Released just in time for Pride Month, Padma Shri folk artiste Manjamma Jogati’s memoir makes a pitch for transformational inclusivity
Manjamma
For instance, the last person I truly was in love with just left one fine day and I haven’t heard of him till date. Apparently he got married and has a family. I never looked that way ever again. Somehow, it felt wrong, especially given that we are looked at with worshipful eyes as having sacrificed everything to carry the Goddess on our heads and dedicate our lives to Her.
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This image gets sullied when we live with a man out of marriage. Since the men do not intend to marry nor are there systems that can accommodate such marriages, it is usually a relationship with no strings attached. Most such arrangements are of convenience to the men, but for us transgenders, it often arises from a desperate need for the company of the opposite gender and the little pleasure that comes with it.
However, the minute we realise that people’s perception of us changes, we tend to put that before our own desires, at least as Jogathis [community of transgender women sworn to follow goddess Yellamma] who stick by tradition. The trust that people have in us and our adherence to traditions can’t be sacrificed at the altar of our desires. We have the right to seek love but we have a choice to make: between earning the acceptance and respect of society and this.
When I broke away from Kalavva’s group for a short while, I rented a place in Hagaribommanahalli, along with two others. It was under their influence that I got involved with a man from a neighbouring village. He was almost seven-eight years younger than me. He had a Bullet motorcycle on which he would take me to temples, the theatre and around town, and that brought me great joy. I felt like we were a proper couple whenever we went to the movies or to restaurants. We must have we watched Dr Rajkumar’s Bandhana three times! I loved that movie, it was a love story.
But gradually I noticed that people were distancing themselves from me. She doesn’t look like a ‘Shetra Jogamma’, they would mutter. The affair lasted around three years but it began to earn me a bad name. As often happened, he started drinking and taking away my earnings. I found myself trading the rice and jowar I earned as alms for money and buying good quality rice and jowar to make tasty food for him. The two Jogathis who lived with me encouraged me, while I kept spending on this man. I had never ‘bought’ love like this before. They kept telling me it was my job to take care of him and keep him happy as he was defying society to be with me. He had chosen me over a wife and family and so I was duty-bound to ensure his happiness.
It was almost as if I was on a guilt trip, whereas the reality was that they were having a good time at my expense. For example, they never cooked. On the other hand, I was a good cook and they ensured I remained trapped in the relationship while they enjoyed my cooking. Meanwhile, I defaulted on six months of rent as my finances got depleted. People began to look down on me and this hurt. That’s when I realised I couldn’t let this happen. I called curtains on it and though it hurt, it was a relief.
He is still around and gives me a call whenever he comes to Mariammanahalli. We are very cordial to each other but I do not give him access to my life and I keep my distance. Ending that relationship also helped me break away from the Jogathis who, I realized, were only taking me down the wrong track, and get back to Kalavva’s group in Gollarahalli.
Excerpted with permission from From Manjunath To Manjamma : The Inspiring Life of a Transgender Folk Artist; HarperCollins India
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