A couple of months ago, we were assigned the task of identifying an underrepresented community in Pakistan as part of a project for an Anthropology course. I thought the Khwaja-Sira community was a good example of a social group that has rarely had a narrative of its own.
Thus began the search for members of this community, in order to engage with them personally and better understand their experiences.
Our project focused on the disparity in their sources of livelihood; their work ethic involving, on the one hand, begging in the name of God, while engaging in sex work on the other. Our task was to examine this cleavage (if it were that) in their belief system.
Our search for Khwaja-Siras ended when we met Laado at her house in Chararh Pind (a slum in Lahore). As we arrived, she came out in a skintight black shalwar kameez and welcomed us inside her one-bedroom house.
On the front wall was a noticeably large-size portrait of Laado herself, posing in a manner many would deem inappropriate in our society. A little while later, I realised that there were similar pictures of her all around the place.
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The neighbourhood of Chararh Pind. |
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Laado's house. |
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The house was colourful. |
I knew Laado, like any other Khawaja-Sira, would be more than comfortable in talking about the role of faith in her life, and particularly in her experiences as a beggar. But the other half of the question, she would be hesitant to answer, because of the stigma attached to sex work in the Pakistani society.
I thought it made more sense, then, to start off talking about her routine, especially because it was Ramazan.
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In these initial discussions, we found that Laado not only fasted but also prayed regularly. She told us that she maintained a strong belief in the power of a ‘mannat’, and a Sufi shrine was the go-to place for when things seemed to get out of hand for her.
When we inquired about her aspirations in life, she told us that her biggest wish was to finance the Hajj of her parents.
It was clear, faith held a central importance in Laado's personal life. Often, she would feel the need to pray in testing times, but got lax once they were over – she told us this with embarrassment and a guilty smile.
‘It is exactly the same with us,’ I couldn't help murmuring.
I realised that for the first time, the ‘otherness’ and ‘abnormality’ of her existence had shrunken visibly in my eyes. Listening to Laado speak, I felt a sameness between the two of us, which I admit, wasn't present when I first started to talk to her.
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Interviewing Laado and other transgenders. |
To my surprise, we did not have to pry hard about Laado's life as a sex worker. She offered to show us pictures of her birthday. The pictures introduced us to Laado’s guru, her ‘mother’, her neighbours and her ‘special friend’. The conversation led to a more detailed discussion about Laado’s special friend.
As it turned out, Laado's relationship with a man is dependent on his ability to provide financial support. A Khawaja-Sira, we learned, would sever all ties with him if he is incapable of providing this support. From what I gathered, these men are supposed to give their partners (the Khawaja-Siras) a monthly allowance – this was a fundamental pre-condition for these relationships.
But that is only a sliver of what these relationships mean to Khawaja-Siras. While I conversed with Laado, I spotted a man's name tattooed on her left arm and a noticeable burn on her right arm. I asked her about it.
Me: Aap kay haath pe kia hua?
Laado: Bewafai ki nishani hai
She was referring to her ex-boyfriend, who had cheated on her and had become ‘friends’ with another transgender, so she hurt herself. Apparently, every time she was betrayed by someone she was emotionally attached with, she turned to self-infliction. Her ex-boyfriend was also torn out of some of her birthday pictures.
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Narrow streets and small houses. |
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A shop in the nieghbourhood. |
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Interviewing Laado and other transgenders. |
At one point, Laado recounted how she surprised her boyfriend on Valentine’s Day. She described how she decorated the room with roses and candles and wore a red dress. Her enthusiasm was noticeable when she got around to describing the arrangements she made for the surprise.
It was clear, her relationship had had an intense psychological and emotional impact on her. While her face lit up recalling the pleasant memories, the fight had driven her to tear away his pictures and even harm herself.
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She had aspired for a life-long relationship that ended with her boyfriend’s insincerity – it made me wonder, how is this different from any relationship between a man and woman? In fact, this is the understanding that led her to share her story freely with me.
Ladoo's story struck my very core. The sense of difference and distance existed more in my mind than in hers.
More often than not, we look out at everything through a very small window of bias and that is our problem. It is these perceptions that stand between every Laado of Pakistan and her basic human rights.
—All photos by author
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