A hijra is someone who has transitioned from male to female, but we don't consider ourselves female because culturally we belong to a completely different section of society. Many hijras are castrated, but it's not compulsory. They say it's the soul which is hijra. We feel we are neither man nor woman, but we enjoy femininity. I enjoy womanhood, but I am not a woman. It's very confusing.

I was a sick child, I was scared, and honestly speaking, I never thought about why I didn't tell anyone about my abuse. Abuse victims don't have all the answers, and I never thought it was abuse. My generation was totally different. Now a small child knows many things, much more than what we knew. When I understood it was not right, it was much later.

At times, my parents said, "Let's get the child married," and I said a big no. Impossible. How could I be with a woman? I told them, "If you try to get me married, I'll get myself castrated and commit suicide." It was the best weapon. They were shocked, and they knew that if I decided, I would do it. I was selfish. I just wanted to live my life.

According to the norms of the hijras community, it's not necessary that one be castrated. Castration is your choice. If you do it, testosterone doesn't build up, femininity comes, but I have always said that castration is not the right way. A person should go for complete sexual reassignment surgery, hormone therapy, psychological counseling.

I was first sexually exploited when I was seven, by a distant cousin at a family wedding. Even after that I was routinely molested by older cousins and their friends. See, my innocence was taken away and I became mature at one bloody incident. I believe I never had a childhood. I grew up as an elderly person. And that's what my femininity brought upon me. Of course, in a patriarchal society, hijras' bodies are thought of as toys.

When I started meeting members of the hijra community, it was a whole different ballgame. They were like me. This was the first time I felt that I was with other people who were the same as me. It was not about cruising a man, it was not about sleeping with somebody - it was beyond that. It was so much a community, wanting the best for each other, loving each other, caring for each other.

When we, hijras, started our activism, we had to tell people, "We exist, we are humans. Please give us nothing but our basic dignity." The biggest misery in the world, I believe, is the feeling of being unloved, and that this community faces a lot. You're not even considered to be human. You're considered transparent. We were ignored until we started organizing, when HIV first became a factor. Even in the HIV world, people could not believe that hijras have sex. And then also we were put in the category of men having sex with men, the gay community.