I was recently chief guest at a function, and one of the boys who had exploited me in the childhood was there. He could not even look at me, but I was kind to him. I have not forgiven, but I believe that what you do to me is your karma and what I do to you is my karma. What is gone is gone. I have lived it, I have overpowered it. I don't carry any baggage with me. It's done, it's finished, it's over. You can't change the past, but you can make the future much more beautiful.

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.

Hijras are a sexual minority that is visible, and yet we are treated as the invisibles. I believe I was never invisible. I thought, "I'm the face in the crowd, not the crowd."

People believe that if a hijra curses you, bad things will happen. That God Ram blessed hijras with this power, that our blessings and curses will come true. People give us money because they are scared of our curse. Now that's the only way hijras can survive - by saying, "Give me money, otherwise I'll curse you." That clap, which scares people, has become our identity. In a way, you use myths and misconceptions for your own survival.

I try to educate people. I've told the hijra community that it's not about getting breasts or having sexual reassignment surgery. First we need our rights. We need our dignity. We need inclusion in every bloody policy for the marginalized. We need education. We need dignified shelter. There are many like me who are able to earn without begging. But the fact is that before even coming into the social sector, I was running a dance class, and before that I was a model coordinator. I didn't want to beg, or do sex work, or sell myself.

The people who want to be segregated are part of a different generation, and they have lived their lives. They are the stakeholders and guardians of the culture. Historically, the British tried to erase them from their land, but they survived. They survived the non-acceptance of the government, so they have always been very secretive. They have created a barrier, which they don't want to lose.

When somebody asks me, "Who are you?" I tell them, "I am the oldest ethnic transgender community in the world, which has its own culture and own religious beliefs." And we are in four countries in South Asia: India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, and the Terai region of Nepal. What binds us hijras together is the same pain that has gone through our lives, which is much thicker than blood. That's why in our community we don't have old-age homes. Our guru may be horrible, but at the same time, we take care of the guru till the last breath.