Hijras leave their families quite early in their childhood and get to live in households exclusively of hijras led by a guru, an older hijra, who teaches them to be gain in feminity. Some of them have to undergo a ritual (and illegal) rough emasculation (cut of all the genital parts). They are on a social lower status than untouchables but their cursings are feared and that allows them to make a living. Infact, they live asking for money to bless weddings and births. If they don’t receive the offer they threat to curse or show their genital in public. Beside this, they also make a living dancing at parties and festival. In thepast years there’s has been and increase of number of hijras turning to sex workers because of minor incomes from their former dancers activities or personal choice.

I had quite a hard time trying to get into their houses but it was always a special, deep human experience. Some of them introduced themselves as dancers, some openly as sex workers (and offered me their services…), some let me portrait them with their mothers, some talked to me as an old friend, opened their houses and hearts.

My thanks goes to Miss Monica, Miss Sonia, Miss Lily and all of them, beautiful women.

I was so wrong.

With more than 14 millions of inhabitants and being capital of one the fastest growing countries in the world, when you get to know it New Delhi is everything but boring.
You can happen to meet a woman searching for his runaway son, to see child crack smokers, to wait for almost one hour for you train ticket, to walk in the middle of street fight or big fire unharmed or see rich indians having their expensive lunch at Mac Donalds. You can see street parades with children dressed like hindu gods while a dozen bands play a dozen different songs or find a huge bulding where the year before was something else or nothing at all.

I simply forgot that one place can be as many as the people who live in it, when you are in India. Thank Delhi for reminding me of it.