Inconvenient desires

Insight, From the Archives, Apr '16
Sayan Bhattacharya comes across ‘marriage of convenience’ as an issue reflected in the Counsel Club archives and wonders what such arrangements mean for ‘queerness’, ‘desire’ and ‘identity’. These series of articles intend to create an archive of the queer movement in Bengal and India – not a chronological narrative of the movement, rather anecdotal histories capturing the little voices that are often lost in general historical accounts – voices from thousands of letters received by Counsel Club, one of India’s earliest queer support groups (1993 to 2002), and from the group’s house journal Naya Pravartak.

Graphic credit: Vahista Dastoor

A recent campaign called ‘Come Out Loud’ has been documenting queer narratives across India to forcefully challenge the ‘minuscule minority’ claim made by the Supreme Court of India in its verdict on Section 377, Indian Penal Code in December 2013. Stories of varying degrees of struggle with a hetero-normative economy and violent institutions like the education system, workspace and the family – to establish one’s sense of self, to live on one’s own terms. Perhaps these stories can be an inspiration for those who are discovering their selves or who are struggling with similar situations. Moreover, to be able to say that we are a large number of people and there is no way that the State can deny us our rights, might serve on a strategic level.

To CC with love!

From the Archives, Aug '15
If Counsel Club were functioning today, it might have celebrated its 22nd birthday party this August 15. Pawan Dhall, one of the founder members, rummages through Counsel Club’s archival material and jogs his memory to look back at some of the ‘CC birthday parties’ through the 1990s and early 2000s. These series of articles intend to create an archive of the queer movement in Bengal and India – not a chronological narrative of the movement, rather anecdotal histories capturing the little voices that are often lost in general historical accounts – voices from thousands of letters received by Counsel Club, one of India’s earliest queer support groups (1993-2002), and from the group’s house journal Naya Pravartak.

Counsel Club logo

Ice cream, junk food and antakshari were the highlights and delights for around five Counsel Club members, who braved the rains and slush at Vivekananda Park in South Kolkata, to celebrate the group’s first birthday on August 15, 1994. This is from what I remember, as I did not find any reports or photographs of the occasion in the Counsel Club archives with me. But by the time the group turned two, its documentation had improved. The May to December 1995 issue of Naya Pravartak reported: “When only 11 of the invited 20 turned up for CC’s birthday party on September 3, it appeared that the event would be a damp squib . . . The party should have been on August 15, but had to be postponed for a number of reasons. Anyway, the merry-making by the 11 present surpassed all expectations. Games, discussions (even on that day!), singing, dancing and even a ‘gay quiz’ sent the hours flying.”

Where to look for minuscule minorities

From the Archives, Nov '14
A random flipping through Counsel Club’s archives takes Pawan Dhall to the world of a few queer men writing in to the support group from small-town India in 1998 – a world where loneliness, anxiety, aspirations and courage all took on the hue of a yellow light bulb, quite removed from the arc lights and neon of metropolitan cities. These series of articles intend to create an archive of the queer movement in Bengal and India – not a chronological narrative of the movement, rather anecdotal histories capturing the little voices that are often lost in general historical accounts – voices from thousands of letters received by Counsel Club, one of India’s earliest queer support groups (1993-2002), and from the group’s house journal Naya Pravartak.

“I can’t figure out why, but life seems so miserable today. Is this frustration? Tomorrow, Saturday, our weekly newspaper will be published and yet I didn’t go to work today. Instead I went to see the evening show of Satya. I quite liked it, but do you know how far the cinema hall is from home . . . six km! And there are no buses after 8.30 pm. I decided to walk back home, but somebody gave me a lift on his scooter . . . I wanted to talk to you all on the phone today, but wasn’t sure if I would get anyone . . . You know, these days I see people on the road and think they may well be one of us, but I never get down to talking to any of them. You guys have formed such a nice ‘group’ there, people get to meet each other, talk to each other . . . but I am all alone here. Please help me, for I am gradually losing heart . . .”

Radical love

From the Archives, May '14
Sayan Bhattacharya delves into the Counsel Club archives and discovers a transgressive world of desire at a time when queer visibility in India was still in a nascent stage. These series of articles intend to create an archive of the queer movement in Bengal and India – not a chronological narrative of the movement, rather anecdotal histories capturing the little voices that are often lost in general historical accounts – voices from thousands of letters received by Counsel Club, one of India’s earliest queer support groups (1993 to 2002), and from the group’s house journal Naya Pravartak.

It was a few months back, just after a Supreme Court verdict recriminalized ‘carnal intercourse against the order of nature’ (under Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code), that a friend introduced me to a unit member of the Satyamev Jayate TV programme, the second season of which is currently on air. Aamir Khan is of course back as the Indian Oprah Winfrey. I was told that they would dedicate one episode to non-normative sexualities. So they would need interviews. I introduced him to two of my transgender friends. This person also asked me whether I could speak on camera. However, his next question was whether I have a partner. I was immediately disqualified. My transgender friends were disqualified too!

Desire unbound

From the Archives, Jan '14
Zaid Al Baset delves into the Counsel Club archives and finds a world of desire that no law can suppress or wish away. These series of articles intend to create an archive of the queer movement in Bengal and India – not a chronological narrative of the movement, rather anecdotal histories capturing the little voices that are often lost in general historical accounts – voices from thousands of letters received by Counsel Club, one of India’s earliest queer support groups (1993 to 2002), and from the group’s house journal Pravartak.

In October 1994, Mr. Mazumdar wrote to Pawan (a Counsel Club member), “Normally sometime, I sit quietly in the benches at Ballygunge Lake, near roadside benches, normally opposite the Menoka Cinema Hall / Lake Kali Temple grounds towards the lake side lawn, mostly evenings 5-8 pm (Monday to Friday), because after 8 pm police and CID officials patrol the areas to catch both male and female couples and gay couples to extract money and harass unnecessarily”. Mr. Mazumdar does not mention any instance of him being caught or any sexual encounter he may have had. In the letter, he appears as a lonely voyeur.

Missives of loneliness

From the Archives, Nov '13
Zaid Al Baset delves into the Counsel Club archives again. These series of articles intend to create an archive of the queer movement in Bengal and India – not a chronological narrative of the movement, rather anecdotal histories capturing the little voices that are often lost in general historical accounts – voices from thousands of letters received by Counsel Club, one of India’s earliest queer support groups (1993 to 2002), and from the group’s house journal Naya Pravartak.

The 9th issue of Naya Pravartak published in August 1997, Counsel Club’s house journal, featured an article titled Seasons of Loneliness by one of the youngest members of the group. Beginning on a generic note on how loneliness is a common affliction, he asks “Is it related to one’s sexuality?” This young man, who loves writing, talking, watching TV and cooking, had a much older friend. He committed suicide when he was 46 years old, leaving behind a terse note: “Ultimate escape from loneliness”.

Letters of desire

From the Archives Oct '13
Zaid Al Baset pens the first essay in a series which intends to create an archive of the queer movement in Bengal and India. It is not a chronological narrative of the movement, rather anecdotal histories capturing the little voices that are often lost in general historical accounts – to begin with, voices from thousands of letters received by Counsel Club, one of India’s earliest queer support groups, in the period 1993 to 2002.

The third fold of the inland letter card states “From a friend to a very close friend”. He calls himself John and makes a sincere request at the end of his letter. He writes “I will ask the person involved to meet me at Cossipur Club Gate, a little away from Dum Dum Junction station at either 10:30 in the morning or 4:30 in the afternoon. There’s a cobbler’s shop near the gate. Please wait there with a coat in your left and an unlit cigarette in your right hand. My password will be ‘John’”. He initially writes the name ‘Jay’ then strikes it with three fine strokes of the pen. The last two lines on the aging blue paper with paler edges read, “NB: Please send my partner as quickly as possible, please”. It’s a delightful sentence expressing a yearning so urgent, so precisely. The letter was sent through the Quick Mail Service to P.O. Bag No. 10237 (now not functional) and was received on March 11, 1996.