In a candid conversation with Editor-in-Chief, Brut India, Mehak Kasbekar on The Other Side podcast, Kiran Sakhi from the kinnar community spoke about her journey of growing up feeling out of place, facing judgment, and being excluded from job opportunities, and being excluded from job opportunities. She said the first income source she saw around her was sex work. She also speaks about identity, the transgender bill, and how the law plays out in her lived reality. This is her story, in her own words.
Growing Up Different, Without The Words
The first signs appeared early in Kiran’s life.
She studied in an all-boys school in Srinagar, Kashmir, where she felt out of place. She was uncomfortable with what the boys around her were doing. Over time, she felt drawn to makeup, nail polish, and clothes associated with women.
At that age, she did not have the words to explain what she was feeling. She did not know what transgender meant.
After moving to Punjab due to the situation in Kashmir, she continued her schooling. By Class 10, bullying had started. Differences in her walking and behaviour drew attention. Teachers told others not to bully her, but it continued.
At home, responses remained limited. Her mother, an Oxford graduate, understood some part of her feelings but did not speak openly within the family.
She later completed her education and moved into professional work before openly speaking about her identity.
At that time, she said she did not know what transgender meant or how to explain what she was feeling.
Living A Double Life
Adulthood brought a different kind of pressure for Kiran.
She built a career without revealing her gender identity, working across marketing and later in the IT industry. She said, “I became executive director in Bengaluru.” She said her life was normal, but she was not satisfied.
There was a constant gap between her external life and internal identity.
At some point, she decided to come out. The process was not instant. She consulted organisations and underwent counselling, including sessions with a government psychiatrist.
Coming out meant leaving behind her home, family, and career at once. For Kiran, this happened at the age of 30.
Work Reality: When Doors Don’t Open
Finding work became a major challenge for Kiran after she came out.
When she tried to re-enter the workforce, the attempts failed. She said she was not even allowed to reach the doors of companies or sit for interviews.
Without formal employment, she said she could not find work.
She described that the first income source she saw around her was sex work. She refused it. After that, she began asking for money at toll tax points.
At traffic signals and toll booths, interactions with strangers often turned uncomfortable. People made inappropriate remarks and asked for rates.
Kiran continued this work despite the discomfort.
She also spoke about Goa as a place where she felt socially safe, but said there were no job opportunities there for transgender people.
Community As Family
After leaving her biological family, Kiran became part of the kinnar community.
She entered a structured system with a guru and disciples, which functions like a chosen family. She described it as a system with a guru and disciples, like a family structure.
Within this system, she rebuilt her life. Relationships formed, and her role evolved over time.
Kiran said she now has more than 30 disciples who call her their mother.
For her, this became a stable support structure.
What The Law Says, And What It Doesn’t
Kiran spoke about how the law affects her life and others in the community.
India has legal provisions for transgender persons, but gaps remain between law and lived reality.
She pointed out that earlier, self-identification allowed individuals to declare their gender without medical intervention. Now, the process requires appearing before a medical board for certification.
Healthcare is another concern she highlighted. She said there are two types of procedures, chemical and physical castration, and both require certification from a psychiatrist. The cost can start from around Rs. 55,000 and go up to several lakh rupees. She also said that earlier, many people lost their lives during these procedures, and claimed that around 50% of those who underwent surgery did not survive.
Kiran also spoke about disparity in criminal law. She said that in cases of sexual violence, punishment differs depending on how the victim is categorised. In her words, if a kinnar is raped, the punishment is limited compared to other cases.
She also raised concerns around livelihood. She said that if begging is not allowed, then alternative employment options should be provided.
At the same time, she noted some changes. Transgender persons can use women’s metro coaches and public toilets in some cities.
According to Kiran, these changes affect daily life, but do not fully address issues like employment or legal protection.
The Traffic Signal Is Not The Whole Story
Kiran described how public perception often reduces the kinnar community to a single image.
She said many people go through life without ever having a conversation with a transgender person. Most interactions remain limited to brief encounters in public spaces like traffic signals.
She explained that these moments carry different reactions. Some people avoid eye contact, some engage politely, and some use offensive language.
Over time, she said this becomes part of daily life. Earlier, it felt hurtful, but now she continues her work regardless of the reactions.
At the same time, she pointed out a contrast. Kinnars are invited to give blessings during childbirth or weddings, but their everyday realities around identity, work, and dignity remain separate from these moments.
