I had no idea you could be gay and Indian

2003 September 13th  |

The Globe and Mail

Funkasia Fridays created a following - and a community

Special to The Globe and Mail

It wasn’t Madison Square Garden. It wasn’t Marilyn Monroe. And she most certainly wasn’t singing to President John F. Kennedy. It was, instead, South Asian drag diva KIKI Karachi impersonating Ms. Monroe, pouting through the breathy Happy Birthday, Mr. President number.

The occasion was DJ Zahra’s 30th birthday bash last week. But it was also a brilliant farewell to Funkasia Friday.

Hosted by DJ Zahra for five years, Funkasia was a dance party that brought as many as 800 Torontonians to the Yonge and Church neighbourhood’s Fly nightclub on the first Friday of each month.

It was a campy, queer and groovy tribute to Bollywood by DJ Zahra, a.k.a. Zahra Dhanani, an immigration and refugee lawyer by day, music-spinner by night. It was a place to dance to everything from Indian film music and bhangra beats to Caribbean rhythms and R & B. For Seema Mehra, her sister-in-law, Maria Vamvalis, and Roshni Sharma-Fleming, Funkasia was a place to go to listen to South Asian music and have fun.

Funkasia regulars for more than a year, the trio brought along Meenakshi Sharma to the last Funkasia Friday, which is ending because DJ Zahra felt it was time to move on. Ms. Sharma, who is from Amritsar, India, was swept off her feet by the end of the night. “This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” she said.

It’s a completely different experience than what you get at most clubs, Ms. Vamvalis said. “I’ve always had a strong fascination with South Asia,” the 29-year-old said. “I used to see it on TV, and everything about it just moved me.”

“It’s also about going back to your roots,” Ms. Sharma-Fleming said. “Remembering where you come from. I married outside of South Asian culture. It’s really important for me to maintain what my parents taught me. Stuff like this makes me really proud of my culture, especially when it’s going mainstream.”
The gay-friendly atmosphere of Funkasia had Deep Khosla hooked for close to four years.

“It’s not just a gay space, but a gay-friendly space,” said Mr. Khosla, 47. “It’s not just about South Asians, which helped me step outside my ghetto. And to have that combined with my Indian roots, it was just wonderful.

“In fact, I was talking to two non-South Asians. And they regard this as definitive of Toronto.”
DJ Zahra came to Canada with her family in 1976 and moved to Toronto in 1987. In university, she discovered she was gay and initially had a hard time coming out to her family. But eventually, love from her family and friends kept her going, and she wanted Funkasia to serve the same function for others.

Looking around, DJ Zahra said it’s people such as sari queen diva Tanya who make Funkasia what it is. “Tanya is a transgender, living loud and proud among the South Asian community,” she said. “This is what Funkasia’s about.”

“I had no idea you could be gay and Indian,” said Kamal, 26, who declined to give his last name. “Funkasia helped my true self come out. All the friends I have today, who really matter, are people I met at my first Funkasia.”

Although saddened by the loss of Funkasia Fridays, everyone was looking forward to the now annual Funkasia celebrations at Pride parade and the Masala! Mehndi! Masti! festival at Harbourfront. “I’m looking forward to whatever she’s planned next,” Mr. Khosla said.

“I want to have a Funkasia party at the SkyDome,” DJ Zahra said. “Just invite everyone to come join the fun and feel the love, Zahra-style.”

Delhi bar scene blasts off

2003 March 11th  |

Toronto Star, [03/11/2003]

 

Once-sedate city changes with times

Special to the Star

NEW DELHI-Heading down to the hippest bar in the city has become something of a weekend ritual for Samir Sharma.

His current favourite is a bar called Ssteel, a recent addition to the Ashok Hotel, a government-run upscale hotel located in the posh enclaves of South Delhi, a part of New Delhi akin to neighbourhoods such Rosedale or Forest Hill in Toronto.

“I come here every Saturday, sometimes also on Wednesdays,” 28-year-old Sharma says as he signals the bartender to fix him another drink.

It’s barely 10 p.m. on a Saturday and Ssteel is already packed with patrons, mostly young professionals or college students, although an older clientele is also seen shooting the breeze in some corners. A haze of cigarette smoke builds as men and women light up, while sipping on a variety of alcohol.

Nearing daybreak, the bar pulsates with bass beats of music ranging from classic rock anthems by Bon Jovi and Queen, techno and house, R ‘n’ B tunes and Bollywood/U.K. Bhangra (folk music from the Indian state of Punjab with non-South Asian samples such as hip-hop beats usually produced by bhangra bands in the U.K.).

A bar culture in the conservative city of New Delhi, as opposed to the decades-old vibrant night life in the cosmopolitan cities of Mumbai and Bangalore, is a relatively new phenomenon.

While Mumbai and Bangalore have been famous for staying open all night, Delhi used to be known for shutting down by 10 p.m.

Just five years ago, Delhites were hard-pressed to find a place just to hang out, grab a drink, unwind and dance the night away. Clubs, in the form of “discotheques,” or “discs” for short, have existed in the city for several years.

But since they are mostly located in luxury hotels, cover charges cost a pretty paisa or two and a night out could leave your wallet substantially lighter.

Also, clubbing was considered not quite respectable. The thought of free-flowing drinks, men and women, enveloped in cigarette smoke, dancing away into the early morning hours, wasn’t palatable to the average Indian middle-class family.

Not so any more. A new generation of Indians has come of age.

This generation has been brought up on the mantra of free economy. They are, in a sense, Indian citizens with a global sensibility.

They enjoy a lifestyle in which offering prayers at the local place of worship in the morning segues neatly into bar hopping at night. They are as comfortable with the popular culture of the West received via satellite television as they are with the ever-evolving popular culture of South Asia.

They either work at call centres for multinational corporations, dialling up New York as often as they make a local call, or have friends who do the same. McDonald’s and Pizza Hut are as much a part of their diet as is tandoori chicken. Their wardrobe is a mix of Nike and Reebok as well as traditional Indian outfits such as kurta pyjama (long tunic with pants).

This new generation is indulging in its own version of perestroika in New Delhi: the “bring on the vodka” kind.

The launch party for Ssteel a few months ago, for example, was just another event in the city where bars seem to open every couple of weeks. It was another event swarmed by Delhi’s glitterati, made up of business tycoons, film stars, politicians, diplomats, artists and other celebrities. These “Page 3 People” regularly grace the society columns on the third page of the city supplements in Indian dailies.
But a bar in the Ashok Hotel, the flagship hotel in a chain run by the Indian Tourist Development Corporation, is also a sign of the changing times.

It was a makeover, if there ever was one.

A 2,500-square-foot bar was constructed replicating an old liquor warehouse, combining an industrial look with plush interiors.

Ssteel boasts vaulted ceilings, charred brick work, street floodlights, steel girders and columns, black unpolished stone flooring and leather tub couches.

Already a few months old, Ssteel seems to have captivated the imagination of regulars such as Sharma.

Sharma, who helps to manage the family business of aluminium foil products, says he’s not a barfly. He is, however, on a first-name basis with the bartenders and the management.
When Sharma asks the bartenders to top up his already stiff drinks, they oblige with a smile, also offering him first dibs on heady new experimental concoctions.

Bar outings in Delhi give Sharma a chance to catch up with his friends and relax after a busy work week.

“This is what we do when we meet each other,” says Sharma. “I have known some of my friends since I was in university, even high school. So, it’s like a reunion. Otherwise we hardly get to see each other.

“I’ve been partying since I was in university. Before bars started cropping up about two years ago, we used to have discs. You just went with a date or friends, danced and came back. But it was too loud. You couldn’t have a conversation. Now, I can just sit at a bar, enjoy a few drinks, meet some new people and catch up with old friends.”

It’s not unusual for Sharma to spend anywhere between 2,000 to 3,000 rupees ($80 to $100 Cdn.) on an average night in a bar. It’s a sum patrons such as Sharma, who comes from an upper middle-class family, can afford.

“Yeah, we’re rich kids, with richer fathers,” laughs Sharma.

Other bar patrons, such as recent graduate Sumona Roy, fund their lifestyle by working at one of the call centres that multinational corporations are opening in Indian cities.

Roy, who works at one of the many call centres operated by GE Capital Services India, started frequenting bars two years ago, and usually spends between 500 to 1,000 rupees per outing.
“It depends on the place you go to and what all you order,” says Roy, sipping on a tequila sunrise at Buzz, a bar in a shopping complex in Saket, another well-to-do Delhi neighbourhood.
“I like to try out different types of cocktails each time I go out.”

Since she lives with her parents, as is the norm with most young adults in India, especially single women, Roy can afford to “just let my hair down once a week or two.”

Her parents are liberal enough to let her go out when she wants, says Roy. Her girlfriends’ parents let go of their hang-ups about late nights after getting used to the shift work required at the call centres.

“But we always go in a group,” says Roy. “Most of us have boyfriends, anyway. There’s always some loser who tries to pick you up with some corny lines or passes you notes scribbled on a paper napkin. Plus there have some cases recently that make you put your guard up.”

Roy is referring to recent series of rape and other sexual assault cases in the city. Indian media such as the Hindustan Times had deemed New Delhi as “unsafe for women” when several rape cases were reported almost on a daily basis.

“But it’s not like it’s not safe to go partying,” Roy quickly adds.

The rise of bar culture in New Delhi can be seen as a new social ritual of the nouveau riche, says Ritu Birla, an assistant professor of history at the University of Toronto.

“It’s the same thing as the extravagance of an Indian wedding,” says Birla, whose academic interests also lie in consumption culture in contemporary South Asia. “Whether you are upper middle-class or middle-class or even an average Indian family, having a big Indian wedding is something that indicates or elevates your social status. So (for this generation of Indians) that social ritual has been replaced by frequenting bars.”

Besides providing the average Delhite a chance to rub shoulders with the rich and the famous, bars are also a place where some of the persisting social taboos are set aside for a few hours. In a society that still frowns upon public displays of affection, bars offer a space where sexuality is acknowledged in casual flirtation or in a mating dance.

But above all, patronizing bars has become a part of the Delhi lifestyle.

“A typical Saturday evening for me is like go to a bar, have food at a restaurant and then go for a coffee at a (luxury) hotel’s coffee shop or Barista (a chain of cafés),” says 27-year-old Subir Arora.

“Or it’s like: watch a movie, have dinner and then go to a bar for some after-dinner drinks.
“What else do you do on a Saturday night?”