I never ever thought of myself as a criminal. In fact quite frankly, I do not think about myself at all. I go about my work, enjoy traveling, mingle with friends who are from all walks of life and embrace life as a huge learning curve. Along the way, I learnt that I could be a criminal in the eyes of the law. A certain section in the Indian Penal Code was a dragon that could awaken from its slumber and put me in trouble.

People who talk against amending Section 377 have not even read the law. They call it a gay law which it isn’t. It pertains to all Indians, clubbing together paedophiles, rapists, gays and ordinary couples who indulge in “sex against the law of Nature”. That means that married couples who have oral sex, or anything other than what the missionaries ordained, are criminals. Even if they do this in the privacy of their bedrooms.

Do you know what it feels like to be labelled a criminal? It steals your respect, dignity and confidence. It’s like you are always in a dark cloud with a sword over your head. For a crime not committed. For being born in a way like people have blue eyes or dark hair.

In 2002, when my partner of two decades Jerome Marrel and I signed a French PACS (a civil union recognised by the French government that allows rights and responsibilities), I was unaware of the hype around the event. Here was someone I love deeply and pre-PACS, I could not even sign him on for a medical procedure. I would have to wait for his family to sign a declaration in a life-threatening situation. I couldn’t even bury my beloved. I would stand in separate immigration lines at hostile foreign borders. If one of us passed away, all that we earned together would go to family and not the partner of 25 years. Cruel. Unjust. Depressing.

... contd.