Why I played 'Jab pyaar kiya' on full blast in South Africa

From a very young age, I was drawn to Madhubala’s magnificent performance in K Asif’s magnum opus Mughal-e-Azam. Little did I know then that her beguiling and compelling characterisation of the courtesan Anarkali and her defiance, spectacularly captured in the cult classic “Jab pyaar kiya to darna kya” (in which she refuses to deny her love for the prince Salim, despite their relationship being forbidden) would inform my own sense of defiant desire as a young gay man.Because life is nothing if not ironic, my mother is named after the famed actress Madhubala.
When I first came out to my family, or rather when I was forced out of the closet to my family, it was not easy for them to accept. “What will people say?” is something which understandably perturbed my mother and concerns around the ‘samaj’ are nothing if not an Indian obsession right? “This is not what we do… it’s what white people do”. My Madhubala has certainly made the journey from that difficult time and is now one of my greatest champions. So much so, that other members in the community, reach out to her for support when their children come out. Thankfully, the bond between Indian mothers and their sons is far stronger than both the fear of prejudice and perceived rebuke from a community.
I was about 11 when South Africa held its first democratic election. It was an incredible time to be alive and it was not lost on me that I was fortunate to grow up in a time in South Africa that was remarkably different to that of my parents and grandparents, who were, until South Africa’s constitutional democracy, considered second-class citizens.
In 1999, when our constitutional court,in the judgment National Coalition for Gay and Lesbian Equality and the South African Human Rights Commission Minister of Justice and Others, struck down the pernicious sodomy laws in South Africa, Justice Albie Sachs noted: “At a practical and symbolic level…[this case] is about the status, moral citizenship and sense of self-worth of a significant section of the community. At a more general and conceptual level, it concerns the nature of the open, democratic and pluralistic society contemplated by the Constitution.” I was too young then and perhaps too closeted to appreciate how this judgment would impact my future as a gay man living in South Africa.
As difficult as it was for my family to grapple with their own fears and prejudices of having a gay son, they could take comfort in the fact that their son would never face arrest or be deemed a criminal. That’s why laws do matter.
In April this year, my dream of having a big gay desi wedding was realised and my family was a part of this important celebration (and let’s be honest, weddings are the pinnacle of all Indian life!). The interconnectedness of our present world means that during my wedding and after, I’d often have young men from India and Pakistan sliding into my DMs on Facebook or Instagram both congratulating me and asking how I got my family to come around. Most heartbreaking were those messages where I was told that they could never enjoy the simplest and most basic human desire of loving and being loved. Those broke my mother’s heart too.
Yesterday, the judgment from the Indian Supreme Court in doing away with that colonial relic section 377 (yes, thanks for nothing Britain) has filled me with immense hope. The first thing I did when I heard the verdict was message Madhubala and then play on full volume my favourite song from Mughal-e-Azam, as the Supreme Court confirmed: “Pyaar kiya koi chori nahin ki, Chhup chhup aahe bharna kya.”
Hope is what we queers need now more than ever. In a country like India, where divisions along class, caste and religion continue to hold such sway, it will once again fall on those activists who have been relentless in their pursuit of justice to ensure that this legal victory is one which benefits all within the LGBTIQ community, not just the rich, not just Hindus, and not just men. For now though, Satyameva Jayate India: your truth, amongst many other truths, is queer! Enjoy this victory my desi fam!
Harie is executive director of the Gay and Lesbian Memory in Action, an activist archive in Johannesburg