Nothing stops romantics from falling in love, not even an apocalypse. There was Love in the Time of Cholera, and then there was love at the heart of all revolutions. We have it too. It’s called protest dating. I can’t tell you who coined the term, but it first reached my Instagram timeline in July this year when students, Sonam Wangchuk and the Cockroach Janta Party, protested at Delhi’s Jantar Mantar against exam paper irregularities. Couples were holding hands while raising their fists in the air, shouting slogans. Hinge profiles were also updated for the occasion, aka, “Do you want to be my protest date?”
At Jantar Mantar, newly matched daters from Grindr, Hinge and Bumble saw their insignificant others for the first time in real life. They were seen sharing masala pappad, water bottles, and hand fans. Despite the protest site becoming a sweaty chamber due to the massive, massive crowd, love was still in the air. I mean, isn’t being sweaty and smelly the greatest test of any relationship? Some of these came back even after the brutal crackdown by Delhi Police on 20 July. When former Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan resigned—fulfilling the demand of the protesters—Jantar Mantar to Connaught Place was turned into a rave party. Lovers who had found each other during the protest were thanking Pradhan for playing the unknowing, unwilling Cupid.
These are the same daters who have been unapologetic about writing people off for a misalignment in political views. On dating apps, the Right and the Left wing of the population leave disclaimers for each other in clear words—stay away from me. But at Jantar Mantar, where one of these two wings and the former apoliticals found each other, they did not leave it up to chance.
A man from Bihar, who suffered a head injury during the police crackdown, reportedly found his wife at Jantar Mantar. After police struck him on the head, a woman brought him medicines, food and cared for him as he recovered. What a love story! Bollywood should take notes.
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A match made in a detention van
The younglings are back on the streets, this time seeking Chief Election Commissioner Gyanesh Kumar’s resignation—but the vibes are much grimmer this time. And yet, the lovers remain resilient. The singing, dancing and meme-making of the July protests have been replaced by serial detentions. After getting thrashed by the police and shoved onto a bus, one such enterprising Gen Z called his situationship.
“I have been detained. If you want to say anything, say it right now. This is your last chance to tell me you love me,” he said. He hung up only when his fellow detainees’ slogans got too loud for flirting on the phone. I am waiting for him to post an update.
Did he finally hear those three magical words, or was he still in custody of a situationship? Because if this man got an “I love you” out of a police crackdown, half the country’s romantically unemployed population will soon be turning up at police stations, demanding to be arrested. Maybe the jails will fill up, and the insignificant casual flings of the inmates will finally confess their feelings. One can hope.
There’s also a lawyer who has been doing “detention dating”. Her words, not mine. She has been busy pulling minors and adults out of Delhi Police detention centres at ungodly hours, and her partner tags along always. No matter what corner of the city, no matter how scary the situation, they go together everywhere. The partner hadn’t imagined dating a lawyer would be this adventurous, and they are not complaining.
In these inglorious times, love is forbidden, ridiculed and unserious, but that is only making us try harder. Something about living in this phase of human history is generating remarkable bravery.
You are pushed to reach out to other humans and love them. Even the people who walk around with stone-cold organs in their chest (they also call it a heart, by the way) are slowly rising up to love. The guy who ghosted me many months ago has also started texting: “Are you safe? What about today? Are you safe today?” I guess we are back together? One can’t be sure in the Kabhi Haan, Kabhi Naa (sometimes yes, sometimes no) jails of situationships. Irrespective of that, I have hope. Plenty of it.
Views are personal.
(Edited by Insha Jalil Waziri)