For these hobbos, life is just a drag

by Sanjay Sharma

AHMEDABAD: By four every evening Kamlesh and Vinod, decked out in bright nylon saris, make their way to the Kalupur Railway Station where they move from one compartment to the next seeking alms.

The deep voices and stubble that shows through the heavy make up on their dark skins; the garish lips bared in lurid red grins; the cheaply lacquered nails; the contrived profanity - all add up to the same initial reaction: eunuchs, hijras, chakkas. A hurried fumbling for a bill-fold and a tenner quickly changes hands before they move on to the next cubicle. Invariably, an evening's takings tots up to Rs 300.

Enough to keep them and their wives and children comfortably-fed, decently-clothed and sheltered. For they do have wives and yes, they also have children, because both Kamlesh and Vinod are not "blank cartridges," as some American dictionaries define eunuchs.

They belong to an ever-increasing tribe of "entrepreneurs," that mixes a wicked cocktail of double entendre, embellished with 'drag,' a whiff of mannerisms and a subtle arm-twist to prod the public into "getting rid of the embarrassment," as quickly as possible.

The whole technique is reminiscent of Victor/Victoria. This, little-remembered, Holly-wood production tells the story of Victoria - a hungry, out-of-work actress in post-war France who is pulled back from the brink of trading her virtue for a meatball by an equally out-of-work agent from the entertainment business who suggests she star in a show as a man impersonating a woman. Since Victoria actually is a woman, he reasons, she would make the best "impersonator," in the history of show-biz provided she can convince the world she is a man - Victor. Her alibi, of course is her "promoter," (later turned lover) who is a homosexual.

Ingenuity is not a Western prerogative alone, however, and the playwright who wrote the twisty tale of the woman-impersonating-man-impersonating-woman protagonist, is obviously not the only one to figure out "drag" can pay.

These "cross-dressers" are not the least bit bashful about their livelihoods when anyone (eagle-eyed enough to see through the padded chest and the carefully-worn veneer of a neutered gender) accosts them. Kamlesh immediately goes on the defensive: "What is my offence? Is it a crime to wear a sari and lipstick ? Have I even once said I am a chakka ? All we are doing is spreading our palms in front of travellers, if they feel like, they put some money into them...otherwise we move on."

But what about the innuendo? A young passenger travelling alone tells Vinod in a tone of dismissal (khulle) nahin hai! (I don't have any (change)). The repartee is extremely suggestive as the latter gestures in the general direction of his loins: Mera bhi to nahin hai (even I don't have any).

In the next cubicle, the conservative Ashish Jain hurriedly fumbles in his wallet for a five-rupee-note. He has three boys aged between 11 and six and can hardly be looking forward to answering awkward questions to satisfy their curiosity. And while the 11-year-old Ravi sniggers at his father's discomfiture, his youngest brother asks a harried Mr Jain why "these men are dressed like this?" Later Mr Jain confides he is frankly "scared" of hijras. "They can do anything...they lift up their saris and make lewd gestures in front of family members if you don't give them what they want...they even get physical at times...it is sheer extortion," he says. He shakes his head in disbelief, however, when he is informed the duo he just gave a fiver to were poseurs in drag.

Yeh hamara tatish hai (these are our tactics)! says Kamlesh. He says the primary targets are families travelling together. "Where there are young girls or womenfolk in the party, the notes are fished out in anticipation of our arrival," he chortles.

Sociologists who savvy body-language say it is easy to spot a male impersonating a eunuch "a mile away" because of the inherent humiliation of having to masquerade as a castrated individual. "Even the verbiage is tell-tale," says anthropologist-psychologist A P Mishra. "Where a true hijra is vulgar and holds nothing back irrespective of who (s)he might be begging from, these 'transvestites' are more polite and less profane." The former Allahabad University professor also points out that eunuchs seldom move around in groups smaller than five or six since most of them live in communes. He maintains, however, that both 'breeds,' work on the same Achilles heel - awkwardness!

But what about Vinod's and Kamlesh's families? Aren't they embarrassed by the manner in their 'bread-winners' earn their bread? Apparently not. Both have five children between themselves four of whom even go to the municipality school. "We were forced into this because no one wanted to employ us." They insist the idea was their own and they struck upon it when they saw the kind of money people were willing to pay just to get rid of the nuisance of being pestered by a flock of the third gender as against the loose change they grudgingly parted with to blind or maimed beggars.

"It was extremely difficult for us at first, because our childhood friends taunted and jibed," says Vinod. "But we grew our hair and nails and moved to a different locality," where our neighbours have come to accept us the way we are.

In a time where the crime and unemployment graphs are in direct proportion. In an age where salvation is no longer the key to unlock the doors of charity. Ingenuity and a sound knowledge of human psychology must be the watch-words for survival.