If I have to go away , can I leave a bit of me with you?
Love is a word we’ve known since childhood. As we grow, we piece together various ideas and expectations of love. Throughout different stages of life, love embodies desire, sex, loss, jealousy, and heartbreak. It is an essential process that sustains life.
Growing up, the movies I watched depicted love as something that comes from a partner of the opposite sex. In school, we normalized the idea of falling in and out of love. It was normal for us, but not for society. Romantic love was expected to be kept private or spoken of in hushed tones. Young teenagers who often muddled in ‘romance’ faced society’s scrutiny.
Amidst all this commotion, we missed a crucial aspect: Who gets to love and be loved? Do we all have equal rights and liberty to love? Can we all speak openly about love? How is love experienced by those whom society deems ‘abnormal’? Does love favor only those who are ‘normal’, ‘acceptable’, ‘able-bodied’, or ‘straight’?
Introduction
In this article, I explore the intricate dynamics of love and privilege through the lens of the film ‘Memories in March.’ Directed by Sanjoy Nag, this 2010 drama poignantly captures the struggles of love within marginalized communities. Revisiting this film evokes deep emotions, as it sensitively portrays the intersection of love, loss, and societal norms. By examining the narrative and characters, I aim to highlight how love, often perceived as a universal right, remains a privilege for many. Here’s a brief synopsis of the film to set the context.
Sanjoy Nag’s 2010 drama film Memories in March is set in India. When her only son Siddharth perishes in a vehicle accident, Arti Mishra (Deepti Naval) travels from Delhi to Kolkata. She is in shock when one of his coworkers, Shahana (Raima Sen), informs her that he was gay and in a romantic relationship with his boss, Ornob Mitra (Rituparno Ghosh). As she sits alone in his apartment, she tries to process the life of her dead son while reading his emails and texts.
The Film: Memories in March
Arti, a conservative mother, struggles to understand what it means to be gay. She refers to it as an ‘abnormality’ and, in conversation with Ornob, suggests that her post-divorce negligence may have caused a ‘deformity’ in Siddhartha’s sexuality. She sees Ornob more as a caregiver for her son in an unfamiliar city than as someone capable of love.
Arti’s character, portrayed with depth and nuance by Deepti Naval, learns of her son’s sexuality only after his death. She is torn between two emotions: the present grief of Siddhartha’s death and an uncertain, unlabelled feeling about his sexuality. To her, it is not normal; it is a trap her son fell into and could not escape. Her reaction is subtly portrayed, reflecting the early 2000s when the LGBTQ+ community was often seen as something for the wealthy or the mentally disturbed.
At one point, I sympathize with Arti, who embodies the constant pendulum between the grief of death and the grief of the secret.
She asks Ornob,” Why my son? There were so many others.”
The film illustrates that love cannot be forced or undone, and that Siddhartha had the right to choose whom he loved. However, he was scared to reveal this truth to his mother, the most significant person in his life. This fear of hurting her, of ‘traumatizing’ her with his truth and existence, highlights how love is not a right for all. Love does not come easily for everyone.
I do not wish to overlook the many issues that arise in heterosexual marriages and relationships due to caste, class, toxicity, and patriarchy. However, the freedom to love openly, to label your love and lover genuinely rather than as a ‘close friendship,’ is not available to everyone.
The Privilege to Love
Who decides if they or someone else deserves love? Is it a matter of power dynamics or a self-reflective process that leads us to believe we don’t deserve to love and be loved? Bollywood has long romanticized the idea of love, shaping our perceptions and expectations. We’ve been led to believe that love would find us through serendipitous moments: a dupatta getting stuck in a boy’s bracelet, a chance encounter in college with books flying, or someone falling in love with us because they saw us dancing. Navigating these emotions is not easy.
For most of the 1950s and 1960s, love stories in Hindi cinema were supporting characters in drama films with heavy social commentary as critical stories. In well-known films like Awaara (1951), Bandini (1963), Sujata (1959), Shree 420 (1955), Pyaasa (1957), Deedar (1951), Daag (1952), Baazi (1951), Taxi Driver (1954), Kala Bazaar (1960), Kala Pani (1958), and Guide (1965), social topics were tackled while love storylines were subtly present.
According to Dr Piyush Roy, a film historian and critic at the University of Edinburgh’s Centre for South Asian Studies, “The subject of love stories and how they are presented in Indian cinema have generally reflected the prevalent, partially socially accepted and partially revolutionary, idealized/utopian ideas and notions about the romance of their eras. Therefore, a movie like Pyaasa or Mere Mehboob may have been made in the 1950s or 1960s, when wooing was considered an art form to be valued and mastered.”
Also read: Aamis: Between the plates
The Conflict
Rituparno passionately portrays the struggle of being in love and living without it. In one scene, Arti visits Siddhartha’s office to collect his belongings and asks Ornob for them. Ornob responds that he needs 24 hours to think about it. Arti angrily retorts,
“Is it wrong for a mother to ask for her only son’s belongings?”
At this moment, Sahana reveals to Arti that Siddhartha was gay and in a relationship with Ornob. Ornob’s reluctance to release Siddhartha’s belongings was his way of keeping a part of Siddhartha with him. The film’s climax centers on the fight for a piece of belonging, symbolizing the memory of a loved one cherished by two strangers.
In one of Rituparno’s interviews, he discusses his desire to be loved as a person, not as a celebrity. He says:
Everyone does. But I need to determine how much one is expected to invest in a relationship to keep it going. It is indeed difficult, for same-sex relationships are still a taboo in our society. Likely, I would barely find anyone to acknowledge his relationship with me. Plus, people mostly get overwhelmed by my stardom; I do not know whether anyone can love me as just another person and not as Rituparno Ghosh.
This fear is not confined to same-sex relationships. There are ways to express anger, pain, and dismissal through social media, family, and friends. A similar conversation occurs in the movie when Arti asks Ornob to remove the fish tank. Ornob rejects the idea, saying he never favored the tank and disliked the idea of caging or boxing someone, robbing them of their freedom.
“Why should we all be in boxes?”
Data Analysis
The Lok Foundation-Oxford University surveys are a series of multi-year panel surveys with a large sample size covering various socio-economic topics. The Centre manages them for Monitoring Indian Economy (CMIE). Over 100,000 households were included in the polls. In these surveys, metropolitan areas are oversampled relative to rural areas hence, it largely & exclusively examines urban data. 93% of respondents reported having an arranged marriage as of January 2018. Only 3% of couples reported having a “love marriage,” and another 2% said their union was “love-cum-arranged,” which typically means that the couple’s connection was arranged by their family before they fell in love and decided to wed.
This data is instrumental in understanding how little recognition is given to love and, thus, how oppressed the feeling of expression of romance might be to those who have already been marginalized. Most egregiously, the Indian government passed the Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Acts, which the trans community has universally condemned for being more violative than protective, including violating the right to self-determination, failing to provide reservation in education and employment, failing to recognize trans families, and discriminating in punishment for physical and sexual violence against trans people.
Intersectionality and Complicating Factors
Intersectionality plays a crucial role in understanding the privilege of love. Factors such as caste, class, and gender further complicate this privilege. In Indian society, caste and class hierarchies often dictate who is deemed worthy of love and respect. For example, inter-caste or inter-class relationships are frequently met with resistance and societal backlash. Gender norms also play a significant role, with rigid expectations around masculinity and femininity limiting the freedom to love authentically. These intersecting factors create additional barriers for individuals seeking to express and receive love freely.
Theoretical Perspectives
From a theoretical standpoint, the privilege of love can be examined through various lenses. Feminist theory, for instance, critiques the patriarchal structures that govern societal norms around love and relationships. Queer theory challenges the heteronormative frameworks that marginalize non-conforming expressions of love. Sociological perspectives on love, such as Anthony Giddens’ concept of “pure relationship,” emphasize the importance of mutual satisfaction and equality in modern love relationships, highlighting how traditional structures of power and privilege can undermine this ideal. Pure relationships emphasize emotional and psychological intimacy. Open communication and sharing of personal feelings are essential components. This intimacy is crucial for the relationship to thrive and be fulfilling for both partners. Thus, it helps us understand that relationships can exist and sustain.
Conclusion
The privilege of loving is profoundly personal. It can only be fully understood when individuals share their experiences and stories. This journey goes beyond exploring one’s sexuality and expressing identity; it involves forming safe, loving relationships that are as normal and genuine as any other. It’s about love that can be expressed openly on social media, through poetry, with friends, and in moments of vulnerability. The film Memories in March and the personal stories it evokes underscore the need for a more inclusive and accepting society, where love is recognized as a fundamental right rather than a privilege afforded to a select few. Through continued dialogue and reflection, we can strive to dismantle the barriers that restrict the free expression of love and work towards a more just and compassionate world.
About the Author …
My name is Ankita Kundu. I hold a Bachelor’s degree in Hindi Honors from Miranda House, University of Delhi, and a Master’s in Women’s Studies from Tata Institute of Social Sciences, Mumbai. I am passionate about gender equality, social justice, women’s empowerment, and mental health. In my academic journey, I have explored critical social issues, such as beauty myths in the digital age and the criminalization of denotified tribes. I have published articles in TARSHI and Feminism in India. I aspire to continue my advocacy and research to create a more just and equitable society.
