Gays, Transgenders and Indian Railway

I hate crowded trains, and I don’t mean crowded as in you don’t get a seat. I’ve travelled in trains where if you turn your head sideways for some reason, you might find your face in an awkwardly close proximity to another man’s face. A few times it got too crammed that I had to make telepathic pacts with strangers like… ‘you keep your foot between my feet and I keep mine between yours and we pray to God that the train doesn’t jerk’. To quote the hilarious Mr. Russel Peters, “In India grown ass men hold hands and walk down the street as if there’s nothing gay about it” and like most other stereotypes this one too is true to an extent. I mean us Indian guys, we may start off with a handshake and may end up holding hands and idly swinging it for the entire length of the conversation. We don’t realize that by international standards, it is as gay as it gets.

Don’t take me wrong. I bear no prejudice against gay people or any other community for that matter. Infact, my rapport with the Transgender community of the various railway stations of Andhra Pradesh is a legend of sorts within my friends circle(I wonder where the hijra’s stand on the telengana issue). There are forgotten memories that you wish you could remember and then there are those you wish you could forget but can’t. This particular story belongs to the latter category. I was returning from a trip to Kolkata and at a station some hijra’s got on the train  ‘begging’. Well, it was more like extortion. I feigned sleep wanting to be left alone, but they would take none of it. One of them caressed my cheek(on the face, to rule out any confusion) and the other started clapping her…. Errr, his…… errr, fuck it… the other started clapping her hands in front of my face. I awoke from my feigned sleep with terror at the touch.

‘Paisa dena Raja…… dena….’, they started talking in their ugly sing-song manner.

To get rid of them, I start frantically searching my pockets for change. Finding a two rupee coin, I give it to them.

They stared at me with contempt and said, ‘2 rupayein jaake tere amma ko de, ab toh das rupayein nikaal’.

However frightening the situation was, demanding 10 rupees was outrageous. So I said,

‘Nahin doonga’, and crossed my arms across my chest.

The taller among the two glared at me, pulled me forward catching me by my collars my face mere inches from hers and said,

‘10 rupayein nikaal, varna lip kiss de doonga!!!!!’

 I saw bright red lipstick engulf my vision and gave up.

Thankfully, before I was lip-raped, my friend(to whom I owe my life) who was sitting beside me gave her a 10 rupee note and my lip-virginity was spared.

They say you never forget your first…….

I say you never forget what could’ve been your first…