My daughter, on coming out, was accepted by our family and friends. But a large number of people I met were not so fortunate. Their families had rejected them due to social and religious pressures. Many people hid their sexuality because of the fear of rejection and backlash. They were often forced into marriage which invariably ended tragically. Being in the closet did not allow people to live life fully. I felt upset about it.

I wanted all to be accepted by their families, lead a happy and fulfilling life just as my daughter did. Hence, with support and encouragement from her and some of her friends, I started working in this area . . . sharing my own experience and all possible information with parents, supporting them embrace their children.

I further realised that the archaic Article 377 was at the root of many problems faced by the LGBT community. By branding these people as criminals, Article 377 denied these people their fundamental rights which are granted to every citizen by the Indian Constitution.

I believe in full justice for every citizen, rather every human being. Hence, I signed the Parents’ Petition to the Supreme Court. However, according to me, that alone was not sufficient. The legal battle would take its own course. It was equally important to sensitise the civil society, give them correct information, point out the false myths and prejudices, and tell them the repurcussions of homophobia.

So I started giving talks in various institutions and answering peoples’s queries. I am happy to say that almost all the people who have attended the talks have been very receptive and have responded positively.

My daughter may not be physically present with me but she supports my endeavours a lot by providing me with the latest research and answering my doubts. Her friends too support me in various ways. For me, the cause of LGBT people has now gone beyond being ‘just’ personal.

(The writer is a mother, actor and director of theatre and cinema)
This article first appeared in http://queer-ink.com/chitra-palekar-on-aligarh/
 

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