Author name: apa

Industrial Design Centre (IDC) has been instrumental in making me who I am — even more than the design education I received there, it provided me with a soul mate who helped me discover myself. I met Suhail Abbasi the day I came for the interview for admission to IDC in 1984. I never knew we would be close friends for 35 years and counting. He is more than a friend, a soul mate to be precise. We were in the same batch of 8 students of the first Visual Communications batch of IDC and bonded closely — because I, being from an Engineering background (NITK Suratkal), sought his help to execute artworks as he was from Applied Art background (J. J. School of Arts). In fact, all eight of us were very close as it was such a small batch then.  While Suhail and myself bonded closely we never spoke about our sexual orientation. At that point in time, I was not even out to myself that I was gay. I was deeply closeted and too scared to admit my sexual orientation even to myself.  I was deeply closeted and too scared to admit my sexual orientation even to myself.  Remember, it was the pre-internet, pre-cellphone era! Nothing was ever spoken aloud about sexuality, everything was hush-hush. If you are slightly effeminate you would be teased by your hostel-mates. I had to project at being ‘normal’.  It was a tough time hiding one’s innermost secret and pretending that everything was happy and joyful. It was a really painful time. After we passed out of IDC, Suhail and I remained good friends as we tried to go on our course of job hunting — he joined the film industry and I joined an institute for the hearing impaired as their Mass Media Officer.  It was only after three years of passing out, in 1990, when Suhail co-founded Bombay Dost, India’s first gay magazine, that I came to know of his sexual orientation, though I always suspected it. Very soon I came out to him that I was gay too. He coolly said, “Big secret!!” From then on Suhail and I bonded even more closely, we worked on the magazine together, and then went on to co-found The Humsafar Trust, India’s first gay organization, in 1994. He has been a consistent support to me all these years. From then on Suhail and I bonded even more closely, we worked on the magazine together, and then went on to co-found The Humsafar Trust, India’s first gay organization, in 1994. While at IDC, Ravi Poovaiah and Ajanta Sen were constant supporters. They kind of knew about Suhail and my sexual orientation, but they never asked any questions. Their silent support meant a lot. Of course, after we came out to each other, we came out to Ravi and Ajanta too and they continue to be amazing people who have even attended some of our gay parties! While Suhail continues to be on the board of The Humsfar Trust and also work as a creative director for many shows, I have managed to pursue my dream of making LGBTQ films and also found KASHISH Mumbai International Queer Film Festival, which over the past 10 years has become South Asia’s biggest LGBTQ film festival.  We both were in some way instrumental in Sec 377 being finally read down in September 2018, as petitioners challenging the law in the Supreme Court — Suhail being a petitioner along with The Humsafar Trust, and myself being one of the petitioners from Pravritti, the pan-IIT LGBT group. Now, IIT Bombay has Saathi – IIT Bombay, the campus LGBT group which is doing amazing work by bringing together the LGBTQ community and allies on campus. They also have a counselling helpline and organize several activities on campus.  Earlier this year Suhail and I were on a panel organized by Yaariyan, the youth LGBTQ group, along with Saathi — IIT Bombay. We reminisced about our early days on campus and laughed out loud about how closeted we were. But there were tears mingled with laughter. Tears of joy, that we have come so far in LGBTQ rights movement where it is not illegal anymore to be gay in India. Campuses are far more inclusive of diversity, and there are so many companies who have their D&I policies in place, to offer placements to LGBTQ persons.  I’m so happy that I met Suhail 35 years ago, and so thankful to IDC for having put me on my path to self-discovery and contribute in my very small way to the betterment of the rights of the community.  

(This article was written in October, 2017.) Writing about women in IIT, starting off with my memory of being there almost four decades ago, is a difficult task. And it is not because memories fade and things change, but because some memories refuse to fade and some things refuse to change. This is of import today because as I write this there has been an attack in a University on women students who were protesting against sexual harassment and the discrimination that they face on campus. They were fighting for more proactive measures by the University to address the harassment they faced from the men on campus, the fact that the streets were not adequately lit, and also that they were being locked into the hostel earlier than the boys and not being given similar food [1]. Over the last couple of years, as these voices of rebellion of women students have risen from across the country – DU, JNU, AMU, Mumbai University, Allahabad University, SRFTI, BHU … (and I am sure many others that did not make national news) – I am reminded of the year 1978-79 when a small bunch of us were protesting similar discrimination on the IIT Powai campus. We were students of IIT who resided in a students’ hostel like the others, but who did not experience the campus like the others. We were barely 75 women in the “Ladies Hostel” (or LH as it was then known). There were almost 3000 other students in nine other hostels, named Students Hostel 1 to 9 (H1 to H9) on campus. Not only was the name assigned by the authorities a marker of our difference, we were located far away from the others, away from the hub of student activity, apparently safely ensconced on the fringe of faculty housing under the watchful eye of the Director from his bungalow. It is another matter that this proximity to the Director made it easier for us to go petition him from time to time for the room shortage that we faced every year from 1977 onwards (till very recently I hear). Or to protest against the ridiculous seven-foot boundary wall that was once proposed because an intruder had entered our hostel one summer night bringing much excitement in our dreary summers. Not only was the name assigned by the authorities a marker of our difference, we were located far away from the others, away from the hub of student activity, apparently safely ensconced on the fringe of faculty housing under the watchful eye of the Director from his bungalow. The rules on paper for all the hostels may have been the same, but the way in which they were imposed on the students of our hostel was very different. There was no curfew for the other hostels and in reality anyone could enter and exit these hostels. It is another matter that we were wary of going on that side of the campus. The true character of the cream of the nation, the so-called “above average IQ” person who resided in the students’ area, is best left undescribed because it is a known secret to all alumni of IIT. In this situation, as students of the campus we raised the issue of changing the name of the hostel from Ladies Hostel to a respectable Students Hostel 10 (just like all the other student hostels); we demanded that the curfew on us be lifted; and we wanted to formulate our own rules so that all guests (irrespective of gender [we only thought in the binary then]) be allowed conditional entry into the hostel with the conditions being those that we collectively arrived at as residents of the hostel. We all came from different backgrounds and so arriving at agreements on rules was not easy, but we managed to arrive at workable solutions that were agreeable to all the residents of the hostel. It meant long discussions amongst us about issues of privacy and safety. Those lessons about living together with different points of view and of consensus building and dialogue as methods of democracy refuse to fade. We dreamt big. And we managed to get all that we wanted, implemented. How we achieved the change was just that – we did it. It was our hostel. We decided how we wanted to live in that space, what we wanted to call it and we just started doing exactly that. We did not have other examples before us. We just did not accept the fact that we were being treated differently. We saw ourselves as students of the campus. This particularity of being treated different just did not seem right to us and we were using the logical training that we were getting to address it. The interesting thing is that we managed to do all of it without active intervention from our teachers or the institute. We were happy to have a non-interfering warden, someone who was an independent woman and treated us as autonomous young women. And much to the credit of IIT authorities then, we did not face any backlash for deciding our own rules and nor did we have to agitate a lot. One needs to say this because in the present moment there are many universities where the authorities have been ruthless in the ways in which they deal with such actions. Obviously it was a different time. It was post Emergency when it looked like anything could happen. It was the beginning of this new articulation of feminism, unlike the present when there is a steady backlash against feminist articulations, as the world realises the full potential of what real equality means to the existing social order. So while gender equality is a catchword, the meaning of equality is different especially for those in authority. The confusion around the meaning of equal access, leads to inclusion that is half hearted. In this context I wish to initiate a discussion on the issue of number of