- 1 The term “gender nonconforming communities” (GNCs) refers to a diverse range of alternative sexual (...)
- 2 Also termed as kothi/koti“kotis” refer to effeminate men who cross-dress, though defining them prec (...)
- 3 I fully acknowledge the contributions to this article by the anonymous referees, the editor and cop (...)
- 4 Many scholars (Hinchy 2019; Salian 2023; Bashir and Pandey 2024) have indicated that a significant (...)
1Historically, diverse groups of marginalized South Asian gender nonconforming communities (GNCs1), such as the hijras and kotis,2 have relied on multilayered erotic, ritualistic, and religious performances to earn their living because of their systemic exclusion from employment.3 Today, these performances may serve as a source of inspiration for engendering, inducing, and emboldening expressions of self-identity (Hossain, Pamment, Roy and Shepherd 2022). However, these communities continue to face significant structural inequalities, their performative acts often being disapproved of by the Indian State. Some of their professions are criminalized and viewed as a form of begging, which is prohibited in India. In both colonial4 and postcolonial contexts, there has been a persistent focus on modernity and heteronormativity, resulting in ongoing legal scrutiny and the policing of their livelihoods (Kumar 2021).
- 5 In launda naach, young men cross-dress and dance as women.
- 6 A hijra gharana is a hierarchical, familial-like social structure within the community, providing o (...)
2This paper uses the term “gender nonconforming communities” (GNCs) to specifically refer to the koti communities, my primary research collaborators. Kotis fluidly identify themselves based on context, activity, and profession. During ritualistic performances such as badhai, challa, and launda naach,5 they prefer to call themselves hijras, working under the guidance of local hijra gharanas6 and sharing part of their income with the hijra guru. This close connection allows them to participate in various religious and cultural activities of the hijra gharana.
- 7 Giriyas are kotis’ lovers and boyfriends.
3Despite these ties, their distinctive lifestyle and sexual practices shape their identities in unique ways: i) those having sex with men are termed dhurani, ii) educated urban individuals are referred to as bhelki koti (meaning confused or elite kotis), and iii) those having sex with women are called chiptibaj (with chipti meaning vagina). Married kotis are known as chiyawali koti (where chiya means marriage) and often play the role of husband, father, and lover to their giriyas.7 Notably, akin to the velocity of kaleidoscope movements, a koti can use a variety of “ontological tricks” to shift identities and illustrate their selves based on context and choice (Ghosh 2022b).
4In recognizing this fluidity and dynamism in the kotis’ use of their identity to enhance their life chances, this paper uses the term GNC, not with the aim of homogenizing their subjecthoods but of acknowledging the nebulosity of their embodied performative practices. I also retain the term “transgender,” the official category for all GNCs in India, which is used in the texts and statements I cite. This paper, grounded in ethnographic evidence, illustrates how the state and its agencies perpetuate the vulnerabilities of hijras, kotis, and other GNCs. By documenting state violence and brokerage systems targeting GNC communities, this work challenges the criminalization of GNC livelihoods under anti-begging statutes, directly informing advocacy for legal recognition of ritual economies as legitimate work.
5While recognizing the complexities of applying Global Northern terminology to gender nonconforming identities in South Asia, I prefer the term GNCs which reflects the contextually fluid identities that hijras, kotis, transgender individuals, and other GNCs adopt, resisting fixed classifications. Gender nonconforming individuals in South Asia sustain their livelihoods through a wealth of traditions involving reciprocity and exchange, expressed through multidimensional performances. These diverse performances are referred to locally as badhai, challa (or mangti) in India and Bangladesh, and as dheenga in Pakistan.
- 8 Izzat, meaning respect, is central to the hijra community’s social organization. For Reddy (2005), (...)
- 9 This term is officially recognized in India, Nepal, and Pakistan. In Bangladesh “third gender” is u (...)
6Badhai (Loh 2011; Reddy 2022), the practice of performing ritualistic blessings and of collecting alms at celebrations, such as weddings and births, is a primary means of livelihood for hijras and kotis, and enhances izzat8 for them. It has recently been framed by state narratives as a desirable “transgender”9 profession according to new legislation in India, Pakistan, Nepal, and Bangladesh. Challa involves soliciting alms in public spaces, such as bus stops and railway stations, combining ritualistic and erotic elements as hijras engage playfully with men while wearing alluring attire and offering blessings in exchange for money. By contrast, khajra refers specifically to sex work performed by hijras/kotis in public places, which is viewed as less prestigious by hijra gurus (Ghosh 2019) and is publicly denounced.
7A closer look at these performative practices reveals their fluid and ambiguous nature. Scholars, such as Hossain et al. (2022), note considerable overlaps between these cultural expressions and challenging rigid classifications. While hijras historically claim badhai as their primary practice, they also often engage in challa or khajra. Similarly, kotis take part in badhai performances, showcasing the performative flexibility of these identities as they navigate complex socioeconomic landscapes marked by marginalization.
8This paper examines how the postcolonial Indian state has consistently disapproved of hijras and kotis’ performative acts, equating them with begging (bhiksha), which is illegal. For centuries, hijras and kotis in India have relied on socially accepted livelihoods involving erotic, ritualistic, cultural, and religious performances. Despite structural inequalities, these performances foster community expression and resilience. Kotis primarily engage in ritualistic soliciting during the day, supplementing their income with khajra in the evenings. During the wedding season, they sometimes travel to northern India to stage erotic performances (launda naach) and to take part in badhai for newborns, alongside hijra gurus. They maintain strong ties with local hijra gharanas, which designate areas for ritualistic soliciting, and they share their earnings with hijra gurus. Challa, therefore, remains their primary occupation. However, their multifaceted performances, especially challa, now face increasing scrutiny and legal challenges. In Bangladesh, these practices are classified as a public nuisance (Hossain 2021), while in India, media reports label their activities “a nuisance,” “unruly” and “violence” (The Indian Express 2015; Pradhan 2016; Hindustan Times 2019; Telangana Times 2023; The News Tide Global 2023).
- 10 The RPF is an armed force of the Government of India, which comes under the Ministry of Railways, t (...)
9This shift in perception and judicial treatment reflects the complex tensions between traditional cultural practices and modern legal frameworks. In December 2022, the Indian Railway Protection Force (RPF)10 arrested 1,200 “transgenders” for “misbehavior” in an Indian city (Mishra 2023). While such arrests do not always reflect social endorsements as revealed by my field experience, the negative characterization of challa by state agencies fails to recognize the cultural and economic significance of such embodied practices. Reports also present commuters as “victims.” These narratives portray “transgenders” as “beggars” engaging in indecent and violent acts. The tendency to represent GNCs as a homogeneous group has major political implications (Kinnvall and Svensson 2018). The state’s classification of certain “transgender” livelihood as “begging” creates asymmetrical meanings (Martineau, Meer and Thompson 2012) and exemplifies everyday forms of state-sanctioned violence against them. While the practice of giving ashirvad (blessings) is primarily associated with hijras and kotis, the state’s interpretation of their embodied performances, without these communities’ own input, creates a “paradox of representation” (Dixon and Peachy 2012). This process is entrenched in hegemonic thought and knowledge systems, causing an erasure of marginalized voices and overlooking the intricate sociocultural importance of these practices for the hijra and koti communities (Bose and Gordon 2019).
- 11 The term Khwaja Sarais in Pakistan is used as an umbrella category similar to the use of the term h (...)
10Incidentally, in the past decade or so, there have been “revolutionary” (Hussain 2019) deliberations favoring GNC communities in South Asia in terms of judgements, legislation, and policies. Despite legislative advancements in India, Bangladesh, and Pakistan, access to rights for gender nonconforming identities such as hijras, khwaja sarais,11 and kotis remains limited (Islam 2019; Bhattacharya, Ghosh and Purkayastha 2022; Chakrabarti and Das 2023; Akter and Saha 2024; Alamgir 2024). In Bangladesh, the recognition of hijras as a “third gender” in 2013 was a key milestone. Pakistan followed with the 2018 Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act, allowing self-identification and prohibiting discrimination (Nawaz and Safdar 2023). However, a 2023 Federal Shariat Court ruling undermined this protection for khwaja sarais and hijras, raising concerns about their future rights (Riaz and Awan 2023). India’s 2019 Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act aimed at prohibiting discrimination and at enhancing social welfare. Yet a controversial 2024 new MBBS curriculum from the National Medical Commission omitted crucial transgender health-related content and referred to “sodomy and lesbianism” as unnatural sexual offences, “gender identity disorders” and “abnormalities,” further marginalizing gender nonconforming individuals (The Hindu 2024; Washington Blade 2024). A review of some of the “favorable” pronouncements of the Indian state and its agencies led Saria (2019:134) to argue that “far from ensuring the rights of transgender citizens, what these pieces of legislation achieve is to transform transgender persons and communities into a legible, enumerated population.”
11This misrepresentation of performative livelihoods such as badhai, challa, and khajra reflects the way India is seriously lagging behind its neighbors in making these populations lawful. The Pune police order on April 10, 2024, effectively prohibiting begging and ritualistic performances by the transgender community under Section 144 of the CrPC (Begum 2024), reflects systemic injustices as a result of the state’s illegibility of these identities. While it is common knowledge that, due to a lack of other viable occupations, hijras and kotis regularly solicit money from passengers on trains, at traffic signals, and on national highways, the extreme precarity, the risks, and the actual actors involved in such networks have not been discussed either by the media or researchers. In this context, this paper addresses the nature of violence that such categorization engenders and focuses on three critical issues:
12First, why does the postcolonial Indian state equate specific performative acts executed by GNCs, and particularly hijras and kotis, with begging despite the cultural significance and diverse nature of such practices? Scholars like Tesăr (2015) have, however, challenged the distinction between “work” and “begging” since the latter is a form of “work,” requiring physical training and attention. Conceptualizing begging as self-employment acknowledges individual agency and adaptive strategies within socioeconomic constraints, challenging traditional notions of work, while highlighting the complex interplay between economic necessity and personal dignity. If we frame begging as work driven by personal agency, then ritualistic soliciting falls under the same conceptual umbrella, rendering distinctions between these activities often arbitrary.
13And yet GNCs in South Asia vehemently protest against their categorization as beggars. Framing their work as ritualistic soliciting and therefore “proper work,” GNCs engage in a complex nature of respectability politics that equate work with moral worth. They strategically frame their economic activities within postcolonial notions of work while distancing themselves from the stigma associated with begging.
- 12 A fine is an official payment with a set rate and receipt, while a bribe (or baksheesh) is an unoff (...)
14Second, the act of detaining, imprisoning, fining, or demanding bribes12 from GNCs on account of an “indecent code of public behavior” is rife in the India. Daily violence against them involves a complex interplay of public harassment, gentrification, and police brutality (Kolysh 2021); and this despite the fact that GNCs are an integral part of both the local economy and the sociality of the spaces where they live and perform. These violent actions hierarchize and categorize their performances in public spaces. In doing so, they demonstrate how state violence plays out in ordinary tactile and intimate ways (Sehdev 2022) and moralize repercussions for embodied GNC subjecthood. Hence, we need to investigate the way violence is committed via interactions and exchanges between state actors and GNC individuals.
15Finally, since the COVID-19 pandemic, there has been a rise in unlawful alternate networks of agents claiming to be state employees who specifically target GNC performers. The RPF can levy fines on any passenger for traveling without a valid ticket, but they have to give a receipt on payment of the fine. However, in reality, official records are barely maintained, whether of the mock arrest or of the payment of the fine. Actors posing as federal government employees claim to act in collaboration with the RPF. They make mock arrests of GNC individuals and release them after collecting exorbitant fines. In return, officially employed state actors (e.g., TTEs, RPFs, etc.) receive a share of the fines. In other words, the officials claiming to curb illegal and indecent “transgender” acts in public spaces are actually involved in facilitating illegal networks. As a corollary, unlawful forms of fining by regular state officials prevail over forms of “transgender” livelihoods which the state identifies as “illegal.” My findings reveal the need to engage forthrightly with peripheral communities on their own terms, drawing from diverse traditions of knowledge.
- 13 The names of all respondents have been changed for the sake of privacy.
- 14 I use feminine pronouns (her and she) to refer to them as members of this group’s preferred identit (...)
16This paper is based on ethnographic data as a result of my active reflexive participation as an invited participant within a group of GNCs in the process of ritualistic soliciting. In the process, I also collected narratives from koti performers and the opinions of railway staff, police officers, and traveling ticket examiners (TTEs). Between December 2022 and April 2023, I met up again with my research collaborators in West Bengal, India. I was invited in due course by Meena13 to join her14 group for ritualistic soliciting. It was a spontaneous offer, which I took up because of the opportunity to interact with and see some of my very close collaborators engage in their work. As part of this research journey, I met several members of Meena’s group, including Koel, Chameli, Jasmine, Tikli, Rani, and Anita, and I collected narratives from them. With them were other kotis who performed challa intermittently but they were not regular members of Meena’s group, namely Ahsok and Bijan. I also interviewed an RPF officer and a TTE, both of whom were in charge of the train lines on which Meena and her group earn their living. I applied the “ethnomimetic method” (O’Neill et al. 2002), which allowed me to gain embodied, visceral knowledge by joining in performative practices alongside the kotis. Given that knowledge about gender and sexuality is often embodied and enacted rather than simply verbalized (Halberstam 2005; Muñoz 1999), this method enabled me to combine participatory active research with arts-based methods to engage dialectically with GNCs’ lived experiences.
17As I moved with my collaborators along railway platforms, through rail gates (level crossing gates), and trains, I acquired critical insights into the interworkings of their socialities through collaborative forms of ethnographic practices. My field exposure was also substantiated by reports/news published in the written press/media.
18The role of the state in governing GNCs has been widely studied and can be traced back to the colonial state which set out to define, control, and manage “problem populations” (Hinchy 2021:1). Literature on groups who subsist via gender nonconforming performances can be traced back to the 1800s. John Shortt (1873:406), an Anglo-Indian physician, described two sexually vulnerable groups, the kojahs and hijras, as “persistent and impudent beggars, rude and vulgar in the extreme, singing filthy, obscene, and abusive songs.” By classifying them as “vagrants” (Ghosh 2021a), the colonial state classes them under the Criminal Tribes Act, 1871. The postcolonial state not only sustained this approach but framed new laws to extend the perception and thereby continued to gloss over GNC livelihoods (Saria 2019). Research findings from South Asia (Jami 2005; Hossain 2021; Saria 2021) confirm in a rather convincing manner that the hijras and kotis’ act of asking for badhai and challa cannot be equated with “begging.” Scholars such as Saria (2019) and Hossain (2021) have mentioned that hijras and kotis speak about their right to perform and earn money through badhai or challa, which they do not consider to be a form of begging. Hossain’s hijra participants made a very clear distinction between mainstream begging and acts of ritualistic soliciting, which they perform (Hossain 2021:71).
19I wish to stress that strong cultural meanings are associated with hijra and koti performances. Their livelihoods and lifestyles have endured, evolved, and been tolerated for centuries in South Asia, despite the fact that terms like “begging,” “harassment,” and “extortion” have been used in media and state documents to refer to these ritualistic solicitations. The use of the term “begging,” a term borrowed from the colonial era (Ghosh 2021b), devalues the skill set and pre-existing meanings associated with GNC performances. Hence, I propose alternative terms such as “blessing,” “ritualistic soliciting” and “erotic performances” to refer to their multiple means of livelihoods.
20Interestingly enough, the Indian state has produced several sets of legislation and judgements in favor of vulnerable sexual identities which the state refers to as “transgender,” starting with the NALSA Judgement (2014), the Right to Privacy Act (2017), Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act (2019), to name a few. Yet it proposes their “rescue, protection and rehabilitation” (Hindustan Times 2021) because it believes that they are “disabled citizens” living as impudent, rude, and vulgar “beggars.” This allows the state to re-inscribe the hegemonic power structures and to ignore these communities’ claim to sexual diversity (Ghosh 2020). In keeping with this policy, the Indian state has created transgender certificates and identity cards to demarcate these communities and introduced rehabilitation, provision of medical facilities, counselling, education, and skill development training welfare scheme (Support for Marginalized Individuals for Livelihood and Enterprise) with two sub-schemes: a) “Comprehensive Rehabilitation for Welfare of Transgender Persons,” and b) “Comprehensive Rehabilitation of Persons Engaged in the act of Begging” (Government of India 2023). While the second sub-scheme does not target hijras, as it addresses begging comprehensively across various demographics, hijras and kotis are included within its scope as they are also perceived as “beggars.” These welfare policies highlight the state’s preference for obliterating the “transgender” means of livelihood by erroneously categorizing it as begging. GNC activists have continually protested against this so-called “rehabilitation” approach. In this context, Abhina Aher, an Alliance India executive, stated “trans people do not need rehabilitation, they need equality and empowerment” (Bhagat 2018).
21Notwithstanding protests by the GNC activists, the Indian state and its agencies have continued the colonial policy of targeting the GNCs. Thus, 73,837 GNC members were arrested for “begging” in trains between 2015 and 2018 (Shaikh 2019). Another issue that became salient after the passing of the Indian Transgender Act (2019) is the authenticity of a GNC person. Thus, on August 29, 2023, 19 GNC individuals were arrested in Hyderabad on the pretext of using fake identities for “begging” and “extorting” money from people in public spaces (Hansford 2023). Hansford reports that the individuals arrested were harassed, insulted, abused, and forced to change into masculine clothes in the police station. Activists have protested time and again against such arrests and have criticized the lack of sensitivity among police officials.
22GNC individuals are arrested under Section 144 of the Railways Act, 1989, which prohibits begging and hawking in railway carriages. The Senior Divisional Security Commissioner of the Railway Police Force (RPF) noted (DT Next 2016) that “transgenders” cause “nuisance” and “distress” to passengers. In spite of the possibility of these communities being fined up to INR 2000, the RPF lets them off after collecting a fine of INR 100 to INR 1000. On an average day, around ten “transgender” individuals are taken into custody at a railway station, only to be let off later with a fine. A report (Shaikh 2019) documented how, by collecting fines from a “transgender” in only one sector of India’s local train service, INR 2.24 lakh (USD 3,000) were collected within five months.
23GNC activists have protested sporadically against state agencies. For instance, in 2017, when Kolkata police reprimanded them for ritualistic soliciting practices, such as challa at the main traffic signals in the city, many GNC individuals came forward to assert their rights to ritualistic soliciting. They flocked to one of the busiest junctions in the city as a sign of protest. A participant in the movement stated,
- 15 Translation of the original quote by the participant of the movement.
We survive through soliciting. If we don’t do it, how will we survive? Police collect a cut from our earnings. Yet, they tell us not to beg.15
24These protests should also be perceived as an attempt by GNCs to claim their right over public spaces, which have evolved over time. Furthermore, this act of recalcitrance also signifies their aspiration, agency, and right to decide how these public spaces could and should be used (Lefebvre 1968). And, in this process, these acts are aimed at resisting gentrification and debunking dominant models of development and heteronormativity in favor of more democratic and participatory forms of access to public spaces.
- 16 Pratyay Gender Trust co-founded by Anindya Hazra was one of the early community-led initiatives in (...)
25Making disenfranchised groups redundant and striving to make them disappear has been a long-lasting state tactic to urbanize and gentrify public spaces in India. The rhetoric of rehabilitation therefore operates under the pretext of ensuring the beautification and gentrification of the city. The process of creating world-class cities (Baviskar 2014) and of controlling city spaces consists in developing new cultures of consumption (Srivastava 2007). The drastic and momentous changes in the infrastructure of both cities and towns over the last few years have heightened spatial inequalities in these spaces, thus further depriving GNCs’ of opportunities and of life chances. Anindya Hazra, a Pratyay16 activist, claimed that, with the rapid growth of gated communities equipped with tight security, many “transgenders” can no longer travel from house to house for ritualistic soliciting (LiveMint 2015). While GNCs in South Asia are socially empowered to bless young babies and newly married couples and also to perform (dance and sing) on those occasions, activists have argued that many of these performers now have to find alternative spaces for ritualistic soliciting because they are not allowed entry into these gated compounds in urban India. Along with forfeiting the opportunity to visit gated communities, they face further challenges when multiple-lane, high-speed highways are built equipped with overpasses. Lefebvre’s (1991) work on urban space demonstrates how these processes often lead to the functionalization of spaces at the expense of vulnerable groups. Manorama Kinnor, a hijra member of Pratyay, argued that when the biggest overpass was built in the city of Kolkata to solve traffic jam problems, many of their community were left vulnerable (LiveMint 2015). While this may seem like a consequence of modernization and highway construction rather than a deliberate attempt to target hijras, I argue that these changes lead to the displacement and exclusion of marginalized communities from public spaces they once occupied. It is essential to recognize that modernization, even when not intentionally discriminatory, can disproportionately affect certain populations, reflecting broader patterns of social exclusion.
26Manorama said to LiveMint (2015),
We stood under one of its giant tentacles. Cars were flying over our heads. Will they let me stand on the flyover to beg? … How will I eat?
27With less space and fewer opportunities for soliciting, many new entrants work on trains, national highways, roads, local markets, and at traffic signals. With the gentrification of cities, a second plausible reason for a surge in ritualistic soliciting is the sudden drop in both state and international funding of civil society organizations (NGOs and CBOs) that used to provide employment to GNCs in health and awareness projects where they worked as peer educators, outreach workers, community support services, etc. Elissa Miolene (2024) argues that the last decade witnessed a decline in international and national funding, not only in India but in the Global South, because risks associated with the AIDS epidemic have dwindled (Ghosh 2022b). A third possible reason is the lack of education and skills among GNCs, who run away from home at an early age and fail to qualify for mainstream jobs (Jain 2018; Meher and Acharya 2022). Ghilzai and Ali (2016) have found that, in Pakistan, a lack of access to citizenship rights forces GNCs to turn to ritualistic soliciting. Hence, while this soliciting is a choice of livelihood for many GNCs, it represents a constrained form of agency. The choice demonstrates their strategic adaptation to systemic exclusion from education and formal employment—but also reflects the way they consciously embrace gender non-conformity, where GNCs leverage traditional roles to navigate economic precarity and to affirm their gender expression, even when structural barriers trap them in a spiral of marginalization.
28My ethnographic study differentiates between traditional begging and the ritualistic performances of hijras and kotis. While both activities arise from marginalization and are due to an economic necessity, ritualistic soliciting offers unique benefits for many kotis from rural working-class backgrounds. It affirms their identity, provides financial support, and provides safety compared to traditional labor options.
29Drawing parallels with Lakkimsetti’s (2017) work on Mumbai bar dancers, kotis often choose badhai or challa as a means of community engagement, self-expression, and social mobility. This highlights the complexity of their motivations, combining their needs for survival with aspirational pursuits.
30Both begging and ritual soliciting results in monetary benefits for the ones practicing these practices, but their cultural significance differs. Associated with idleness (McIntosh and Angus 1999; O’Neill 2017) in the past, begging is now recognized as a form of work (Kassah 2008) driven by hope (Lenhard 2021). However, ritualistic soliciting requires distinct skills and embodies different experiences. While begging often involves displays of vulnerability (Lenhard 2021), ritualistic soliciting showcases the power and entitlement of hijras and kotis.
31During my fieldwork, I had the opportunity of closely witnessing my collaborators’ performance of badhai rituals on several occasions. Badhai, as they explained and demonstrated, involves a series of culturally significant actions associated with blessing newborns or newlyweds. I observed visits by Meena’s group to the homes of newborn babies, their gently taking the babies onto their laps, applying kohl to the babies’ eyes, and placing a black kohl dot for protection against the evil eye. These intimate acts were accompanied by prayers and blessings as they passed the baby from one lap to another, sometimes dancing with the baby, creating a sacred atmosphere, singing, and playing drums and bells, while family members swirled money round over the heads of the hijras before placing it on their lap, all of which transcended a mere economic exchange. There were various songs but some of the lyrics clearly demonstrate that they are prayers for the baby’s well-being, such as jug jug duya kori (may you live long), mohakali miliya dilo purnimar chad (the great goddess Kali has blessed the baby like the full moon), joshodar koler bacha dole (the baby plays on the lap of mother Yashoda), aye re bacha palna dolai (come here, my child, let me rock the cradle). The songs vary depending on the family; for example, they have different songs in different languages (Bengali/Hindi). They not only sing but also say these prayers in the form of rhymes.
32While I did not personally take part in badhai, I did join my research collaborators in carrying out challa, which involves soliciting money in public spaces such as in trains and at traffic signals. During challa, I observed kotis perform various embodied rituals that convey blessings, while soliciting money. A key element of challa is the act of giving tali—a loud clap performed using a specific technique. I learnt that tali has to be executed with precision: the fingers open to create a louder sound, while ensuring it is not too close to the donor’s (called Jajman by the kotis) face, because close proximity can be seen as disrespectful. The performance can also vary in tone; for instance, if there is anger toward someone misbehaving, tali may be delivered with more intensity and executed closer to the face, signaling displeasure.
33As I attempted to learn the art of giving tali, Meena and the younger kotis often chuckled at my clumsy efforts. Meena once remarked that it takes years to master tali. My lack of embodied dispositions was evident as I failed to collect any money on most of the days I went on trains with Meena’s group, unlike the group members. I merely tagged along, with the younger kotis finding amusement in my awkward attempts. This experience highlighted the complex skills and cultural knowledge required for ritualistic soliciting.
34I observed other key differences between beggars and hijras/kotis who solicit money on trains. While beggars often wear tattered clothing that reflects their hardship, hijras/kotis dress elegantly, and wear heavy makeup and bold jewelry. Unlike beggars, hijras/kotis bless donors by touching their heads and do not usually accept coins or small denominations (below INR 10).
35GNCs put forward multiple and diverse reasons for choosing ritualistic soliciting. First, by way of their performance, they develop socialities, providing them with effective networks of support and care. Experiencing and participating in care communities provides GNCs with the much-needed space to exercise their agency. The koti collaborators in this research operate within diffuse care networks, collaborating with hijra communities without fully integrating hijra gharanas, leveraging these connections not only for support and resources but also as performative spaces for self-expression and identity negotiation. Communities of care help GNC individuals to connect with others, fostering companionship and camaraderie. During my visits, I met Ashok and Bijan, who work respectively as primary schoolteacher and priest. However, in the evening, they travel to a level crossing around 20 kilometers away from their house to engage in ritualistic soliciting and sex work. Both stressed that ritualistic soliciting serves two key purposes for them.
36First, as Chiyawali kotis marryth cisgender women, they find essential space for self-expression that fuels their creativity, expressiveness, and sexuality.
37Second, it enables them to connect with cisgender individuals. Interacting with a diverse range of commuters on local trains, such as teachers, lawyers, and students, allows them to build relationships that enhance their social network. More importantly, many GNC individuals not only engage in ritualistic soliciting but also take part in erotic play and sex work with young men, many of whom become their lovers or clients.
38Ritualistic soliciting encompasses not only sacramental performance but also the exchange of erotic play and acts. One evening, Meena took me along to do some ritualistic soliciting on the trains. She said,
You see what I have to do to earn my living. Do you think any kori (male) or niharin (female) person would be able to perform like me? I can figure out who will give me money and who won’t; I’m able to modulate my behavior with each commuter selectively.
39Meena and her GNC gotiyas (sisters) were not just asking for money during challa; they used unique interaction techniques with various passengers, including women, men, and children. With young women, Meena inquired about their education and family well-being. For married women and older individuals, she asked about family life and health. With younger men, they engaged in playful interactions like touching hair and flirting. Unlike begging, ritualistic soliciting requires cultural understanding and reciprocity, which leads them to choose it as a way of life.
40Begging can be seen as an art form that uses singing, acting, and storytelling to evoke empathy. However, it is often viewed from the point of view of poverty and moral failings. Meena and others demonstrate that their ritualistic soliciting goes beyond mere survival. They skilfully reconfigure the meanings associated with their profession, which is typically linked to poverty and moral deficiency. By redefining ritualistic soliciting as a legitimate economic activity intertwined with cultural labor, they challenge broader socioeconomic structures that dictate acceptable forms of work.
41Third, ritualistic soliciting provides them with the courage, strength, and freedom to assert themselves. For example, Rani, a hijra, does ritualistic soliciting by choice. She works intermittently for an NGO; however, she also lives off ritualistic soliciting.
42She stated,
Ritual soliciting is my right and choice, a privilege bestowed by society thousands of years ago and passed down from my hijra ancestors. It’s not just a profession; it reflects an ideology. The hijras embraced their identities, confidently opposing bullies and asserting themselves.
43The interconnected and often intricately intertwined nature of performances and the reasons for doing them makes ritualistic soliciting a completely different act from begging. Hence, hijras fervently contend that ritualistic soliciting is indeed a livelihood; it is a profession, and they often use the term “duty” to describe it. Incidentally, in South Asian cultures, the word “duty” is used by working state-employed professionals to signify the act of going to a regular workplace. For instance, the phrase duty korte jacchi (going to work) reflects a postcolonial work ethic in South Asia, rooted in the legacy of British colonial bureaucracy. It signifies a commitment to professional responsibilities, particularly in public-sector roles, highlighting the internalization of Western concepts of the work ethic. Anita, who identifies as a hijra, described and drew parallels between ritualistic soliciting and other performance-based occupations such as sports and the arts. She stated,
It is incorrect to label us as beggars; we bless people rather than beg. Like any profession, ritual soliciting requires months of learning emotional skills (nakhra) and practice. Not everyone can do challa. Newcomers, including kotis and hijras, earn little initially but gradually learn from seniors how to give a clap (tali), demand money, and interact effectively with others.
44Anita differentiates between soliciting and begging. Many GNCs agree that people give them money because they are seen as sacred and able to bless others, thus rejecting the notion of begging. This rejection marginalizes beggars, labeling them “non-workers” as GNCs reposition themselves within postcolonial concepts of work and respectability. This tension between subverting and integrating postcolonial work reflects broader discussions in GNC communities about assimilation versus disruption, raising critical questions about the state’s perception of their livelihoods.
45My field experience also reveals that state officials dealing with GNCs are not aware of the epistemological disjuncture between the act of begging and ritualistic soliciting. When the police act on spurious complaints, and often arrest GNCs under Section 144 (2) of the Railway Act for “manhandling” and “extortion” in trains, very few complainants formally protest because they believe that GNCs can curse them. According to a subinspector at RPF (DT Next 2016):
Commuters hesitate to file a formal complaint, fearing that the hijras will put a curse upon them. Asking for money on trains is a violation of law. However, at times, even magistrates hesitate to fine charges fearing that a curse would fall on them.
46Two important issues arise here. First, though the state equates the act of blessing and ritualistic soliciting with “begging,” rail commuters and some state officials do not think it is an offence worth to file formal complaints. Incidentally, researchers have extensively documented the way hijras in India are believed to be endowed with the power to bless and curse people (Nanda 1990; Lal 1999; Reddy 2005; Goel 2016; Kunihiro 2022). It is even considered to be a sin to ignore them because their curses can prove dangerous (Goel 2016).
47Second, GNCs conjure up polyvalent meanings through their performances, making their profession epistemologically and ontologically different from the act of begging. These professions have evolved over a period of time as different types of badhai (Shaikh 2019). With more and more GNCs asserting their choices, challa—along with sex work—have become popular among these communities.
48In public transport, hijras and kotis build meaningful relationships with various individuals, shaping their social connections. While challa happens in fleeting moments, kotis cultivate lasting bonds with regular passengers they meet daily on trains, fostering affinity and mutual respect. As Meena said,
Jajmans whom we see every day often call us “mashi” (aunt) as a sign of respect. If they don’t come for a few days, we ask if they are well. When they return after an illness, I bless them and pray for their recovery.
49This reciprocal concern illustrates how these short exchanges can develop into meaningful social bonds. Moreover, some passengers invite Meena and her friends to their homes during significant life events for them to perform badhai. On occasions like birthdays or job promotions, these passengers even offer money in exchange for blessings, reinforcing the personal nature of their interactions.
50As I accompanied Meena on her afternoon rounds through the train compartments, I witnessed her engagement with various passengers and her asking questions such as, “Bhalo achen? Barite shobai bhalo? Ma r shorir kemon ache?” (Are you well? Is everyone doing well at home? How’s your mother’s health?), and the passengers reciprocating. These enquiries not only demonstrate her genuine interest in their well-being but also reinforce the bonds forged through daily encounters.
51For hijras and kotis, railway stations and public transit are not just spaces associated with financial gain; they also hold emotional significance that fosters a sense of belonging. The reciprocal concern between Meena and regular train passengers shows how daily interactions create a supportive community, sometimes leading to invitations for kotis to celebrate significant life events. This creates a network of solidarity that transcends the economic transactions typically linked to challa.
52Koel, a koti individual, explained how traffic signals and roads become intimately personalized through daily ritualistic soliciting practices. This process of spatial appropriation transforms these urban landscapes into sites of belonging and identity formation. She argued,
I consider the traffic junctions where I conduct ritual soliciting my home as I spend most of my day here. I know every part of the area. I know which junctures have all the big cars.
53For both Chameli and Koel, public spaces become sites associated with identity and belonging. Given that belonging is a necessary aspect of human experience, this feeling is a crucial element for working-class GNCs such as Meena, Chameli, and Koel. But beyond these engagements, I also witnessed how several local young cisgendered men from working-class backgrounds delighted in the challa performed by Meena’s group on the train.
54When Meena and her group encountered a group of young working-class men, a noticeable shift in energy filled the crowded compartment. The men’s faces showed curiosity and excitement, creating an unexpected intimacy that transcended heteronormative boundaries. “What’s your name?” one asked, his tone of voice a mix of boldness and vulnerability. Another inquired, “Where do you live?” Their questions reflected genuine interest and hidden desire. Meena and her group, skilled in this type of interaction, responded with teasing ambiguity. The young men surprisingly encouraged the performers to touch them—hands lingered on shoulders, fingers traced jawlines, blurring the lines between performance and genuine connection.
55Meena later said,
Most commuters are nice to us; they are cordial, and many of the young boys are always after us. They want to touch us, talk, flirt, and fuck us.
56Their lives in the street and in the train, and their relationships within these spaces provide GNCs with a vital connection, validation, and a community. Although GNCs do not conform to dominant heterosexual norms and prefer traveling in groups, they use public spaces to express themselves and to assert their gender nonconformity. These spaces are products of collective labor (Harvey 2008) and belong to both GNC individuals and everyday commuters. They consequently, carry diverse and relative meanings. For GNCs, who spend 15–16 hours in these areas, meanings are shaped by their experiences of time, relationships, emotions, and transactions. In keeping with Lefebvre (1968), I argue that, despite being marginalized and labeled as squatters, GNCs exercise agency and play crucial roles in shaping these spaces, which also significantly influence their needs and aspirations.
57Jasmine, a collaborator, explained her intense affective entanglements with public spaces,
Railway stations are significant spaces in my life. I eat at various shanty food corners while traveling. In the morning, I have rice and fish at a shanty run by a couple who greet me as their daughter. I bring them medicines and fruit, and they provide me with important local information. I often interact with shop owners selling betel leaves and cigarettes, sharing a smoke with them. I also have close relationships with beggars and hawkers on passenger trains and meet potential clients and lovers through these contacts. Much of my social, emotional, and personal life revolves around the public spaces where I earn my livelihood.
58However, despite being an integral part of these spaces, GNCs have to endure multiple levels of violence on a daily basis. One instance of such violence includes sudden descents on trains by the railway authorities. After every descent, the Railway Police publishes reports proudly claiming the number of “transgenders” who were arrested and the amount of money that was collected in the form of fines (Times of India 2023). Furthermore, they also have to face physical harassment from the police and local commuters. Meena said,
I have often been cornered by police officers seeking free sexual favors, and when denied, they threaten to fine or arrest me. Therefore, my gotiyas and I always travel in groups. Some officers, knowing our real names and addresses, threaten to expose us if we don’t comply with their demands. Although we try to avoid them, we frequently have to submit to their orders.
59What is revealing is that the RPF and the police also rely on GNCs to provide undercover information. They often ask them to share information about criminals and illegal activities. This form of assistance is seen as favors to avoid paying extra fines. As GNC persons have lived in public spaces for a long time and have a mass of information about different types of commuters, including criminals, the police often treat them as a “source.” Chameli, one of my field collaborators, told me,
The dengur (police) often ask for our help. This happens when they are looking for black marketeers, drug and arms dealers, and other people who they feel have broken the law. Sometimes they would ask us to be on the lookout for specific gangs who might be traversing the trains or traffic signals. And we cooperate with them because they control and determine our access to our livelihoods.
60Despite this support, GNCs are often subjected to harassment by the police because of complaints filed against them. Police officers believe that TTEs and railway magistrates show leniency mostly by not arresting “transgenders,” and letting them go with a minor fine because of a lack of evidence (Achary 2016). This might reflect the idea of a “soft state” (Myrdal 1968); however, in practice, state agents and actors function and gain power from the presence of an inefficient bureaucracy, corruption, and fragile interworking of different agencies (Gupta 2005; Witsoe 2012).
61On their everyday journeys in trains, GNCs come across various categories of state officials: the RPF, TTEs, railway magistrates, and local police. All these actors serve as stakeholders in economies engendered by GNCs. The imposition of hefty fines exacts a disproportionate toll on their monthly earnings.
62This well-organized system of financial exchange keeps issues of law, rights, and tradition at subterranean level. Unfortunately, this power dynamic is hugely skewed in favor of the RPF. In 2020, while discussing the role of the RPF in the lives of GNC people, Tikli, one of my collaborators, mentioned how state actors engage in everyday “retail corruption” (Parry 2000).
We have a cordial, symbiotic relationship with dengur (RPF/TTEs). We pay them monthly in exchange for being left alone, and some even respect us and seek our blessings. Occasionally, they cause trouble for individuals traveling alone, so we travel in groups for mutual support. Most of us accept these “arrangements” as part of our profession, believing they are simply doing their duty in collecting fines. Just as we engage in sex work for extra cash and pleasure, they also take bribes from us.
63This statement highlights a long-standing system of state actors managing and profiting from the livelihoods of marginalized working-class GNCs. The rise of a “money cut culture,” particularly in eastern India, illustrates how graft and kickbacks are entrenched in institutional practices. This reflects the corruption fostered by state agents in developing postcolonial states, characterized by an uneven rule of law, a lack of public trust in the political system, and unequal access to rights and services (Gupta 2005:7).
64On February 20, 2023, I attended a routine social gathering organized by a GNC-based organization in a suburban town of West Bengal. During the discussions, one of the participants, Meena, brought to the CBO secretary’s attention a recent problem she had faced on the train at Howrah railway station and showed us a video she’d recorded. It clearly showed how the TTEs, RPF, and general police were harassing her. All the other GNCs present at the meeting gradually started sharing similar experiences, especially at the hands of a new state actor they called “CIB.”
- 17 Numerous media reports highlight counterfeit RPF rackets, where impostors posing as RPF officials e (...)
65It became clear to us that after the Covid pandemic, a counterfeit racket17 known as CIB had started operating on the railway networks, collecting exorbitant fines from GNCs. Hence, the relationship between those who impose a fine and those who pay it is far from being a symbiotic one. GNCs are primarily at the receiving end of this “system.”
66Thus, for the police, ritualistic soliciting is illegal, while for GNCs, the presence of fake CIB rackets perpetuates illegality. This again speaks of the nature of policing in India. Police corruption not only violates human rights; it also obstructs the rule of law and prevents access to justice. According to Kumar (2015:3), “corruption is pervasive in the system of governance in India, undermining the effectiveness of all institutions of governance.”
67Incidentally, interactions with a couple of railway officers demonstrated that CIB rackets are indeed fake bribery rackets. A railway police officer, who works at the same railway station where Meena catches a train to conduct ritualistic soliciting, was pleasantly surprised to hear about the CIB. When interviewed, she said,
I had not heard of the CIB before. It doesn’t exist. The “transgenders” don’t know that and keep paying such bribes. We know of the CBI (Central Bureau of Investigation), but the CBI never comes to interfere with “transgenders.”
68Jatin Bose, a TTE on the same trains as those on which Meena works, was of the same opinion. He said,
Officers do not generally come in plain clothes and arrest transgenders. And it is impossible for the police to file a case against them over the phone without even coming to the station. And if they genuinely file a case, arrest a person, or let them go with a fine, they should provide a document confirming the same.
69Classing their livelihoods as illegal makes acts like fining or bribery a necessary “rite of passage” (Annavarapu 2021) for GNC performers. Due to the pervasive nature of “institutionalized corruption” (Miklian and Carney 2013) in India, which functions like a “patronage democracy” (Chandra 2004), paying fines and bribes has become routine for my collaborators. Kumar (2015) argues that corruption is not a “law enforcement issue” because state officials and systems of governance promote it; so much so that the act of appeasing, giving fines and bribes becomes the major language of interacting with, comprehending, and relating to the state.
70This paper therefore urges a reconsideration of meanings, terminologies, and interpretations of GNC livelihoods since the state creates epistemic dissonance and thereby affects the lived materialities of hijras and kotis in India. It advocates for decriminalization of their livelihoods, while amplifying GNC-led movements demanding labor rights and dignity beyond state rehabilitation paradigms. It stresses the need to engage with peripheral communities on their own terms as they draw from diverse traditions of knowledge (Nigam 2020).
71The rights of hijras and kotis continue to be infringed on in railway transit networks. By identifying the latter’s profession as a form of begging, the state disciplines their bodies, misclassifies their livelihood as begging, and categorizes their lifestyle, subculture, erotic attractions, and desires as violating public decency. This paper has addressed how forms of state illegality, by way of parallel networks of state agents engaging in corruption, prevail over and coexist with the illegalities in which the GNC performers engage. Yet, the illegalization of their livelihoods within public transit systems results in misdefining their livelihoods as begging, leading them to being branded as outlaws.