NEW DELHI: In the beginning there were only cops, huddling on the sidewalk, sweating profusely and talking in hushed voices.
Then arrived a small bunch of men and women and took out their rainbow flags, posters, masks and colourful headgears. A shiver went through the cluster of lady cops as three heavily made-up eunuchs walked in front of them, chased by impatient TV cameras, trying to capture every gesture they made and every word they spoke.
But, at 5pm, there were 100 cops watching some 10 gay activists near a five-star hotel, just off the Barakhamba Road. And the team of reporters stood on the silent street, wondering if the city's first gay pride parade would be a complete flop show.
Suddenly, the crowd began to swell and within a few minutes the place was teeming with people. With the speechless cops taking position along the road going towards Jantar Mantar, the dusty spot began to undergo a transformation: rainbow flags were jammed into hands, small colourful badges appeared on the chests, multi-coloured masks covered the faces, posters with catchy slogans were raised in the air, and the crowd was greatly stirred as a group of dholwallas began to beat their drums and the eunuchs broke into an impromptu dance.
And then the more than 500 gay activists from all over the country began to walk behind the dhols, raising banners, shouting slogans and singing songs. ''377, quit India,'' shouted a march leader and hundreds of throats echoed the call across a silent, Sunday street in Connaught Place. ''My sister is gay,'' read a poster in the hands of a man in green shirt and a red mask. ''Out of the closet and out on the street,'' said another placard. ''Give me support so that I can take off my mask,'' said a small banner jointly held by two men, with their faces behind masks.
With the street reverberating with the beats of the dhol, someone broke into a song: ''Hum hain raahi pyar ke...'' and the crowd followed it. Then came another oldie, in a new form: ''Hum gay hain to kya hua, dilwaale hain...''
Then the nation's love anthem: ''Pyaar kiya to darna kya...'' They stopped the traffic. Curious onlookers looked at the crowd moving a happy wave. Some wondered what was it about. A few made a face. One man actually scowled. But, many supported them: ''It's their choice.''
A DTC bus stopped and a few hands came out the window, capturing the rainbow crowd on their mobile phones. A taxi pulled up along the kerb and a foreign couple got off the car, joining the crowd in full swing now. The crowd of gay people, tourists, straights with gay friends, parents with gay children and activists was ecstatic as it turned into that corner of Jantar Mantar which shows a small glimpse of the million mutinies erupting across India every day.
Amid slogans, songs and hugs, the crowd settled down in the middle of the road. And they all fell silent. After a few brief speeches by the organisers, they observed two-minute silence for those who have been ''victims of 377''. Then it was time for celebrations.
The organizers were surprised at the success of their march. They shouted and screamed with joy. They hugged each other. The cops had vanished. With songs and slogans for love and freedom ringing through the muggy air, there was no need for any muscle power to control the crowd. For a change, the cops looked totally irrelevant at Jantar Mantar.
Source: http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/3178512.cms
Then arrived a small bunch of men and women and took out their rainbow flags, posters, masks and colourful headgears. A shiver went through the cluster of lady cops as three heavily made-up eunuchs walked in front of them, chased by impatient TV cameras, trying to capture every gesture they made and every word they spoke.
But, at 5pm, there were 100 cops watching some 10 gay activists near a five-star hotel, just off the Barakhamba Road. And the team of reporters stood on the silent street, wondering if the city's first gay pride parade would be a complete flop show.
Suddenly, the crowd began to swell and within a few minutes the place was teeming with people. With the speechless cops taking position along the road going towards Jantar Mantar, the dusty spot began to undergo a transformation: rainbow flags were jammed into hands, small colourful badges appeared on the chests, multi-coloured masks covered the faces, posters with catchy slogans were raised in the air, and the crowd was greatly stirred as a group of dholwallas began to beat their drums and the eunuchs broke into an impromptu dance.
And then the more than 500 gay activists from all over the country began to walk behind the dhols, raising banners, shouting slogans and singing songs. ''377, quit India,'' shouted a march leader and hundreds of throats echoed the call across a silent, Sunday street in Connaught Place. ''My sister is gay,'' read a poster in the hands of a man in green shirt and a red mask. ''Out of the closet and out on the street,'' said another placard. ''Give me support so that I can take off my mask,'' said a small banner jointly held by two men, with their faces behind masks.
With the street reverberating with the beats of the dhol, someone broke into a song: ''Hum hain raahi pyar ke...'' and the crowd followed it. Then came another oldie, in a new form: ''Hum gay hain to kya hua, dilwaale hain...''
Then the nation's love anthem: ''Pyaar kiya to darna kya...'' They stopped the traffic. Curious onlookers looked at the crowd moving a happy wave. Some wondered what was it about. A few made a face. One man actually scowled. But, many supported them: ''It's their choice.''
A DTC bus stopped and a few hands came out the window, capturing the rainbow crowd on their mobile phones. A taxi pulled up along the kerb and a foreign couple got off the car, joining the crowd in full swing now. The crowd of gay people, tourists, straights with gay friends, parents with gay children and activists was ecstatic as it turned into that corner of Jantar Mantar which shows a small glimpse of the million mutinies erupting across India every day.
Amid slogans, songs and hugs, the crowd settled down in the middle of the road. And they all fell silent. After a few brief speeches by the organisers, they observed two-minute silence for those who have been ''victims of 377''. Then it was time for celebrations.
The organizers were surprised at the success of their march. They shouted and screamed with joy. They hugged each other. The cops had vanished. With songs and slogans for love and freedom ringing through the muggy air, there was no need for any muscle power to control the crowd. For a change, the cops looked totally irrelevant at Jantar Mantar.
Source: http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/3178512.cms
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