Srinagar: It has been more than 40 years since ‘Rosy’ or 'Rose', as she is lovingly called by her counterparts, abandoned the school. But her memory of classmates who earned names and social status in later years has not faded away. She is also least interested in meeting them and often changes her way to escape their sight.
“It feels odd to be among them (classmates),” says Rosy. “I live and earn on my own. Why should I knock on anyone's door? I have held the hand of my God. Their presence revives my inner pain as they would pass lewd comments on my identity and body in school.”
Born as Gulzar Ahmad more than 50 years ago in a south Kashmir village, she relocated to Srinagar in the formative years and stayed in the company of her fellow transgenders. For a major part of her life, she has lived as a tenant in a single room in an old rickety house on the third floor in Srinagar’s congested Barbarshah neighbourhood. Until now, Rosy eked out her livelihood by the trust she has earned from many families for tying wedding knots successfully.
Over the years, the matchmaking replaced by matrimonial sites has dwindled her work. Besides, the rising inflation and expenses, including power bills, have made the modest earnings fall short and turned her to the monthly assistance of the Jammu and Kashmir government.
Now helpless, Rosy is going against her will and meeting one of her old acquaintances from the school to facilitate the paltry monthly stipend of Rs 1000, which has stopped beginning this year for want of some documents. “My documents are complete, but the pension has not been credited to my account so far,” she says while approaching the J&K Social Welfare Department responsible for implementing social schemes for different categories, especially those hailing from vulnerable sections. “I will ask the concerned official known to me to talk to their counterpart in my home district for any discrepancy and process my case quickly.”
Though the amount is too meagre in the face of mounting expenses, she feels it gives her a sense of security in the face of any eventuality. In the past, many trans people in Kashmir had to beg for sustenance in their old age or during the days of no work with the horrors of the COVID-19 pandemic-induced lockdown still afresh.
Unlike other parts of the country, the community comprising 4,137 people in Jammu and Kashmir, as per the last census in 2011, relies on matchmaking for their source of income. Besides, they also perform, like singing and dancing, at weddings, giving them a reason to sustain their lives. However, with matrimonial sites and social media forums pushing matchmaking online, their traditional livelihood means have dried up.
“There is no conducive environment for the community as violence, both sexual and physical and psychological, occurs to them in schools, leading to dropouts. It renders them ineligible for white-collar jobs,” says Aijaz Ahmad Bund, a Kashmiri activist working for the rights of LGBTQ. He has authored the first ethnographic study of the transgender community in the Valley, ‘Hijras of Kashmir: A Marginalised Form of Personhood’.
“There are limited options for livelihood for the community, like matchmaking and performances at weddings. It is a kind of reinforcement from society that you are meant for it,” he says. “But the work has shrunk due to a change in the institution of marriage. This forces many to sell their bodies, especially since there is an escalation in sex work in Kashmir post-Covid pandemic.”
But even worse, there’s a dark underbelly. The trans people identified by the derogatory term ‘laanch’ in the Muslim majority Valley face discrimination and stigma both in private and public, with many forced to leave their families at a young age.
Like, a 31-year-old Nuzhat experienced physical violence at the hands of her two brothers. The persistent beating and abuse prompted her to melt away from her community at the age of 12, living away from her home. “I had feminine traits from the beginning and wanted to do what women would do. I would relate to girls and feel comfortable in their company,” she recalls.
Initially, Nuzhat would feel claustrophobic at home and question her identity in the face of slurs and negativity from the people around her.
“I would silently weep during the night after starting to live as a tenant three kilometres away from my home,” sighs Nuzhat. With a wry smile, she says that peace and comfort trickled in the company of trans people.
Heartbroken by her condition, her mother would call her secretly to stay in touch. “One day, I learnt from her that my elder brothers abandoned their old parents after their marriage. That is when I visited my home for the first time after 11 years, and since then I have been taking care of my parents,” she adds.
But with work orders shrinking, the distress is worrying Nuzhat about the future, saying, ‘As long as we earn, we smoothly run our lives.’ “But once our income dries up due to old age or illness, we have nowhere to go.”
In Kashmir, the graveyards are mostly inherited as a form of property from forefathers or parents, but as the community members face evictions from their homes, they are also forced to give up on their properties. This includes the graveyard as well, leaving them to struggle for a burial place.
“Whenever a member of our community dies, particularly those who have no ties with their families, they are forced to die on the roads," reveals the rights activist Bund.
This discrimination and helplessness in society has prompted Bund, who is also an assistant professor in the J&K higher education department, to knock the Jammu and Kashmir and Ladakh High Court with a plea seeking implementation of the Supreme Court judgement of the National Legal Services Authority (NALSA) in 2017. The landmark verdict by the apex court a decade ago recognised the rights of third gender and issued directives to state and central governments to ensure fundamental rights for trans people.
“We had filed a case in the State Human Rights Commission too (but it was abandoned with the abrogation of Article 370),” Bund told ETV Bharat. “The High Court has issued some interim judgements so far, but no comprehensive policy has been implemented so far. We want reservations in education and jobs for the community, but it seems a distant dream.”
In the public interest litigation, Bund said they have also highlighted discrimination faced by trans people in hospitals with a focus on getting basic health services. "They are all treated as HIV positives and are considered untouchable. I have seen their approach in dealing with our community.”
Transgenders in Kashmir, according to a study ‘Health(care) matters: where do the transgender individuals of Kashmir situate themselves’ published in 2023, prefer treating their health issues mostly through local pharmacies or patent medicine vendors instead of visiting the medical professionals in the organised sector.
Citing instances, the study published by Oxford University Press said transgenders were also found to delay their decisions to seek care or simply decide to remain far from any medical intervention, leading to the underutilisation of formal healthcare services. It also undermines the transgenders' right to proper health and well-being.
In the last hearing on October 16, the J&K High and Ladakh High Court sought a report disclosing action taken by the government for the identification of transgenders and disclosing the name of the hospitals where the medical care facilities are available to the community. Besides, it sought a report on the framing of schemes for the grant of pensionary benefits to the community.
Advocate Iqra Khalid, who alongside senior advocate Jayna Kothari is appearing for the petitioner, said they are seeking baseline measures and dignity in life and death for the community.
“A lot of orders were passed by the High Court, but nothing changed on the ground,” she said while citing several measures, including registration of trans people, that have not been conducted so far. The 2011 census, according to her, is low as many hide their identity in a hostile environment of stereotyping and stigmatisation of the community.
The lawyer pointed out the previous census population is low and that the actual number stands at 15000, with 5000 alone in Kashmir.
“The crucial step is seeking one reservation in jobs and educational institutions for trans people,” she said. The reservation bid mimics the Karnataka government's policy of one per cent reservation to the trans community in the government sector. “We are advocating for this, as it would be a significant move towards empowering them," she explained. "Other initiatives can follow, but they require accurate population data for the community."
