In Flux/A Rose on the Shoulder

Devana Senanayake

What does friendship mean? We find one interpretation in Chintan Modi’s essay ‘Maan, Firoz and Queer Love in A Suitable Boy’ published in The Hindustan Times. The piece touches on the historical context of male intimacy and friendship in India. Male friendship took a similar trajectory to heterosexual marriage in Pre-Modern India: ‘[Friendship was] a long-term, exclusive, intimate, non-biological relationship, which entails friends living together and sharing everything. Friends exchange vows of eternal fidelity. They give without being asked, and make sacrifices for one another...Friends are often buried or cremated together.’

In Mira Nair’s A Suitable Boy where Maan and Firoz’s ‘dynamic’ stood out to me because it could not be defined. Were they friends? Were they lovers? Perhaps, they were both? What about the transposable roles they occupied as ‘the protector’ and ‘the protected’? How were they also able to balance, like trapeze artists on a tightrope, both their ‘dynamic’ and their heterosexual lovers?  

The TV series, based on Vikram Seth’s novel of the same name, is focused on Lata and her search for a suitable ‘boy’, a husband. The novel is set in the post-Partition period which preceded British rule in India and resulted in the turbulent separation of India and Pakistan in 1947. As a reviewer, S. N. Sehgal wrote about the context of Seth’s novel. ‘Partition was followed by Hindu-Muslim riots, where human values suffered and lost all relevance…This was followed by a two-way migration of people on an unprecedented scale. Those who attempted to seek shelter in their respective strongholds had to undergo torture and humiliation, both prior to and after crossing the border.’ What impact did the creation of a clear cut border - a boundary - a segmentation have on relationships, particularly those such as Maan and Firoz’s? Why did the author, Seth, situate a dynamic that defied definition in a historical period fixated on taxonomy (‘Hindu or Muslim? India or Pakistan?’) over duality or, more importantly, multiplicity?

In episode one, State Minister of Revenue, Mahesh Kapoor and the Nawab of Baitar look for their sons, Maan and Firoz. We find Maan and Firoz under an alcove sipping from a bottle of alcohol. We are reminded that Maan has his familial duty before him — he has been promised to an unnamed ‘girl in Benares.’ A single deep pink rose petal descends from the sky and falls on Maan’s shoulder and Firoz brushes it off, a telling gesture that suggests their closeness and warmth. The scene is echoed in the final episode when a rose petal falls on Firoz’s shoulder and Maan reciprocates - he removes it from Firoz’s shoulder. These cyclical scenes have a ‘tenderness’ (as Mira Nair said) but also an unmistakable intensity. We can never look at Maan and Firoz’s ‘dynamic’ in the same light. This is certainly not a normal friendship or even a romantic friendship - this is ‘more’ than a friendship. The rose petal motif is loaded and layered. We learn that there is a history but the details are never revealed. When did their relationship become romantic? Why did it become romantic? Why did it stop?

We never see Maan and Firoz’s ‘supposed’ relationship start, blossom, reach a climax and end. Maan and Firoz’s dynamic lies on a perpetual plane of suspension. We simply see it evolve and move from that plane, but its trajectory is never expected. The actor, Shubham Saraf, who plays Firoz, said: ‘I think all the other love relationships in the book and series can be given a label - either familial, romantic, intellectual or lust, whereas Maan and Firoz’s relationship cannot be labelled, which makes it very beautiful.’ Maan and Firoz’s ‘dynamic’ is fluid in a series about set labels and fixed destinations. Lata feels the pressure to find a suitable, ‘stable,’ husband from her three suitors: Kabir, Amit and Haresh. Her time around them, her fantasies of them and her thoughts about them are the crux of the series. Unlike in a Western context, love is not personal, in a post-Independence India it is very much a public spectacle made for ‘duty’ tied to a collective rather than for personal happiness.

Within this context, Maan and Firoz are provided the luxury of seclusion, not only in their romantic history but also in their narrative inside A Suitable Boy. Unlike Lata’s courtship, the secondary ‘courtship’ is a beneficiary of class. Maan’s father is a politician and Firoz is from a feudal family of Muslims. While they are around people, such as their family and their lovers, they spend a lot of time in enclosed spaces around each other. They meet in rooms, courtyards or private estates. Even on the outside, for example: in an open air carriage, they are contained from the outside. As a result, their ‘courtship’ is masked and only unveiled momentarily. Maan and Firoz’s ‘bond’ is hidden in plain sight. We, the audience, have to make the connection. We could perhaps use our imagination? We could perhaps project our personal experiences and see ourselves in the depiction? I have never had a Maan or a Firoz in my adolescence, but I am deeply captivated by lithe memories in my adolescence and early adulthood. Moments like ‘If you’d been a boy, I’d totally be into you,’ and ‘I think I like girls’ which bear a resemblance to their dynamic have been stirred up as a response to the series. With the mystery that is enshrouded around them, there is possibility to reinspect and reconsider (in private).

As the element of courtship is secluded, there is no performativity in the dynamic shared by Maan and Firoz. ‘They are past the physical involvement that they definitely had.’ Nair told Vanity Fair. ‘[They have an] old affection. It’s as ancient as the hills.’ Nevertheless, the remnants of the supposed ‘physical involvement’ can be detected in their banter – there are constant verbal proclamations of their ‘old affection.’ When playing polo, Maan complains about the difficulty he has in learning to play the sport. Firoz notes that nothing is fun in the first fifteen minutes and Maan responds, ‘I can think of something that is. Two things actually’. Here, a purely mundane moment is undercut by erotic tension. When Maan is banished from his home, he stays at Firoz’s house. Firoz playfully remarks ‘You’ll be taking that off soon.’ Does it culminate in a physical or a sexual act? We are never told. We are only told by the Nawab that Maan has returned and has been housed by Firoz. Nonetheless, there is no intention to perform, be ‘better’ or ‘impress’ each other. Lata’s suitor’s, particularly Haresh, constantly tries to impress her – he hosts her and her family at his company’s Praha club and spends the entirety of his month’s salary. In comparison, Maan and Firoz are comfortable and secure around each other to just ‘be.’ We see them seated or casually slouched next to each other. They are able to retreat to each other for rest and repose. Unlike Haresh and Lata, Maan and Firoz’s tension feels natural. It feels real, and in a sense, more relatable.

Nonetheless, Maan and Firoz do not have a purely romantic dynamic only. Their bond is a lot deeper because both boys occupy the roles of ‘protector’ and the ‘protected’. When Maan is banished from his house, Firoz delivers his letters and later houses him. Moreover, he lies to the court about the knife incident and tells them that Maan tripped and fell on the fruit knife. Here, Firoz is the ‘protector’ and Maan is the ‘protected’. When Maan saves Firoz from the Hindu mob, Maan becomes the ‘protector’ and Firoz becomes the ‘protected’. These roles, like all their roles, are not fixed. They slip in and out of them as they see fit, as suited for the context. These roles are assumed in response to situations and people. They are indicative of the deep bond they share, the trust they place on each other and qualities they evoke in each other – love, at its best, is a transformative experience that leads to self-actualisation. These roles are also not simply assumed, they are re-interpreted. When Maan is ‘the protector,’ he is brash and loud. He has to scare the mob to save Firoz – a Muslim. When Firoz is ‘the protector,’ he has to tap into deep emotions such as empathy to save Maan and redeem their relationship. While these roles are not fixed, neither are their enactment.

Throughout the series, Maan and Firoz are close, yes, but they appear to have separate narrative arcs. When they are not together, they have separate lovers: Maan pursues the courtesan Saeeda Bai, and Firoz pursues her daughter, and as he later learns his illegitimate sister, Tasneem. Perhaps, the most interesting aspect is that these heterosexual relationships do not impact their ‘dynamic’. They continue to confide in each other, support each other and spend time in each other’s houses with each other’s families. I believe that Maan and Firoz mirror each other, they have parallel storylines that culminate in the same climax. When Maan sees Firoz at Saeeda Bai’s house, he is under the misconception that Firoz is her lover. In reality, he has come to say ‘goodbye’ to Tasneem. Maddened by jealousy, Maan accidentally stabs Firoz. He later learns his mistake and confesses to the ‘murder of his best friend’. When Saaeda Bai and Firoz lie to the court and Maan is saved, Saeeda Bai realises that Maan and her relationship has ended. In a sense, their heterosexual pursuits lead them to each other.

In the final episode, Maan and Firoz are positioned in the same place that they are in episode one. A rose petal falls on Firoz’s shoulder and Maan reciprocates. What is the enactment this time? What is the trajectory this time? We are never told. Unlike Lata and Haresh, Maan and Firoz are still distinct. In one sense, this is because they are queer and unlike the rest of the characters, choose each other over an institution, especially marriage. In another sense, they stand out, because their dynamic is alive. It is borne out of the past, shaped by the circumstances of the present and adapted to the needs of the future. Perhaps they are just like the rest of us? Perhaps, like Lata and Haresh they have found security and stability in each other, only of another kind? This is hinted at to us – the ever, voyeuristic audience. The rose petal scene in episode one and episode six capture the nature of their ‘dynamic’ – episodic, cyclical and constantly in flux.