Reading Freud in Bundook Gully

Cinematically vivid and searingly honest, Nautch Boy by Manish Gaekwad is a significant contribution to Indian queer literature

- Siddharth Kapila

I recently complained to a friend that Indian writing in English often uses a voice curated for the Western reader, overexplaining or exoticising local phrases and idiosyncrasies. It can be tiresome to see sindoor turn into “red vermillion” or a samosa described as a “pastry with a potato filling”. How refreshing, then, to chance upon a wholly cinematic book full of phrases such as “jee ghabrana” (to feel anxious) and “Krismas ka prasad” for the cake distributed at Christmas.

Each phrase captures a specific quirk so rooted in its context that anyone raised in Hindi-speaking India would be reminded of an uncle, aunt or other rishtedaar. This was the first thing that struck me as I began reading Manish Gaekwad’s straight-from-the-heart sequel, Nautch Boy: A Memoir of My Life in the Kothas, to his earlier book, The Last Courtesan.