I am waiting at the Leaping Windows café in Versova, Mumbai, for filmmaker Onir, whose claim to fame is My Brother…Nikhil (2005) — a sensitively made film about a gay swimming champion in Goa who faces rejection and violence when he is diagnosed with HIV — and the National Award winning I Am (2010), which engages with subjects like child sexual abuse, sperm donation, the exodus of Kashmiri Pandits, and police brutality against gay men.
He arrives at the appointed time wearing a lovely purple t-shirt, and a tulsi mala around his neck. “It’s a gift from Vrindavan. People think that I’m pious when I wear it but I’m not. I just like wearing it,” he says. An old lady that he met while shooting his documentary Widows of Vrindavan (2018) offered him the necklace as a souvenir from the pilgrim town.
The last time that I saw him was at an event called “The Queer Stories”, hosted as part of the Queer Azaadi Mumbai Pride Month in January 2020. He was one of many storytellers from the LGBTQIA+ community to perform their stories before an audience of friends and family. These were stories of love, sex, acceptance and betrayal. Onir left the audience spellbound.
Today, after he complains about his late night, and I about my bad hair day, I ask if we could talk about the film We Are, his sequel to I Am, which has been in the news recently. The script features a gay soldier falling in love with a civilian. It has been refused a no objection certificate by the Ministry of Defence. Onir says, “I have no intention to portray the army in a derogatory light. I have great respect for the soldiers who keep our borders and us safe.”
The story at the heart of the controversy is one of four separate but interconnected stories in the film. “I developed the idea after listening to the story of an ex-army officer, a major, on NDTV. He had quit because he could not be himself as a gay man in uniform. My film won’t be a biopic. The character is just loosely based on him. There are many fictional elements.”
Onir is disappointed by the censorship of queer stories even after Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code was read down by the Supreme Court in 2018 to decriminalise queer intimacies. “I am not here to make films that will make homosexuality acceptable. Filmmaking should not be tailored to viewership habits, eyeballs and numbers. I want to make honest films,” he says, between sips of a cold beverage called Coconut Twist, while I enjoy a banana smoothie.
He says, “Studios that had committed to the project have backed out because I spoke out. I have sent an appeal to the Ministry of Defence to enquire about further steps. I really want to make this film. I don’t have anything against the army. I interact with them regularly. I conduct filmmaking workshops with them, and get a lot of love and respect.”
Our food is served. Onir relishes his Jamaican Grill — all-spice chicken breast, with roasted potatoes and green beans — while I bite into a roasted vegetable sandwich. It has been made using sourdough bread. I request for the sour cream to be replaced with cheese. The dish comes with some crunchy suran chips. This meal is as delicious as our conversation.
I ask if he’d like some dessert. There aren’t many options. Only lemon pie is available here. We walk down to a coffee shop called The Barmecha House, which is a few steps away. It is a sweet little place with a warm vibe. Onir gets himself a Tiramisu and an Americano. Banana bread is the only vegan option, so I skip dessert and ask for the House Special — a sandwich with fresh vegetables and paneer, and a “secret sauce” that tastes like peanut butter. We run into the affable Rajat Barmecha, an actor who is best known for his performance in Vikramaditya Motwane’s film Udaan (2010). He runs this place with his brother Vicky.
Onir and I resume our conversation about We Are. Not many people from the film industry have come forth to express solidarity but he is glad that actors Swara Bhaskar, Rajkummar Rao and Gauahar Khan, and filmmakers Sudhir Mishra and Sridhar Rangayan have. “I was touched by the overwhelming support that came from the LGBTQIA+ community,” he says.
While waiting for the obstacles to clear up, Onir is working on other scripts. He is in talks with Afghan-American author Nemat Sadat about adapting his novel The Carpet Weaver (2019), which tells the story of a gay Afghan man’s quest for love and freedom from persecution. “I would like to cast the Palestinian actor Adam Bakri as Kanishka Nurzada.”
This summer, he will be in Bhutan to shoot a gay love story between an Indian and a Bhutanese man. “It will be quite special for me. I spent my childhood in Bhutan. I was there till the age of 16. The only place where I feel at home, emotionally speaking, is Bhutan.” He is working on another film based on the life of author and entrepreneur Raga Olga D’silva, who wrote the book Untold Lies: A Personal Journey to the Truth (2019).
Onir is looking forward to the release of his memoir this June, which he co-authored with his sister, Irene Dhar Malik, who is a film editor. “She remembers a lot of things from my childhood, so I wanted to partner with her on this book. But before we began, I asked her not to be scandalised or to judge me for the things that she is now learning about my youth.”
Going by our conversation, it will be a book worth reading from a man who likes to call a spade a spade even if he works in an industry that is petrified of doing the same.