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Vandiyathevan Senthan Amuthan

“My dearest, whenever I stroke your forehead, I recall the beautiful moment when you applied the tilak on my forehead”, said Amudhan, gazing at Vanthiyathevan with lovelorn eyes.

Hmm.. this was not in the version of Ponniyan Selvan I read, but it’s the hidden love no one knew.
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My thanks to all the beings who encouraged me.

The zine was full of sensitive and careful representation of the community both in art and literature. I would let you explore it for yourself from here and enjoy it. For we are only too aware, what a difference some representation in mainstream would have made growing up for most of us.

Congratulation to the Lotus Zine team for bringing out this much needed volume and very good luck for your future volumes. Also many thanks to all the artists who provided their consent for us to host their work.

All art work are copyright of the Zine and the individual artists. Orinam is hosting the content with appropriate permissions.

When all citizens are freed from the shackles of prejudice and oppression based on their gender, gender expression, sexuality, religion (or lack thereof), caste, ability, age, ethnicity, region of origin, and language, then we will truly have reason to celebrate independence.

Nayan, 22, is from Tezpur, Assam, and is currently pursuing his Master’s degree in Assamese literature. He was inspired to paint this by an image he had once seen in a Youtube video.

Nayan describes himself as ‘proudly gay’, and first shared this work with other members of the Facebook group of Xukia, a queer collective in Assam.

I first met Jessy in January 2017, at a queer film festival in Egmore. She was introduced to me by a friend.  It was around 9:30 pm by the time I left the venue after the screening. I began looking for a bus to get home to Tambaram, but wasn’t able to find one. Jessy, who had booked a call taxi, kindly offered me a ride back, as it turned out her home was in the same locality.

On the way, Jessy and I got to talking about our respective genders and sexualities.  I came out to her as gay, and spoke to her about my life and loves. She even counseled me about relationships, asking me to be cautious while choosing guys, and not to get married if I wasn’t interested in women.  We exchanged numbers. During the ride, I kept addressing her as Akka. She, however, asked me to call her Amma. I obliged, but felt a little awkward about it, then.

We continued to stay in touch via phone calls and text messages after that meeting. After one particularly intense conversation, she said “I truly feel like you are my son…  maybe we were mother and son in our previous births.

Over time, I grew more comfortable with calling her Amma. In February, about a month after we first met, she invited me to the home she shared with other trans women (thirunangais), and introduced me to her guru and trans sisters.

One day, as I was showing her my photos of my art work that I had on my phone, she asked me if I would make a sketch of her from one of her favorite photographs. I was happy to do so. She has framed the drawing and kept it with her.

I have encountered many gay guys who harbor fear and disdain for thirunangais. They try to discourage me from meeting Jessy, cautioning me that others will misinterpret my association with her and other thirunangais.

But I don’t care what they say.

She is, after all, my trans amma.

Over the last year and a half or so, I’ve made lots of visits to the Kasturba Medical College Hospital, both as the student and the patient. Just a few weeks ago, I was admitted for a minor surgical procedure. Perhaps this wasn’t as overt as it is now, for I choose to express externally a certain way I hadn’t earlier, before coming to medical school. I’m not daft: I do realize my appearance is striking. You don’t see a bald/pretty-haired “dude” with seven visible piercings and a white coat everyday. I’m probably asking for it: the raised eyebrows, the curiosity, the jokes, the sniggering and even the overt hostility, particularly in a rural setting the patients we see represent. I wake up to that reality on a daily basis. But you know what’s funny, though? Not once have those things ever come from a patient I’ve seen, like a professor once predicted, perhaps out of an inability to process. It’s always been the uneasy/awkward doctor, the rude nurse, the not-so-subtle clerk. Perhaps we’re not taught well enough when we’re taught other things, to separate professional duty and personal opinion: something a doctor, at the very least, is required to know inside out.

(I’m probably asking for it, right? What did I expect?)

My mother often says I’ve picked a hard life, that I’m a minority within a minority within a minority. She means medicine, of course, surgery in particular. I’ve consciously, and perhaps frivolously allowed ambition to surpass practicality, for there wasn’t, and isn’t place on this earth, for a successful queer, trans, androgynous doctor. You either pretend and slowly rot, or throw away everything you built and deserve, and be yourself.

She’s right.

Today, I was the patient again, terrified, for I knew what was coming my way. I knew I had to allow an elderly surgeon to examine me, in a position not particularly comfortable to most. But for the first time in a series of particularly awkward doctor-consults, I was made to feel incredibly comfortable. I knew the kinds of questions I’d be asked, and I was pleasantly surprised at how well she handled things. You know how hard it is asking certain questions first hand, and that makes you terribly critical of your doctor. I felt safe.

That’s what I aspire to be. And I fear everyday, that my need for authenticity doesn’t allow for it.

That said, I will continue to consciously do everything in my power to make things better for those like me, and try and change the way we see things as medical professionals. I’m not sure how far I’ll get, but I’m going to fight like hell.

This line from Terribly Tiny Tales inspired the following piece of art by Rajat Saini, a 22 y.o. undergraduate student in Delhi. Check out his other work on the FB page ‘श्यामश्वेत : colors of life’ here.