May 17th, 2024
(Before I begin, a quick apology for the lack of updates! Travel got ahead of me, especially when I went to Japan, and a lack of good internet connection combined with late nights made it hard to update consistently so I decided to wait until I was back in London! But now, we continue.)
When traveling, or working abroad, you want everything to go smoothly – especially if you’re like me. Unfortunately, there are some things which can overturn even the best made plans, which can force meticulously drawn-out schedules to shift – which is why, when I wake up this morning with sharp stomach cramps and an overwhelming nausea, I hit the snooze on my alarm, shove my head under a pillow, and force myself to fall asleep. The pain in my abdomen is familiar and severe, but I keep my eyes closed and try my best to ignore it.
I never want to rest when I travel. There always seems to be so much to see – another museum to visit, another street to walk down, another restaurant to eat at – and spending time resting seems to eat into time which could otherwise be spent experiencing something new. However, it’s important (in fact, important doesn’t even really cover it) to consciously make time to rest, and after eight days of non-stop work and movement, today is the day to do so. So, after swallowing two disgusting medications – I will never get used to the taste of Zofran – I curl up on the couch with a book and a blanket, a mug of hot coffee cooling on the table, and rest.
I do have an interview today, but it’s virtual, so the first several hours of my day are dedicated to reading Natsuki Kizu’s Links and gritting my teeth through incessant cramping. Eventually I do get up to grab my computer and set up my usual forms, before my call with an interviewee based in South India. The conversation is longer than I expect, and I end up learning about perspectives and fields I hadn’t considered previously. Of course, I cannot share too much here, but I will say this. Every interview I conduct reminds me of why I want to study this topic now and moving forward. India is on the brink of progress; it’s on the cliff-edge, waiting for the final push that will send it toppling. But it’s not there yet, and although the current state of society is far more progressive than ten years ago, there is still a long way to go.
I have noticed a trend, though, and it’s one I’m curious to look further into. I’m from the United States, a place where queer advocacy is largely led by people my age. I’ve grown up attending protests and rallies and groups organised by teenagers and young adults, who identify as part of the community – so I’m accustomed to encountering a certain demographic. However, in India, it seems to be largely the opposite. Many of the people I’ve spoken to, or plan to speak to, are older than my parents, and don’t identify as queer themselves. Instead, they have family members who are part of the community, and have engaged with queer advocacy on behalf of their loved ones. I wonder if this is because of the generational divide here; homosexuality has only been decriminalised recently, and my grandparents’ generation are therefore less educated or accustomed to the LGBTQ+ community. People my age are often exactly the opposite, fuelled by personal stories and emotion and experience. However, it’s the people in the middle who can bridge the gap, as I’m coming to learn.
We head back into the city as temperatures finally drop, back to Waroda Road – my favourite location, as I’ve mentioned previously. I make a beeline for Subko, where I get my usual iced latte with a piece of chocolate. The star of the show this trip, though, is A-1 bakery. Revathi Auntie has been mentioning it often – but, in all honesty, I thought it was spelled Avan Bakery, not A-1 Bakery, so I’m surprised when we arrive. It’s a small bakery – barely a room – on the side of the road, but there’s a crowd of people waiting outside. We try their specialty, lamb puffs, and I’m once again convinced that this blog should be entirely dedicated to food rather than research.
We end our excursion back at Janata Bar, where we are joined by Asok Uncle, who’s returned to Bandra. Although my appetite isn’t great, I’m happy just to sit and watch the cars go by through the narrow door, to listen to the chatter of people around us. Mumbai is an excellent place to people-watch; there is so much movement, so many different faces to wonder about – the man behind the counter, the lady sitting at the table behind us, the guy making pani puri every night at the chaat house. All with their own stories to share.
Although I want nothing more than to sleep when we return home, I have to pack first. Tomorrow is the most research-intense day I have so far; I’m headed to the Kashish film festival, and I need to prep for on-the-spot interviews. I make sure all my files are downloaded, put my battery pack in the charger, and fill my waterbottle – I am not an early-morning person by any means, and I don’t want to forget anything in my rush to leave tomorrow.
I fall asleep quickly for the first time this trip; my body has finally adjusted to Mumbai, and I’m settled, head tipped back on the pillow and the click of the fan running.