Hijras are India’s ‘third gender’. Male by birth, and usually – though not always – eunuchs, they belong to a subculture that has existed on the Subcontinent for thousands of years. Once revered, the Victorian morals of British colonial rule turned them into social pariahs.
The five-strong clan in Sevan K Greene’s play are ruled with a rod of iron by ageing battleaxe Uma. They eke out a living dancing for crowds, begging in alleyways and selling themselves to men who find them an adequate compromise in a country where homosexuality is considered sinful. They may belong to an underclass, but it’s one steeped in history and superstition; as Uma says, they’re ‘feared, not respected.’ Around them is a fast-changing India, shrugging off its old customs.
All the necessary exposition is marbled through the first act, which also focuses on the arrival of young lad Dev, who turns out to be an able dancer – and looks pretty good in a sari and a wig. Thereafter the tone gets considerably darker, with somes seriously not-nice scenes following a falling-out between hijra Shakti and a long-standing client of hers. It’s Gary Wood as Shakti who really excels; something of this tormented character reflects society’s wider contradictions, where prostitutes and their clients are ‘married’ in religious ceremonies, where sex and violence co-exist, where holy tradition meets carnal transaction.
The future doesn’t look entirely bleak for hijras – in 2014, the Indian Supreme Court officially recognised a legitimate third gender. Whether the ingrained prejudices of society can be turned around is another matter; this bold play is certainly ambivalent.