5 Fits With Parmesh Shahani

HE TAKES ON THE WORLD LIKE A ONE-MAN CULTURAL weather system. A scholar, a provocateur and a benevolent disruptor in a hand-stitched kaftan. Over three decades, Parmesh Shahani has shapeshifted with improbable grace. From the corridors of Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), where he co-ran a think tank on media convergence, to glossy editorial suites. From launching India’s first youth website in 1999 to authoring Gay Bombay and Queeristan, two books that have become touchstones for an entire generation navigating identity and belonging. Now, with his publishing imprint Queer Directions and its latest anthology, Queer India Now, he’s championing a new generation of queer storytellers.

Today, as the head of the Godrej DEI Lab, he orchestrates inclusion across six companies within one of India’s most storied conglomerates—a role that emerged from a decade-long experiment in bringing art, queerness and counterculture into the beating heart of corporate India. He is, by his own admission, deeply introverted and anxious, yet his presence commands otherwise: extravagant necklaces assembled from village pottery shards, flowing silhouettes acquired from both Kochi and Kolkata, a personal style so singular that it functions like a moving autobiography.

We sat down with Shahani to discuss queerness, self-expression, style and the rest.

You move between boardrooms, literary festivals, fashion events and activism spaces with equal ease. Does your style shift depending on the room or is it consistency for you?

My style does not shift across the room because I don’t have time! I wear one outfit in the morning and come home at night. Who has time for style to shift? But what I have developed over the years is a very personal and confident style. And a sense of ease. I’ve developed a sense of comfort in who I am. I know who I am.

Do you think your relationship with aesthetics and visibility changed as you became more comfortable and confident after coming out?

For me, fashion has always been incredibly important—it’s foundational to who I am. Even when I was in school, around Class 8 or 9, I was drawn to bright colours. I loved neon; I loved making a statement. I’m 50 now, so I grew up in the ’80s and ’90s—a world of pop culture, colour, Madonna and self-expression. I was a fabulous queer boy growing up in a very different India and fashion became a way of asserting myself. I remember one day, for my school’s annual day, I wore these striped neon shorts with a matching striped neon co-ord set and hot pink shoes—I thought I looked fabulous. But I was bullied and my pants were pulled down in front of the entire school. It was traumatic and deeply embarrassing, as you can imagine. I ran home crying and didn’t attend the annual day. But when I got home, I told myself: the bullies could squash me, or I would be exactly who I am and rise above them. If I chose to conform, it meant they had won. So, I decided I was going to continue being myself. And you know what? The bullies aren’t the ones being interviewed by Esquire about their 5 Fits today [laughs].

What was the moment you fell in love with fashion and menswear?

When I saw Amitabh Bachchan’s gigantic bow ties in Don (1978), I was completely fascinated. That started a bow-tie phase for me that lasted almost 25 years. I haven’t stopped wearing them in the exact same way. It’s just that now I have so many that they’ve become part of a much bigger wardrobe. A lot of what I wear today is more flowy and Indian-inspired and it’s admittedly quite difficult to pair a bow tie with a kaftan! But for me, bow ties represented this elegant, dramatic and fabulous sense of dandyism.

How would you define your personal style today?

I still love neon and bright colours, but now that expression has expanded into textiles, movement, flow, statement necklaces and extravagant accessories. Comfortable shoes, always—but fabulous ones! I travel often and whether I’m in a village on the outskirts of somewhere while doing NGO work or exploring a new place, I’m always drawn to objects and crafts. I might pick up a series of small pots and, before I know it, they’ve become a necklace. I’ll find beautiful textiles somewhere and bring them back to my tailor in Mumbai, who transforms them into incredible scarf pieces.

Which designers inspire your style choices?

I think I inspire my own style choices. Of course, I’ve collected and shopped from a whole range of designers over the years—people including Kallol Datta, who used to create pieces for me; Sreejith Jeevan from Kochi; Lovebirds and many others. But more often than not, I don’t wear something exactly as it comes. I love taking pieces and transforming them. I might buy a Raw Mango odhni, for example, and take it to my tailor to turn it into something completely different. Or I’ll combine an antique neckpiece with a contemporary piece from Manifest Design Studio—something in resin, for instance—and create a look that feels uniquely mine.

A look from the past that you’d like to bring back?

The glamour and big hair of Dimple Kapadia.

A clothing item or accessory you’re on the hunt for?

I’ve become more and more interested in capes.

If you had to wear just one outfit for the rest of your life, what would it be?

One of my many soft kaftans!

Which pop culture figure do you consider ultra-stylish and why?

Ranveer Singh’s sense of style, to me, feels effortless. There’s a difference between someone wearing something because a stylist has suggested it because it’s “edgy” and someone who genuinely owns what they wear. I love people who push the envelope, who take something and make it completely their own.

What would you never ever wear and why?

I’d never wear tight clothes. No skin-tight jeans, jeggings, cycling shorts or a really fitted suit. I’d never wear non-natural fabric either. Only cotton and silk.

Having helped create experimental spaces inside one of India’s oldest business houses, was there any resistance initially to bringing art, queerness and counterculture into this corporate conversation?

Often, we imagine organisations or institutions might be resistant, queerphobic or not open to change and possibilities. But the truth is, they’re often just ignorant or unaware. So, most people don’t even try because of the fear that their organisation is going to be resistant.

When I joined Godrej 14 years ago, I’d just come back to India from Boston. I had a partner at the time who was in America but we were considering whether he should come here. I asked my boss Nisa Godrej [executive chairperson of Godrej Consumer Products] and the head of HR whether the company had a same-sex partnership benefit policy because at MIT, we were sharing a lease, were on university insurance and things like that. When I asked, they said, look, we don’t know because no one has asked this question before! But the next sentence they said is,“But you should have it so why don’t you create it?” We had this conversation in the morning, spoke to experts in the evening and had the policy by the end of that day.

In the years that you’ve spent now advocating for inclusion in corporate and cultural spaces, what still feels misunderstood about queerness in India—particularly among urban progressive circles?

People need to understand that the acceptance of queerness is very much part of Indian culture. It is in our history, our mythology, our tradition. And homophobia, in fact, is a British colonial import that they gave us along with Victorian morality. So, I think many people have this misconception that queer rights are a Western global concept.

The truth is, discrimination is a Western concept. And acceptance is not an urban or rural thing. I find many educated people with degrees from some of the best universities in urban India, not understanding this at all. And I find a lot of people who might not have had access to information, quite understanding.

Across Queeristan and Gay Bombay, what larger conversation about queerness, community and India were you most trying to contribute to?

With every book I write or publish, my aim is to bring out the incredible diversity of queer experiences. We are not just one colour—we are the entire rainbow. Queerness exists on a spectrum, and I want to tell the many different stories that make up our community.

If you look at our history, the journey has been complex. In 2009, Section 377 was read down and decriminalisation happened. Then in 2013, that progress was reversed, and in 2018, it was decriminalised again. In the 2013 judgement, there was a particular phrase that stayed with many of us—the court referred to LGBTQ people as a “minuscule minority.” That phrase was deeply hurtful.

What I’m trying to do through my books, through the work we publish, and through everything we create, is to show the world that we are not a minuscule minority. We are a significant part of this nation and of the world. Our stories matter, our experiences matter, and we deserve to be seen in all our complexity and diversity.

Has your family always been supportive?

They didn’t understand. Even now, they don’t understand wholly. But they love me for who I am. And for that, I am very happy.

Credits

Words by JEENA J BILLIMORIA

Photographs by RISHI RAJ

Styling by KOMAL SHETTY

Bookings Editor: VARUN SHAH

Location Courtesy: GODREJ ONE, VIKHROLI

To read more stories from Esquire India's August 2026 issue, pick up a copy of the magazine from your nearest newspaper stand or bookstore. Or click here to subscribe to the magazine.