AN ACCOUNT, OF THE FASCINATING, HILARIOUS, EXOTIC AND MAGICAL OCCURRENCES AT THE WISDOM HALL.....

Two things. I'm trying to live up to my brother's intended designs for my future, ("Mario, you have to grow up and be a superbitch just like me") and in doing so, have to completely realign my syntax, modes of behaviour AND my wardrobe, although preliminary communication from dad says the last one will have to wait. So I'm making this completely about me (Sorry, Vikram, if THIS is not what you had in mind!). And number two, (and this will always come a pitiful second to the superbitch thing), I'd personally love to be a historian someday, which would explain the title, inspired as it is by the world travellers and historians of yore.

Now to get down to business. I reached the Wisdom Hall fairly early to help Sopan, Manohar, Vikram, Navjit and the others set up the place for the show. A bit like Christmas (or as Navjit would have us believe, the Fourth of July, achieved brilliantly through the juxtaposition of the GB banner with the starry background and the rainbow stripes just next to it) when I always get into a frenzy over getting things done right, my lone creative task was drawing a PULL sign for the door, while Tatva got the other posters made, after which we set all of them up.

Alexander proved the perfect host and showed us around the Ayurvedic Center, telling us about the programmes it is involved in and the services it offers. I loved the way space has been used so creatively in the architecture of the place, to give it a swanky yet relaxed look.
Meanwhile conversation was brewing among those who had just arrived, and after a bit of dithering over how much longer we would need to wait, we started off at around 11:15.

First up, was a Chinese film titled "Happy Together". Wholly depressing in its acute violence, and its avante-garde picturisation, this was certainly not your run-of-the-mill gay flick. Well, for a very long time I was trying to figure out the point. And for a very long time, I didn't get it. Ho-Po Wing, one of the protagonists, does not even invoke the slightest sympathy for his condition in his brutal and savage treatment of the other protagonist, Fai. Ex-lovers, and since then, on and off several times it seems, the two continue to stick
together in the hope of one day "starting over" and venture all the way to Argentina, where they run out of money. Ho seems to be the typical violent type, but when his anger gives way to his love, his devotion to Fai is beautiful to behold. One scene that really stood out was the one in which the two are standing outside the Bar Sur and while Ho smokes, he stares lustfully into Fai's eyes, while Fai reciprocates the look.

The film tends to get extremely stifling with the constant bickerings, until the second half when Chang is introduced. The chemistry between Chang and Fai is rather interesting, because devoid of sexual sparks, the audience is left guessing (and desperately hoping!) that Chang is gay. Several sequences in the film, especially the one at the Iguazu Falls and the public toilet permit a lot of philosophical and deeply introspective narration by Fai (*All lonely people are the same*) exploring the nature of relationships - with lovers, exes, families.
Eventually, what we draw from the film is a rather serious shake-up, because far-removed those escapist sentimental flicks where everyone patches up in the end and all questions are answered, this film has a more open ending with Fai returning home, alone and yet content with himself.

Lunch was next, and I was left wondering why Alexander kept saying that it was 'limited'. The serving was really a mouthful - tasty, healthy, wholesome - this is what food should always be. I finished last, though that's probably because I talk too much. Which is also what a lot of other people were doing at the same time - talking, interacting, making conversation. However, the evil and conniving Teen Queen kept distracting me by directing my eyes sinfully towards the beautiful band of people gathered there (And here I'm not only indulging in some much-required publicity!). But really, lovely how there were so many different kinds of men present, to cater as it were to all given
preferences.

Next up, was the hilarious Thai film "The Iron Ladies". Based on a true story, it tells the tale of a band of drag queens, transvestites, gay and straight men who go on to win the volleyball championships in Thailand. Admittedly, a very boring concept (at first) for a gay film - why would any gay guy worth his name even watch something in which sports was so integral to the central theme? And yet, our audience went completely ballistic with uproarious laughter at the tongue-in-cheek camp element involved. The cute but silly Chai is the centre of most of the comedy as he sashays across Thailand, selling rice cakes at the street market or serving at a game of volleyball. Jung is C-U-T-E, but unfortunately straight, but at the same time does not subscribe to the bigotry that manifests itself in the sporting establishment. And then we have the motherly dyke, Coach "Bee" who stands up to a misogynist and homophobic culture, continuously doling out advice with deeply
Buddhist roots about conquering oneself before all else.

Which also brings in a great deal of seriousness in the film. Mon and Jung are constantly at loggerheads, and the trivial tension between Nong ("the one that's built like a buffalo") and Chai over which one of them, a certain officer in the police force really fancies threatens to disrupt the harmony of the team. However, Coach Bee urges them to stick together and they finally win the day, one of the drag queens in the stands asking for the year to be dedicated to tolerance instead of just to drag queens. Some of the scenes may not appeal to the more politically correct among us, especially the song sequence which says, "It's not our fault, we were born this way.", but the film is immensely inspiring to the gay-man-on-the-street, and its simple lessons about love and life are certainly endearing.

We took a short chai break, after which we watched our third film. Finally in English (subtitles do tend to get irritating after a while), and set in L.A., "The Broken Hearts Club" is a story of a group of gay friends and their varied lifestyles, and different value systems. Very helpful to those seeking to extend their gay vocabulary, and those looking for smart retorts to crush all those smart alecs, the film also attempts a critique over what many see as the standard gay lifestyle - one that is constantly seeking sex and nothing else. One character (notice how I can never remember names when the man involved is gorgeous) wishes to mend his wayward ways, after the discovery on his birthday night that the man he is about to sleep with may never end up
having a meaningful relationship with him.

What follows is the unveiling of several masks that the friends have been wearing until now. They realise that the lives they have been living are complete shams, and each in their own individual ways. "Hunk-guy" grasps the gravity of the situation when he is dumped by a famous actor and realises that this was something that he had done all his life, and that now, the tables had been turned on him. "Ugly-fuzzy-haired-guy" finds fulfillment in donating his sperm to his lesbian sister and her lover who wish to mother a child.
"Spectacles-guy" goes back to his lover and reconciles with him, while "Token-black-guy" seems content with marketing the token camp element. Personally, I love the film for making such a big deal about the Carpenters. I have always been a huge fan, and feel that somewhere along the line, their position in the gay spectrum has been misplaced. Finally given their rightful place and their due importance, I do hope they overtake the popularity of such false prophetic icons as Anne Heche and (closer to home) Shobha De.

Next was a short ten-minute film entitled "Amina und der Inder" (Amina and the Indian), which featured a whirling dervish sequence performed by Alexander himself and a belly-dance sequence performed by one of his friends. As Alexander told us later, this particular whirling dervish performance was Egyptian and not the more common, Turkish, which gave room for his donning a colourful robe (a technicolor dreamcoat of sorts) as opposed to a plain white one. Backed by Sufi music which spoke of the plight of oppressed children, I was amazed at how Alexander transformed the robe he was wearing to the likeness of a baby which he held in his arms and bestowed with such beautiful motherly affection, while whirling at the same time.
 
This brought us to the end of our day. While some of us rushed off home, some stayed back for bhel and refreshments at the center's cafe. I was only left wondering at how more people did not turn up this time, given the massive turnout we had last time. Hopefully many more will turn up next time to excite the nascent imagination of this amateur superbitch / historian.

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