Can Bollywood take a bold leap like Carol in showing LGBT love?

The chemistry between Carol Aird and Therese Belivet begins the moment their eyes meet for the first time in a toy store on a cold afternoon, just before Christmas. But this is Manhattan, 1952, and the Stonewall riots paving the way for the modern fight for LGBT rights in the United States are still years away.

And so, their relationship, at first confused, later assured, remains in the closet.

Todd Haynes’ brilliant film Carol, based on Patricia Highsmith’s novel The Price of Salt, was selected to compete for the Palme d'Or at the 2015 Cannes Film Festival, where it won the Queer Palm.

The film, set more than half a century in the past, is of much relevance today, especially in India, which stands at the cusp of a major change in the struggle for its own gay liberation movement.

The Supreme Court, earlier this week, referred the matter of the constitutionality of Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code which criminalises homosexuality, to a five-judge bench, providing a glimmer of hope to the LGBT community of the country.

Much like in the equally poignant Blue is the Warmest Color (set in modern times), the viewers of Carol are allowed to take their time in witnessing the blossoming love between two women: the middle-aged eponymous heroine played by Cate Blanchett and the young aspiring photographer coming to life through Rooney Mara.

Rooting itself firmly in its times, Carol differs from Blue is the Warmest Color by showing lovers forced into a clandestine relationship, not unlike many same-sex partners in India today.

While Blue... takes us on a complete journey of the relationship between two women over the years with all its ups and downs, Carol gives us a glimpse into the beginning of what seems to be a stunning love affair.

Both films remain realistic and sensitive in their story-telling.

The 1950s were a time where one struggled to even find the right words to describe a same-sex relationship openly. For instance, confronting her intense attraction for Carol, Therese asks her boyfriend: "Did you ever hear of it? Two men who fall in love suddenly with each other, out of the blue?" and then adding, "I suppose it could happen, though, to almost anyone, couldn’t it?"

Carol’s husband, while filing for divorce and complete custody of their daughter cites a "pattern" in his wife’s behaviour, taking female companions, as the main reason for the custody battle.

Her attorney, too, is ill at ease to explain what her husband has accused her of.

Although same-sex relationships in cinema now seem rather commonplace in the US, Carol had been in development for over 15 years, which is not surprising given Hollywood’s disposition to male-centric, heterosexual films.

In India, however, one is still subjected to the caricaturisation of homosexual people in cinema. They are either relegated to the background or used to perpetuate stereotypes: homosexual men as characteristically effeminate and women as mostly masculine; and this representation is obviously non-flattering. Most often, these characters are a source of ludicrous humour.

A recurrent scene from Bollywood’s darling Karan Johar’s film, Kal Ho Na Ho comes to mind where Kanta ben reacts in horror to a mock display of affection between Shah Rukh Khan and Saif Ali Khan.

And there is also Dostana, produced by Johar, where two straight men pretend to be gay and fall for the same woman. Girlfriend, although claiming to deal with lesbianism, was eventually a mere lens to satisfy male fantasy. Little wonder then that it garnered criticism from the LGBT community.

It would be asinine to brush off the offensive slights that are on offer from Bollywood, for the film industry’s influence on the public cannot be underestimated.

Carol, on the other hand, departs from the male gaze in depicting affection and desire between two women; it is a frank and sympathetic rendition of a relationship considered unconventional and immoral, even criminal at the time. But a gaze does exist in the film, one that triggers the love affair between Carol and Therese. The constancy of that gaze allows us as viewers to follow the women through their eyes, each one finding the other an epitome of beauty and allure.

Carol’s accomplishment lies in the subtle handling of the delicate matter of lesbian love by two men: director Todd Haynes and cinematographer Edward Lachman; the duo has worked on another gay film: Far From Heaven.

Carol is also refreshingly divorced from male intervention, although it takes place in a male-dominated world. With the exception of Carol’s husband, Harge, devastated by the discovery of his wife’s orientation, male characters function mainly from the margins.

In a bold moment, Carol declares in a room full of men, including her husband and their lawyers, that she doesn’t regret "what happened with Therese."

Should it replicate such sensitivity toward sexuality, mainstream Indian cinema has the capability to herald a new dawn in a country where members of the LGBT community still face stigma, police brutality and ostracism.

There already are examples of films made with rare sensibilities in our own backyard: Deepa Mehta’s Fire, which led to protests in India; My Brother Nikhil, about a gay man who tested positive for HIV; and more recently, Margarita With A Straw, tackling the dual issues of disability as well as homo- and bisexuality.

Like Therese’s friend tells her one day: "You either are attracted to one another or you’re not. It’s like physics." India should hopefully understand soon that this is what the fight is all about.