9 min readOct 9, 2022 04:04 PM IST
First published on: Oct 9, 2022 at 06:20 AM IST
Last Friday had many of us from Delhi rushing to Gurugram to attend the opening night of Tushar Tyagi’s Yellowstone International Film Festival at DLF Cyber Park. Despite the early evening call for the red-carpet festivities, the auditorium and outside were abuzz with glamour and clamour. Cameras clicking away, cocktails flowing, the glitterfest of the glitterati being lived as rush-hour traffic lit the highway with all shades of ruby, emerald and diamond. It was a transportive moment where attendees had forgotten the hours spent to get to the film festival and now were regaling themselves in the reverie of decadence for an hour before the start of the award ceremony and the Delhi premiere of director Faraz Arif Ansari’s movie “Sheer Qorma”.
In 35 soulfully mind-altering minutes of riveting cinema, Faraz tackles issues that make and break homes and societies. Through a story of family, womanhood, faith and nationality, Faraz courageously brings alive the lives of queer and non-binary people. Their struggles and triumphs are woven into a cinematic coup that takes us beyond personal beliefs and societal morality to embracing one another for our shared humanity and desire to love and be loved.
It is near impossible for women to have equality of access and respect globally in the 21st century. Even more tedious is that same parity for LGBTQ persons. Be born non-binary, and it is a certainty that your life will be fraught with insults and challenges thrown your way by all people, including women and those from the LGBTQ quarters. We all want to be included when it is our inclusion that we are fighting for, but are happy to close the hard-won doors behind us to keep another “other” from seeing the light of day.
One would imagine a gay newspaper columnist to understand what it means to be the other. But think again! Generational misogyny and patriarchal constructs of societal norms have left us all maimed. All my gut-wrenching, heartwarming and teary-eyed conversations with non-binary people I respect have not yet given me verbiage that does their lives and journeys justice. In “Sheer Qorma”, Faraz gives them a seat at the table that comes with equality of access, delicious dining and sharing, and the right to sense a feeling of belonging and dignity.
How lucky that Faraz is the director behind this miracle of a film. They started getting bullied from Grade II onwards. “As I walked down the corridors of the school, the boys called out to me with horrible expletives. We create comfort by surrounding ourselves with things that make us feel less vulnerable, so I was a loner with colorful bags and shoes, stationery always in place. I was organized and well groomed. I suppose that made me more visible and open to being singled out.”
Because India didn’t have as many filmmaking options when Faraz was a teen, they were sent to live with a family friend, Auntie Romila, in Pennsylvania and attend high school with her son, Vihan. Despite Vihan’s protection, life only got worse for Faraz. “In a post 9/11 world, having a Muslim name and being a person of color in America, I had to see bullying through yet another lens. A classmate in Grade XI asked me if I had a bomb inside my bag and if I carried guns. ‘Are you going to kill us all? Isn’t Osama your uncle?’ I felt horrible. I was at the forefront of the comingled Islamophobia, racism, and homophobia. I called home, and Mom said to me, ‘You must grow up and accept life. Buckle up. It won’t be an easy ride. You must become stronger.’ Imagine deep-sea diving. You have only one option. I began to swim—there was no other choice. I learned to find my abilities and strength, and filmmaking became more than just a vocation.”
Life at the best of times isn’t easy for any of us. Some of us have it worse than others; many have it horribly worse yet and still find a way to smile and be decent and caring. These are people I look to with great respect and admiration. I marvel at their being. Faraz is one such person. As I put myself in their shoes, as I write about Faraz, I see how precarious and wretched life must’ve been for them as a youngster. When I asked Faraz how they made their peace with an unfair world and societies that are accepting and tolerant on paper but not in practice, they said, “I make films to escape from reality. It is overwhelming being me. It was in my creativity and my work as a filmmaker where I found solace and acceptance. It is this that compelled me to make “Sheer Qorma”. A world where acceptance becomes commonplace after living life more mindfully. That is why I make films.”
Faraz draws from a deep well of generational goodness and good fortune. Their mother, Marryam, who passed away recently at age 63, was a homemaker and a teacher. She spent her adult life teaching underprivileged kids from her community for free, bringing independence and education to kids living without equality of access. Arif, Faraz’s father, is now their go-to guardian angel in a world that scorns those not easily fitted into boxes of conforming comfort. A businessman by profession, he has always been a most involved and loving father. “He told me that he wanted me to be happy, that was all that mattered. He is very protective and supportive of me. The way he always stands up for me is most incredible. He has never questioned me about my career choices or anything at all. He says that he is there to give me love and support and just wants me to fly.”
Faraz’s decision to fly as a teenager saw them land at Penn State for their bachelor’s and master’s degrees in film direction, theater and screenplay writing with minors in psychology and film production. When I asked them how it was being in college at Penn State, Faraz said, “During my time at Penn I fell in love with a senior. We shared an apartment together. He was a total jock and I a total weirdo. It was a strange love story that became a fairy-tale romance. I lost him in 2009 when he fell off a horse and broke his spinal cord. My parents had known him as my “friend” until then, but at his passing they supported me with the knowledge that he meant more to me than the words gave away.”
Such losses in our lives force us to find ways to be stronger and stronger, as life must be lived. “There are no options; you give in, or you find a way out. I have chosen to find a way out and live and celebrate life daily. I give 100 per cent of myself every day,” says Faraz. In spite of the passing of their fairy-tale lover and that of their beloved mother and the bullying and scorn they have been on the receiving end of for no reason of their own making, Faraz finds a way to love one and all. Their social media posts are all about an abundance of joy and welcome, of acceptance that comes with generous grace and infectious smiling. Faraz lives to love and creates with love. “Sheer Qorma” is no outlier. It is Faraz at their very best.
Short and sweet, rich with gorgeous cinematography and both the spoken and unspoken word, Faraz shows us the power of acceptance and the golden rule by which life must be lived. In living by the golden rule and not just observing it as a figment of speech, we turn life into an echo chamber of goodness and warm welcome for one and all.
The proof of the sheer qorma pudding lies in the love with which it is shared. In “Sheer Qorma”, Faraz gives us all a glimpse of life that is rich when lived with love and acceptance. They show us that belonging in this world is all about accepting the identity of oneself and protecting that of the other. They tell a miraculous story that had the glitterati of the cameras and the red carpet fading away as we left the hall with moistened eyes, seeing hope in a glamorous but fractured world.
Faraz Arif Ansari's film Sheer Qorma shows us that belonging in this world is all about accepting the identity of oneself and protecting that of the other (Credit: Suvir Saran) 
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