What inspired you to write a book that blends your experiences as a queer, non-binary person with the Supreme Court proceedings in the marriage equality case (also known as Supriyo Chakraborty vs. Union of India) For which you were part of the legal team?

The underlying assumption is that law operates in a neutral manner, in the form of lofty ideals or formulaic principles that are to be applied to a given set of facts. But most laws are hardly like that. Equality, emotions and psyche often play a big role in how judges decide cases, because at the end of the day they are human beings. This case was a classic example of a case that was not a dispute about disobedience to the law but where the community of one and one was unwillingly the subject of the law. I was writing down what was going through my mind during the hearings, not only legally but also emotionally. The hearings were emotionally charged, and they began to take a toll on my health. Journaling about what happened at the Supreme Court helped me deal with some of the emotions. A few weeks after the case ended, my publisher Chirag Thakkar told me he wanted me to write a book on it, and I jumped at the opportunity because a few similar books had been written before.

You have a wicked sense of humor. You write, “Normally, one doesn’t write a book until one is bald, or wrinkled, or dead.”

Well, I’m not sure my friends would agree with you about my sense of humor. But despite that kind comment, this book was not just an intellectual project, but a deeply personal one. The sentence you are quoting was a sharp comment because, one day, a friend told me that I was too young to write my memoirs (Bhatt is 26).

The book begins with your description of a date with a doctor who kissed you in a car at a traffic signal. Soon after, you find that a policeman is blackmailing you. After the pain caused by this incident, how did you find the courage to write about it?

This was something I first wrote about in an article in 2023 leaflet (a digital platform focusing on legal and public policy issues) and seemed like a perfect place to establish myself as a lawyer, but also as someone who is impacted by the law. One of the often said things about Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code was that it is no longer used. But that is not the point. It was used to threaten, abuse, blackmail and coerce gay people. I and the person I kissed belonged to the class of people who could afford to bribe the police and get away with it. However, when people could not do so, they were subjected to verbal, physical and sexual abuse. This abuse was multiplied across gender, class, caste and profession. So, it was important to talk about it.

A lawyer in the Supreme Court said that “non-binary” is a theoretical category. Please explain what identifying as “non-binary” means to you so that those who may be unaware have a chance to learn.

I don’t see myself fitting into the categories of “man” and “woman.” I don’t want to be fooled. That’s why I choose to identify as “non-binary.” I am not a theoretical class. I am a real person. And there are many other non-binary individuals who are members of the Bar. We do not want our identity to be lost. We exist in flesh and blood.

Tell us about your work as a lawyer with Anand Grover and Indira Jaising.

When I was at Harvard (pursuing a master’s degree in bioethics) and planning to come back to India to start practicing law, I called senior lawyer Sanjay Ghosh and he told me to refer him to Ms. Jaisingh. Must work. He very kindly offered to speak to her and I wrote to him. Within a few weeks I got a job with him. I consider myself truly fortunate to have been able to work with both Ms. Jaisingh and Mr. Grover. While working with him, I encountered a wide variety of work in almost every branch of law. But I am blessed not only because of the intellectual rigor that they demand from their juniors, but also because they have given me a safe space to be myself and to bring out my entire personality. I’ve gone to the office with my nails painted bright red and not raised any eyebrows. I have had the opportunity to work on a variety of issues ranging from civil, criminal, intellectual and even environmental law. But through it all, there has always been one central lesson – never compromise your principles, and have the courage of your convictions.

In the book, you comment that the Supreme Court “has forgotten since 2014 that it should act as a majoritarian counter-force against excesses”. What gave you confidence that the Supreme Court would rule in favor of marriage equality?

Lawyers are always told to read the law later and read the judge first. Given the case and the composition of the bench, we were all cautiously optimistic because we had judges who were largely considered liberal judges. Of the five judges, two who were senior most – Chief Justice DY Chandrachud and Justice SK Kaul – had written extensively on gay rights in their previous judgments. Navtej Singh Johar and others vs Union of India (the decision which led to removal of section 377) and Justice KS Puttaswamy (Retd) and Others vs Union of India and Others (Known as a right to privacy decision). Justice SR Bhatt and Justice Hima Kohli were also seen by the Bar as quite progressive judges who had written powerful judgments on social and economic rights. With this track record, it seemed reasonable for the lawyers to assume that the verdict would be in our favor. We thought we knew our judges. Only they know better what the result was.

You acknowledge in the book that it was unwise for people to go to court with petitions demanding marriage equality before there was community consultation on the matter. How can consultation contribute to the strategy behind a case and the outcome?

Sometimes, lawyers think that they know everything about the community they are representing but this is not true. Holding a community consultation is a display of intellectual humility. It is an acceptance of the fact that we do not know enough, and that we need to learn. Without this approach, one ends up with half-baked cases that do more harm to the cause. Even people within the community don’t know everything because it is a huge and diverse community. The demands of the people of Kashmir will be very different from the demands of the people of Karnataka. The demands of Mumbai will be very different from the demands of Manipur. It’s hard for one person to know it all. Without the experience necessary to argue a case, isn’t it better to listen to others and learn from them? This helps lawyers represent their clients’ interests more effectively.

In The sacrament of love: gay marriage in India and the West (2005), Ruth Vanita has documented several same-sex couples who held their own ceremonies to commit to each other and live together as spouses, even in the absence of legal recognition for these marriages. Have prepared. Why do queer people want recognition from the state?

State recognition is important because it is the state that has to enforce rights. Let’s talk about Manu and Jabin, a couple from Kerala. They had a commitment ceremony, and were living together. When Manu died, his partner Jabin wanted to claim his body because Manu’s family had disowned Manu. Jabin had to approach the court to collect his partner’s body. In the absence of marriage equality, the right to inherit the body of a deceased partner is not recognized by law for same-sex couples living together and committed to each other. This example shows us why state recognition is a necessary evil that we must deal with.

Beyond marriage equality, what does “queer liberation” mean to you? This word is used repeatedly in your book. How do you define and visualize it?

To me, gay liberation is the freedom for every individual to live who they are without interference from state or non-state actors. That freedom includes who you want to have sex with, how you want to dress and express yourself, how you want to live your life, how many lovers you want to have. I don’t think it is the job of the state or society to tell people how they should behave in these matters. I think true gay liberation will only be achieved when all these things can be done without fear of violence.

Many gay people have lost their lives due to suicide as a result of online and in-person bullying. In your book you mention two young people – Arve and Pranshu – whom the community has recently lost. What can the law do to prevent further suicides?

The law can only do so much. It takes action after the crime has occurred. It can punish but not stop discrimination or bullying. This must happen through a change in social attitudes, through sex education in schools and through sensitization about consent.

Chintan Girish Modi is a freelance writer, journalist and book reviewer.