Ritayan Mukherjee

large_Touched_up_2__Somedday_we_will_be_accepted.jpg

medium_Touched_up_2__Somedday_we_will_be_accepted.jpg

small_Touched_up_2__Somedday_we_will_be_accepted.jpg

thumbnail_Touched_up_2__Somedday_we_will_be_accepted.jpg

Touched_up_2__Somedday_we_will_be_accepted.jpg

The members of the transgender community in Tamil Nadu who generously shared time with me described themselves as &#39;aravani&#39;. Only much later, I learned that many others in their community reject this term and describe themselves as Thirunangai. Respectfully, however, I have retained the term that the people I spoke to used in identifying themselves.   “This
is our festival. For 10 days, we live a different life. I’ve been in a trance for
the past few days, and I don’t want to come out of it,” says Jayamala, a 26-year-old
aravani I met in Koovagam village of Viluppuram district in 2014. Jayamala is here for an annual festival that takes place in the month of Chithirai in the Tamil calendar (around mid-April to mid-May) and lasts for 18 days.Many
transgender persons from across the country come to Koovagam for the beauty
pageants, music and dance competitions, and other events. Many come to be ‘married&#39;
to Lord Aravan. This ‘wedding’ takes place at a temple devoted to Koothandavar (as Aravan is locally known),
and it’s an enactment of a story from the Mahabharata. 

The story goes like this: Aravan, the son of Arjuna
and Naga princess Ulupi, agrees to be sacrificed to goddess Kali so that the
Pandavas can win the war against the Kauravas. His dying wish is that he is
married. However, no one is willing to marry him since he will be sacrificed
the next morning. So Krishna takes on female form as Mohini, weds Aravan – only
to be widowed the morning after. 

At the Koovagam festival, aravanis enact these rituals of marriage, sacrifice and widowhood. When I arrived, the marriage celebrations had begun.
Inside, the temple priest was performing the
wedding rituals for one aravani after
another. Outside, aravanis were
dancing, and buying garlands, thalis,
bangles. 

I
met a group of aravanis from Bengaluru; Prajwala, the group leader, told me, “I have
been coming here for  12 years. It’s difficult
for us to live in this society. But this place gives me hope that someday we’ll
be accepted. Becoming the wife of a deity is a recognition for us.” 

While the festival is mostly a joyous event, it
has a darker side too. The aravanis
speak of sexual harassment by men in the crowds, and verbal abuse by the cops. But Ivy,
a 37-year-old aravani, says, “Still,
I come here and will continue to do so.”  She disappears into the crowd. I wanted to ask
her what brings her back every year. But the answer is evident: this is their
festival. It’s where they are welcome for who they are.

An early version of this photo essay was published on the photographer&#39;s <a href="https://www.anobservantowl.in/Portfolio/Festivals/Pages/Covenant-of-Boon-and-Bereaveme">website</a>.

'Someday we will be accepted'

’یہ سماج کسی نہ کسی دن ہمیں ضرور قبول کرے گا‘

ഒരു ദിവസം ഞങ്ങളും അംഗീകരിക്കപ്പെടും

‘ଦିନେ ଆମେ ଗ୍ରହଣୀୟ ହେବୁ’

‘कधी तरी हा समाज आम्हाला स्वीकारेल’

‘একদিন সমাজে আমাদেরও ঠাঁই হবে’

ஒருநாள் எங்களையும் ஏற்பார்கள்

'এদিন আমাক সকলোৱে আদৰি ল’ব’

Koovagam

At present, we can only accept donations in Indian rupees by Indian citizens. All donations made to the CounterMedia Trust are eligible for exemption under Section 80G of the Income Tax Act, 1961. Here is a copy of our exemption certificate.


India is bigger than New Delhi. And people need to know more about the rest of this vast nation.


Younger, media-saturated generations are growing up knowing little about their country, but a lot about the elites of a few metros and towns. For a narrowly-owned, commercially-driven media, the dumbing down of a nation is part of standard operating procedure. The last available data of the Centre for Media Studies (CMS, Delhi) show us that reports from New Delhi account for 66 per cent of news on the front pages of major dailies. The CMS data also found that just about 0.24 per cent of front page news came out of rural India. The TV channels are not much better.PARI exists to change that.We are a non-profit organisation. We publish under creative commons, and do not charge readers a subscription fee or put-up advertisements. Nothing is behind a paywall and we are completely free-to-access by anyone. We guard our independence and receive no direct grants from governments and corporations, nor any funding that could dictate our content. So, we are dependent on volunteer labour, donations from individuals, foundations and institutions that see value in independent and free media.PARI is changing the way Indian journalism reports and documents the rural.India is more than the elite of a few metros and towns. We report on rural lives and livelihoods, languages, communities, migrants and more. We need your help to pull off this most ambitious of Indian journalistic endeavours. The scale of this effort costs money. Donate generously - and spread the word about PARI.&nbsp;

Donate FAQs


Let’s get you acquainted

Welcome to PARI

All our content is, and will forever be free to consume. If you enjoy our work, you can support us by becoming a volunteer or by donating to help fund our work.

Want to republish this article? Please write to <a href="mailto:zahra@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">zahra@ruralindiaonline.org</a> with a cc to <a href="mailto:namita@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">namita@ruralindiaonline.org</a>

'Someday we will be accepted'

The Koovagam festival in Tamil Nadu, which ends on April 25 this year, draws many transgender persons. They come here to sing, dance, cry and pray – but mostly, to be themselves without fear of ostracism

Related stories

A rain-scented walk in Sivagangai

Living on ravaged land

Biswas and the bamboos on his bike

Recycling energy, Godda style

Bhadels of Goa

Pookadai: still throbbing with morning life

Koli Kadlas

Malnourishment high among children of migrants: study

Wheels of the rural Indian West

Living Under a Red Cloud in Bellary

Vedla – earrings of the Maher community

Dreaming of water, drowning in debt

Kali: the dancer and his dreams

Farmer's diet worse than a convict's

In Yavatmal, life goes on

Suicides are about the living, not the dead

Death of a carpenter

Hoisa Shigmo!

Women farmers: weaving a life in Anantapur

Defiant in Dhinkia

Spice and all that's nice

Kerala's Green Army

The ‘jugaad’ not-a-mobile

Health as someone else's wealth

Calibrating in a Kudumbashree assembly unit