BORN THIS WAY

A glimpse into a transwoman’s resilient life, both synchronously coveted and singled out

- Dhananjay Chauhan & Naorem Anuja

I often think about the way plants grow. Not all stretch upwards, tall and straight. Some instead curve, diverge, turn as necessary, reaching out for the space and light it needs to survive and bloom. As a child, I knew I was different from others, but had little inkling about how that difference would mark me out.

I was born in Uttarakhand in July 1971. Soon after, my father got a job in Punjab University, and we moved to Chandigarh. My parents named me Dhananjay. I was three when I first told my mum that I wanted to join in on a kitchen chore. I would watch fascinated as she kneaded dough to make rotis for our daily meals. My request however met with a dismissive wave and resistance—perhaps because I was a little child and would hassle more than help; partly because in my home, like in most Indian homes, a boy has no place in the kitchen.

That night, once everyone fell asleep, I tip-toed into the kitchen. The light was out of my reach, but, scrambling in the dark, reached into the large, heavy container where flour was stored, put some into a vessel, poured in water and stuck my fingers into the soupy mess. I had no idea what I was doing, but mimicked what I saw my mother do every day. It was thrilling. The sound of my tiny hands, slapping against the wet, unset dough woke her up. Worried that a cat had strayed in, she looked in to check, and found her eldest boy flour soaked, playing house.

When I turned five, it was time for my