You, in Mid-air

Love has a way of becoming comfortable. When it becomes comfortable, it gets lazy. It rests on the couch and it watches movies. It feeds you pastries and chocolates. It shields you from the world outside. Friends either follow you into this haven, or they shun you to maintain their independent lifestyles. No one can really say which friend is doing the right thing.

Life is a series of phases. You get the sad phases, the happy phases, the quiet phases, the combustive phases. Love can bring in an amalgamation of all. Though eventually love becomes comfortable. But I have already said that. Of course, as I also said that life is a phase and with it, love adapts, too.

Isn’t it rich?
Are we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground,
You in mid-air,
Where are the clowns?

Sometimes, the dynamic of the relationship changes. Someone in love realizes his sense of duty. Sometimes, it so happens that being comfortable isn’t what a lover wants. Like the independent friends, the mind exerts control over the heart and one wants to hit the gym, pursue further studies, spend more time on himself or herself, regain a certain independence, appreciate the inner spirit.

Isn’t it bliss?
Don’t you approve?
One who keeps tearing around,
One who can’t move,
Where are the clowns?
There ought to be clowns…

So love is shaken off from the couch. The movies end. The parties become strictly a weekend thing. Food, duty, studies, jobs, family and the independent friends are looked on with greater priority. It all varies naturally. Lifestyles don’t necessarily remain the same. Promises cannot always follow a strict path (a fact which is again highly debatable: people make vows before what they consider to be God and then they go and get the messiest divorces).

Just when I’d stopped opening doors,
Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours
Making my entrance again with my usual flair
Sure of my lines
No one is there

Everything is fair. It happens. Everyone should be given their space to be. Definitions of ‘I love you’ and ‘I am no longer in love with you’ and ‘I love you but I do not like you’ and ‘I love you, but…’ begin to take shape. The tragedy happens when there used to be two on a couch and then there is just one.

Don’t you love farce?
My fault, I fear
I thought that you’d want what I want
Sorry, my dear!
But where are the clowns?
Send in the clowns…
Don’t bother, they’re here.

Life doesn’t follow the same speed for everyone involved in relationships. The other is then supposed to be supportive. Supposed to understand. Supposed to be as mature as the other has now become. Growing up and out should happen simultaneously – in an ideal world. But we do not live in an ideal world now, do we? Ergo, one gets left behind. One changes the rules of the game. One breaks the pact. One says he will return, but he never does and the other chooses the path of least resistance. At times, both resist and the link shatters.

Isn’t it rich?
Isn’t it queer?
Losing my timing this late in my career
But where are the clowns?
There ought to be clowns…
Well, maybe next year…

 

Spoiler

The thing about life is that no matter how honest you want to get with it, it always wants a show. Something sensational! Something that will make others go, oh, really! How terrible! Or, really, how incredible! When you want to live your life according to the honest, and being truthful and wish to live your life according to your own terms, you can do so – but two conclusions happen. One where the world decides that you cannot be trifled with and so leaves you to their own devices. Two, where the world pretends to assume that it was not you who helped with the creation of your life but everyone around you made who you are and so credit should never come to you.

When I was young, I was bullied, ridiculed and beaten. Society – from my father to my friends – tried to make me behave in a certain way. If I didn’t, I was beaten, thanks to my father, or I was left, like countless friends and lovers. If I came out, it was because I had a fantastic support structure. If I stood up against bullies, it was because my father toughened me up. If I decided I would leave my family if they didn’t accept my sexuality, and they did accept me, it was because I had a fantastic, understanding family. If I was cheated on by my lover of thirteen years, and opened up my relationship so that I could participate in a new world view, my lover was broad-minded enough to accept this change. If my mother left my father, after he nearly strangled me to death, she was brave enough to do so.

I sound petulant now, don’t I?

No.

In this day and age, I have realized one thing. I have made me who I am. I have been broken. I have been torn apart. I have been beaten. Literally. And I have made it through. I have lived my life on my terms. I have decided that the path of honesty is something I want to walk on, irrespective of what and who I might lose. I have been true to every single value that I took up and I have never shirked my responsibilities. I have been through shit, of course, there is this concept of whose shit is more difficult, harder, crueler… but we are not comparing.

I remember a dialogue from Ally McBeal. Georgia goes, “Ally, why are your problems bigger than the rest of ours?” And Ally replies, “Because they are mine.” However, that is not even the issue I am trying to bring about. I am not complaining about the problems I have faced. I am not even complaining about the acknowledgement that goes elsewhere. I am just asking for some honesty. If you don’t wish to listen to me, do not. Do not, however, make the pretence of listening and then realizing I don’t make good matter, because I am unbreakable.

We all want good drama. But I realise I am now a spoiler. I am the ending that is sure. The path already taken. And as I write this down, I realise that if that is so, I should also know that people in general are flawed, like me, and prefer the journey while the destination is unknown. I on the other hand, am comfortable where I am because I know the destination and the journey are all a part of drama any way.

Made In Heaven

Made in Heaven

I admit I watched Made in Heaven,predominantly, because a dear friend, Anil Lakhwani, worked on the series. I also have a deep respect for the writing and overall aesthetic of Zoya Akhtar (she being my favourite director in Bollywood). I began watching the series with a sense of trepidation, knowing of its premise: the story surrounding the two main leads who are wedding planners, in Delhi. Each episode deals with a different wedding and the stories of the protagonists’ personal lives.

As I watched the first episode, I smiled at the wonderful Neena Gupta, who was such a relatable punjabi lady. And yes, I cringed at the depiction of a gay man, played by a cis-male, Arjun Mathur. Not because of his acting prowess, mind, but, because, I thought, like so many film makers, this depiction would be one that surmised homosexuality as just random sex-seeking and angst, against one’s own different self. The gay kiss was where I rolled my eyes – could they not have found an actor who was comfortable playing a gay man?

Then my friend, who had worked on the series and who I watched the series with, mentioned, “do you know how difficult it is to find an actor who is willing to play a gay man in Indian cinema?” I nodded. I didn’t say anything because I understood and was conflicted. Gay men have been playing straight roles all the time. But that’s our society and a different topic altogether. But a straight man, who should – ideally – value his work ethic and, for that matter, work with someone like Zoya, should jump at this role… Then again, that’s how I think and not how the world operates.

So, I decided to give the series another two episodes, before I called quits on it. However – the second episode got me hooked, and I finished the series, over a night’s viewing. That, in itself, should state how marvellous it is. But if it doesn’t, let me go on with the review.

Each episode deals with a marriage. We have a whole plethora of people being a part of them. Weddings, and the planning of, dealing with the concerns from royal households to that of a common man. Women, who are avaricious and succumb, like all flawed humanity, to the whims of this material world, to women who are empowered and revolt against patriarchal structures, encapsulate this world of marriage, life and love. We are shown grit and determination and then, also, the giving up of the self, love and practicality. Each marriage has something to convey to the Indian milieu – and it’s not just the people speaking English who this refers to. But perhaps, that’s who will end up watching this lovely depiction of the institution that is marriage.

Sobitha Dhulipala, who plays Tara, kept reminding me of Angelina Jolie. And like the latter’s choice of roles, Tara plays this ambitious woman who rises from the lower rungs of society and reaches the place in the ladder she wants to set foot on. Machiavelli would be proud, up to the point, of course, where the character starts her climb and the grey begins to show, soon after.

This is the best part of the show, there is no black and white. There are role reversals and people soaring to loveliness and they being equally capable of plunging into nastiness.

In one of these various shades of grey, falls Arjun Mathur’s character, Karan. Arjun plays the role with an angst unique to the gay subculture. He hits the role with a vulnerability that is discernible, in flashes, to only the most attentive watcher. He makes the character personal and tragic, elevating himself to the stage of coming out and accepting who he himself is. But this journey is not singular, it is taken by all the main leads and is superlative to watch.

The lovemaking doesn’t seem forced (though I will say, Arjun Mathur had to play a top gay man – I guess, showing a passive gay man would push the buck for an actor to pick up the role [?] but then I can also say that showing a femme gay man would also play into one of the many generic stereotypes that gay people have battled against, for so long). Conflict seems to be the name of the game – and alas, life.

Arjun’s love story and the character graph is one of the most intense ones – though I would also say, hurried. It appears most of our lives are encapsulated in nine hours. Most of us gay boys go through what he has gone through. The internalised homophobia, the phobic parent, the sexual abuse by the powers that be, the love gone wrong, the ease of finding sex, the extortion and, yet, the finding of help and succour in the face of adversity. We have all been there in bits and parts. He has brought it out so wonderfully – so sensitively. The scene at the dinner table with his father, where he breaks down and cries, remains my favourite.

I must also talk about the very complex character portrayal of Ramesh Gupta, played by the indomitable Vinay Pathak. The nuanced performance is fantastic, and he deserves a stalwart commendation. He portrays all that could go wrong when one is not true to who he or she is – he is what reality can be.

Homosexual sub culture is neither glamourised nor treated with disdain. It is what it is – another facet of humanity that needs to be recognised and accepted.

It is not just Arjun’s work, but the absolute genius of the side actor casting that needs worthy mention. Ayesha Raza, Kalki Koechlin (shining in a superb portrayal of a kind woman, lost in the understanding of who she is and what she wants), Jim Sarbh (the suave, eligible man who cannot profess his love and cannot be honest about it and so compensates for it in various other ways) – all fantastic!

Two episodes stand out as my favourites: “The Price of Love” where the bride rocks and becomes a personification of women empowerment and “It’s Never Too Late” where Dipti Naval is, as usual, brilliant and such a pleasure to watch. Feminism stands balanced in every episode, with a healthy dose of the portrayal of women who are gentle and cruel, lost and strong, ambitious and content. The best part is that I could feel, as I watched these episodes, that the writers were hardly ever passing judgement. They have tackled the topic of not just feminism and alternate lifestyles but also of drugs, corruption and the helping power of good counselling.

I have not seen such a web series in a very long time. It is, in equal proportions, mature and engaging, liberal and empowering, engaging and staid. I applaud all the makers behind this venture: with a special brava to the writer-directors: Alankrita Shrivastava, Zoya Akhtar and Reema Kagti, and two thumbs up to the other directors: Nitya Mehra and Prashant Nair.

Absolutely cool, will definitely be spreading the word.