The history of queerness in India

Part III: How were queer people treated?

As explained in Part II, the number of combinations of sex, gender and desire is essentially infinite. But if we consider only the phenotypes I mentioned here, the total number of combinations is 8640 (including vanilla people). Of these exactly 8 possibilities are recognised by Indic tradition, of which 6 count as queer, among which 5 are lumped into the ‘third gender’ category and one is represented only in fiction. That’s a 0.069% representation. (The universe is cruel)

With this kind of abysmal representation, it is reasonable to say that the general treatment historically received by queer people in India was on the grim side.

However the annals of Indian history and Indic mythology are vast and diverse with limited continuity of ideas, so there was a variation in how queer people were actually treated across time and geography.

The Arthaśāstra of Kautilya, an ancient treatise on politics which also doubles up as a book of law, very clearly calls homosexuality a capital crime. This dates from the 3rd century BCE:

striyaṃ ayonau gacchataḥ pūrvaḥ sāhasadaṇḍaḥ, puruṣaṃ adhimehataśca

Arthaśāstra, Book 4, Chapter 13, Verse 21

When a man has connection with a woman against the order of nature (a-yonau), he shall be punished with the first amercement. A man having sexual intercourse with another man shall also pay the first amercement.

Kautilya Arthashastra, Transl. R Shamasastry

The dharmaśāstras and smṛtis, which are prescriptive texts of ancient and medieval provenance, were indeed bigoted, and not merely in terms of inheritance:

cāṇḍālaś ca varāhaś ca kukkuṭaḥ śvā tathaiva ca
rajasvalā ca ṣaṇḍhaś ca nekṣerann aśnato dvijān

Manusmṛti 3.239

A Caṇḍāla, a pig, a cock, a dog, a menstruating woman, or a eunuch must not look at the Brahmins while they are eating.

Manu’s Code of Law, Patrick Olivelle

Exceptions existed, such as in the Tantrasadbhāva which said the opposite:

kaivartaṃ kāndukaṃ mlecchaṃ dhvajaṃ sūnākaram priye
vairūpyaṃ duḥkhitaṃ śaṇḍhaṃ klībaṃ andhaṃ tathāturam
malla-vandina-kausadyaṃ cchippakaṃ carmakārakam
jaṭṭaṃ bhuṭṭaṃ mathīraṃ ca kāpotaṃ kulabhakṣakam
medaṃ bhillaṃ ca ḍombaṃ ca tathānyaṃ bhaṇḍakārakam
evam anye pi ye noktā mānavā varavarṇini
na nindeta varārohe vratinaṃ yad upasthitam
haṭṭanāryo na vaktavyā nākrośet kanyakāḥ sudhīḥ

Tantrasadbhāva 9.552cd… 555a

This above verse gives a list of peoples who were systematically dehumanised (noktā mānavā lit. not called human) in 8th century Kashmir. The Tantrasadbhāva is a Shaivite text from that time and region that advises devotees to accept and treat these people with dignity. This text also differentiates between the śaṇḍha and klība.

As for folk tales, people adapted. Where the story of Gopesvara would bring a modicum of representation to the women and hijras of Vrindavan, Uttar Pradesh, the good people of Gujarat relied on Bahucharaji (patron Goddess of the Mehsana district and of eunuchs) instead. Where in Delhi hijras were entertainers in the Sultan or Badshah’s court, and the guards of his harem, in Madurai the Aravan were temple prostitutes. All strictly local, all of it different.

In the older eras the Hijra and similar communities did a sterling job of protecting itself by capitalising on a perceived ability of supernatural powers (curses and blessings) thereby earning the fear and respect of cishet society and a place in religion. But to say that venerating them was a part of our oh-so-progressive culture is a blatant insult to the horrific struggle they had to endure in order to earn this inclusion and their colonial and post-colonial status in society.

The wealthy and the upper castes always had an advantage of course, no matter their condition.

My mother tells a story of her mother’s paternal aunt, the late Ms Nani Bala Parui, and her childhood friend and neighbour in the village of Dakkhin Jhaporda, Domjur taluka, Howrah district, West Bengal, who lived in pre-Independent India. This friend was a female intersex person.

Fortunately for her, she was from a wealthy Brahmin family. The local hijra community became aware of her existence and demanded that she be handed over to them. But her family was supportive of her and instead elected to build an entire mansion in Domjur town for her and the hijras, (allegedly near the Domjur high school) and ensured that she and her companions wanted for nothing throughout her natural life. She was given an education, and spent her time in scholarly activities.

But perhaps even this is only a fairy tale. Or maybe someone will follow the leads and find that it’s a true story.

This is Part III of a series of articles on the history of queerness in India.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Appendix I