Recently, Robin Gupta’s third book The Secret City was launched at Delhi’s Gymkhana Club.
A 75 years old, young at heart, Robin, served with distinction as an IAS officer, is from a good family of means, has facility with words, and is generally interested in what life has to offer.
He’s a brave man, perhaps the first babu to have written a book on how men who like men went about quenching their desire in the 1970-80s when it was a big taboo.
We define and limit our being and that of others. By writing this book Robin broke new ground. He’s said things aloud that are whispered in polite society. He has done it with ‘grace’--the word he used to describe Delhi of the 1970-80s.
Those who know him understand that he has a strong preference, but any description, or giving it a name, is limiting. And the idea of this profile is not to limit him, but to celebrate his pursuit of love, some bold decisions he took, and the audacity to lead a life of his choice. This book is a tribute to his never say die spirit.
The main protagonist of the book is Prince Rupert, a man of ‘good looks and princely refinements’ who ‘filled his day and nights by turning his home with its gilded mirrors….into a refuge for a variety of men and faded women.’ He reveals the underbelly of gay world to Robin who documents it in all earnestness. How people, places came to be associated with the forbidden (fruit). And how this whole garb of secrecy also added to fun.
The feeling one gets racing through the pages of this lucid book: nostalgia with a sense of adventure, and profound sadness that people had to struggle for something as innate as the fulfilment of their desire, however, some struggles are enriching. This struggle shaped their life in substantial measure.
The most potent emotion, that of love, sexuality–is a glue between people–becomes the basis of discrimination, exploitation, and all sorts of afflictions. It required a certain intensity, this potent attraction, to act. Love has a dopy quality to it, all normative boundaries get erased. And people in pursuit of love were both rewarded and shamed.
The Secret City is a work of fiction that brings alive an era. Somebody at the launch described it as “historical”. There are a host of characters who were compelled to fulfil their intense desire and ended up doing interesting things. Resemblances to men dead and alive are coincidental, but please feel free to draw your inferences.
Robin knew Rupert so well that he narrated his personal life in graphic detail, like Sanjaya gave an eyewitness account to King Dhritarashtra about all that was happening, in graphic detail, at the battlefield of Mahabharata.
Some would argue that the main protagonist is Robin himself wearing the garb of fiction. At the book launch, someone asked him directly “how much of it is real?” He, after a second or two of pause, said, “70 to 80 percent” and there are “embroideries” in the narrative. He complimented Ravi Singh of Speaking Tiger, for putting the book together.
There's a bit of moral dilemma, while he’s non-committal about his own proclivities, at least in the book, he gets very discernibly descriptive about others. Some of them are long dead, some alive, and I'm not sure they want to be part of a narrative in the way that they can be intelligently guessed. It’s not a criticism, but an observation.
Wajahat Hibbullah who actively participated in the book launch, one of the panellists, to me at that moment seemed like quick-witted wisenheimer, when he said, “I know many of the people mentioned in the book,” emphasising, “I’m of the same generation.” However, he seemed very surprised to learn that the Central Park in Connaught Place (now Rajiv Chowk) had been a gay pick-up point since the 1960s, even before. He blamed his ignorance on the fact that he had been a busy babu for a good part of his life.
The Secret City is no more a secret. A good read, and makes you happy and sad at the same time. Most of the boundaries are in our own minds. We define and limit our being and that of others. By writing this book Robin broke new ground. He’s said things aloud that are whispered in polite society. He has done it with ‘grace’--the word he used to describe Delhi of the 1970-80s.
It has to be said: Robin has led a more unique life than usual. He is not willing to be bracketed by a term, however, was never in denial. He wasn't closeted nor demonstrative. He did what needed to be done, in a way that he was not offensive, yet assertive at the same time.
Robin knows many people of all hues, and the parties he hosts are the venue of good times. He has many houses, I have only been to the one in Delhi, and is adorned with choicest Victorian furniture, art, and artefacts. It’s a good experience to be there. A jovial futuristic man with an eventful past, Robin is the most generous host. Here you experience the best of the two worlds, the past preserved in objects.
Robin is alone in his palatial house, each object is a story of association, a witness unto his life. Sometimes, it bothers him to live in the past. On one such occasion, not long ago, when the burden of the past became nagging, he auctioned precious silverware, carpets, and art work on social networking sites at throwaway prices.
If intensity of desire is what makes a person young, Robin is one of the youngest persons I have met in a long while. One evening, after drinks and dinner, when I was about to leave, he said, and his voice resonating under the high ceiling, “all I intend is hand holding.” A comforting company like the warmth of the winter sun. That’s not much to ask.
The Secret City will go a long way to make Delhi a city that celebrates diversity in all its manifestations—openly.
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