Dressed in what looks like a fire-suit selectively slashed to reveal arms, midriff and an imaginary cleavage, Vipin is doing a Sushmita Sen number on stage. The only way you can mistake him for the actress is by standing a football field away. But then, you don't really have a choice. It is Vipin's party and this is an opportunity for him to show off-his clothes, his talent and, most of all, his hidden sexual self. Besides, the night is warm and the venue safe-a well-situated farmhouse, off the busy Delhi-Gurgaon road. The dress code is eclectic and the socialising, largely same-sex. For Vipin this is also an opportunity to have fun and-chance and chemistry willing-find somebody to love.
Closer to the heart of Delhi, at the ngo Naz Foundation's Gulmohar Park office, Wednesdays are meant for a much looked-forward-to pageantry. The men who come here that day are-in sexual parlance-transgendered. They come here in men's clothes. These are quickly discarded for bright-coloured sarees and sexy cocktail dresses, and combined with layers of (creme or matt) foundation, long flowing wigs, high heels and an attitude that hides little.
History, in fact, is littered with instances of cross-dressing. In the world of histrionics and theatre-both here as well as in the West-it's been employed quite effectively for dramatic and mock-comic effect and to create illusion. Male actors impersonating women was the norm in many classical dance forms, much of epic theatre and, in a lag effect, early Indian films. The modern cross-dresser, in many ways their spiritual descendant, has only recently begun to come out of the closet in India, defying the stifling mores of a conservative heartland society. Drag queens are a big draw in international clubs; here, the taboo is only now lifting from what was hitherto considered 'deviant' sexual behaviour. Says Jitendra Nagpal of Delhi's Vidyasagar Institute of Mental Health and Neuro Sciences: "Rapid sociocultural changes have brought about an intermingling of gender identities." Familiarity with different and varied expressions of sexuality has bred a grudging respect for androgyny.
On Thursdays, visit Soul Kitchen, the high-end eatery in Delhi's busy Nehru Place, or go to Someplace Else, a nightclub at The Park, and witness the exclusive gay bonding where men in drag can be spotted nursing drinks amid the sunshine of happiness and collective sighs of relief-they've never been so 'out'.
In a crowded and perceptibly downmarket Paharganj, a small discotheque at Hotel Regency organises surreptitious parties for their cross-dressed clients. All this in the heart of conservative and naturally-butch Delhi! Not that these men are freaks, they are more the products of the new understanding that's characteristic of this epoch. "People are becoming more open to our behaviour," says Vineet, 24, "I think it's because of the media and drag places (sic) like Soul Kitchen and the Naz Foundation."
If Vineet is grateful for his new-found freedom of expression, it is also partly because of the circle he moves in. A fashion designer from Chandigarh, Vineet came to Delhi because the place held a great deal of promise. "In Chandigarh I was living a half life," he says, as he parties in a backless, stringy top, bangles and a smooth shave concealed with deftly applied make-up. While parties like these may seem like thirteenth birthday bashes compared to the pomp and glamour of gay pride parades in Europe and Australia or the gay Mardi Gras in Brazil, they serve the same purpose-of fraternising and identifying similarly-oriented people. And they have also, in the last two or three years, come to represent a much-required breather for people who relocate to Delhi in search of sexual expression.
For some, an escape from the small town to the big city helped them to come out of the closet. Take for example, Sonu, 20, who came to Delhi from distant Patna. Says he: "In Patna, there was no exposure to such a life but here I can wear what I want to and go to drag parties."
Or take Bobby alias Maqsoom Ali, 24, who hails from a small village in UP where his sarees and camp movements drove him to a hijra group in Delhi. "We used to make money by dancing at houses. Sometimes I made Rs 500 in a day but then my parents asked me to come back." Today Bobby is a volunteer with the Naz Foundation where he counsels men like himself on the dangers of unsafe sex and hiv. Now, although he wears sarees borrowed from his sister-in-law and uses rubber balloons to fill up his bra, he is required to sport a token moustache at family functions.
LIKE Bobby, Vijay, 28, too belongs to that end of the social spectrum where his womanly desires and urges were the centre of much amusement and sniggering. Vijay has briefly flirted with unbridled femininity-at local Ramlilas, he used to enact female roles. But that wasn't enough to replace his desire to be a woman full-time. Now as an MSM (men who have sex with men) volunteer for the Naz Foundation, Vijay leads a double life. "I wear normal clothes when I'm on the field but at the Wednesday meetings I wear what I want," says he, dressed in a short, black sequinned dress he's designed himself.
In what's clearly a natural affinity, many cross-dressers have a way with fabrics, cuts and finished clothes. It's more a fetish There are many who take up tailoring, embroidery and, if they can afford it, designing their own clothes. Those who don't have the money or aptitude for scissors and needlework too tend to choose vocations that retain an umbilical link with appearance and illusion. Sanjay, an established make-up artist in Delhi who has done famous faces-including Prime Minister Vajpayee's for the TV show Let's Talk-reveals a subliminal logic for those of his kind taking up the powder brush. "Most of the men in our line are effeminate, that's because women feel more comfortable with make-up men who are soft," says he. At parties, he slips into shiny, glittering apparel for "soul satisfaction". He's evolved his own set of pragmatics: "I'm a male with a once-in-a-blue-moon female phase. But it's much better being a man,# it gives you total independence."
Having come out of the closet, there is much euphoria among cross-dressers. Says Vineet: "Straight guys can't imagine how much fun I'm having. I am gifted to be born as a man-woman." However, gender nuances are rarely ever clearly laid out in black-and-white. Moreover, says Shaleen Rakesh, the MSM coordinator at Naz Foundation: "Gender identities can more often than not be directly correlated to sexual identities. For example, the gay identity is a very masculine identity whereas the feminine kotis, who are essentially homosexual males, prefer straight men. There's just so much diversity in the gay community!" So where Sonu trashes all men as "dirt bags" who just like to have sex, there's Vineet who has a steady girlfriend whose make-up he shares and whose flings he doesn't mind. And there's Sanjay who'd one day like to marry a woman and probably reduce his outings as a dressed-up queen. In between are men like Vijay and Bobby who fall into the category of kotis or trans-sexual males who have relationships with 'real men'.
But practical aspects of life put up innumerable hurdles. Rahul, 21, who came out of the closet and began cross-dressing some years ago, has regular spats with his mother over his visits to the beauty parlour. Interestingly, a niece sneaks him into the beauty parlour, but family approval is hard to come by. Similar is the story of Vijay's incipient moustache. "I wish I never had facial hair," says Vijay, embarrassed by his spoilsport whiskers-but it's a promise he's made to his mother.
Complexity, therefore, is a built-in fact of life. Such secondary sexual characteristics are what makes these men not quite the sex they long to be-the journey to complete womanhood is ridden with fears of discovery, guilt and alienation. And though cross-dressing, as of now, is a mere substitute for their definitive urges, it could perhaps be the first step forward in completely dismantling the repression of gender stereotypes.
