The first thing we have to remember when we are going to look for queer characters in ancient stories or historical records and try to understand what their attitudes towards queer people were, is that we have to ask separate and specific questions for each letter of the acronym LGBTQA+ or QUILTBAG.

Dr Pattanaik (like a lot of people), of course, fails to do this on many counts.

And then there is the problem with applying queer theory to Indic mythology.

Two types of sources are usually cited in respect of queerness in Indian history:

1. Mythological — Vedic literature, Epics, Puranas, Buddhist, Jain, Sikh and Sufi literature, Folklore; also Sculpture, Paintings, Music and Theatre with mythological erotic themes
2. Historical — Texts on Anatomy, Surgery and Medicine, Manuals of Law and Conduct (including sex manuals), Court Records and Censuses

Medical texts of the time are limited to talking about anatomy, and manuals of law and conduct are limited to talking about behaviour, and in any case they talk about only 5 kinds of queer people, but at least their references are direct. With mythology and artistic depictions thereof we have a few specific problems.

Firstly, in mythology the narrative itself is supernatural. And supernatural is not natural. This means

1. We cannot properly confirm whether characters depicted or implied to be queer in these stories are fanciful inventions or stand-ins for real queer people
2. Because supernatural is not natural, acceptance of supernatural queer characters does not necessarily translate into acceptance of real queer people.
   This applies to all fictional characters BTW e.g. Robin Hood and his story is celebrated, but real people who try imitating him usually end up in jail

Secondly mythology is hyperbolic: it is meant to describe the lives of extraordinary people with supernatural powers/intervention, and is not representative of the lives of common people.

e.g., the whole theme of the Mahābhārata is the ability of a privileged few to legally subvert the norm/morality while still upholding Dharma

Thirdly many common stories and characters that are claimed as being examples of queerness, are not direct, but are supposedly symbolic. Dr Pattanaik says as much in at least two places.

Now it is true that sometimes an author or artist implies that a particular character is queer while not explicitly admitting such a thing. This kind of indirect reference to queerness is called Queer Coding in literary criticism.

Proving queer coding

Such a method is frequently adopted by queer artists who want to get their message across while not drawing the anger of the moral guardians.

But claiming that something is queer coded is very different from proving it.

In older British literature, certain character archetypes are explicitly recognised as being queer coded, e.g. the confirmed bachelor, the pipe-smoking butch games mistress in a public school for girls. We can say this with certainty because the recurrence of these tropes has been properly documented and studied, by openly queer authors themselves.

In contrast, citing temple sculptures of armed women as being examples of butch/masculine presenting women is just unfounded speculation, not queer coding. Citing a sculpture of women dancing in a circle and claiming that one or more of them is lesbian by virtue of probability is also not queer coding. It is merely an exercise in challenging the audience’s heteronormativity.

Besides, such a claim goes both ways. Just because a sculpture or story shows two people of the same gender having sex, doesn’t mean that they are homosexual, only that they are performing homosexual acts.

Queer coding as a tool of oppression

Furthermore, queer coding is also (mis)used by bigots in hateful literature, particularly in two ways.

First, a method called queer baiting, where authors pretend to write a queer character to capture the attention (and money!) of queer audiences and then end up writing them as cis-het people. One of the most famous contemporary examples of this is Steven Moffat’s treatment of Sherlock and John’s relationship in the BBC series Sherlock.

Now, Dr Pattanaik says that

Hindu society, however, with its foundations in patriarchy and heterosexuality, deems non-conventional gender identities and sexual behaviors inappropriate for social stability. They are tolerated only in fringes, especially if they express themselves through patriarchal and heterosexual vocabulary.

Source: https://devdutt.com/books/man-who-was-a-woman.html

What he’s describing is essentially queer coding, but when we actually look at the examples in mythology, they are clearly queer baiting.

Take the common examples of gender bending followed by sexual intercourse, for instance. The typical scenario is this: there is a person A of one gender, totally okay with being as their current gender. Then something happens, and they need to have sex with person B of the same gender. Then the Gods or some powerful supernatural beings intervene, and person A’s gender is magically changed. They then proceed to have sex with person B, and are totally happy with their new gender.

Dr Pattanaik (and others) claim that this is meant to be queer coding for gay sex.

But really what does this kind of story actually say? It says that the only dharmic way to have sex with someone of the same gender is to change your own gender.

This is like saying that the only way for a woman to fight in the army is for her to change her gender (a claim also made in the Mahābhārata).

Especially when you combine such stories with a real-life situation in which only femme-presenting gay men are recognised, and that too as a separate gender, it spreads the toxic idea that a gay man has no option but to either give up his masculinity or have sex exclusively with prostitutes (or rape other men who are subordinate to him).

Where even the Gods have to perform and conform to heteronormativity, what choice has the common gay man have?

The second form of misuse is when villainous characters are queer coded in order to exploit the public fear and hatred of queer people, and to further propagate hatred of queer people. A lot of the older Disney Villains are examples of these.

And we do have queer coded villains in Indic mythology.

If we are indeed looking for queer-coded characters, we should also include more obscure stories like that of the Kings Haṃsa and Ḍibhaka, narrated by Kṛṣṇa Vāsudeva himself in the Mahābhārata.

भये तु समुपक्रान्ते जरासन्धे समुद्यते | मन्त्रोऽयं मन्त्रितो राजन्कुलैरष्टादशावरैः ||३४||अनारमन्तो निघ्नन्तो महास्त्रैः शतघातिभिः | न हन्याम वयं तस्य त्रिभिर्वर्षशतैर्बलम् ||३५||
तस्य ह्यमरसङ्काशौ बलेन बलिनां वरौ | नामभ्यां हंसडिभकावित्यास्तां योधसत्तमौ ||३६||
तावुभौ सहितौ वीरौ जरासन्धश्च वीर्यवान् | त्रयस्त्रयाणां लोकानां पर्याप्ता इति मे मतिः ||३७||
न हि केवलमस्माकं यावन्तोऽन्ये च पार्थिवाः | तथैव तेषामासीच्च बुद्धिर्बुद्धिमतां वर ||३८||
अथ हंस इति ख्यातः कश्चिदासीन्महान्नृपः | स चान्यैः सहितो राजन्सङ्ग्रामेऽष्टादशावरैः ||३९||
हतो हंस इति प्रोक्तमथ केनापि भारत |तच्छ्रुत्वा डिभको राजन्यमुनाम्भस्यमज्जत ||४०||
विना हंसेन लोकेऽस्मिन्नाहं जीवितुमुत्सहे | इत्येतां मतिमास्थाय डिभको निधनं गतः ||४१||
तथा तु डिभकं श्रुत्वा हंसः परपुरञ्जयः | प्रपेदे यमुनामेव सोऽपि तस्यां न्यमज्जत ||४२||
तौ स राजा जरासन्धः श्रुत्वाप्सु निधनं गतौ | स्वपुरं शूरसेनानां प्रययौ भरतर्षभ ||४३||
ततो वयममित्रघ्न तस्मिन्प्रतिगते नृपे | पुनरानन्दिताः सर्वे मथुरायां वसामहे ||४४||

Chapter 12, Mantraparva, Sabhāparva, Mahābhārata

But after the immediate cause of fear was removed (by the death of Kaṃsa), Jarāsandha (Kaṃsa’s father-in-law), took up arms. Ourselves consisting of the eighteen younger branches of the Yādavas arrived at the conclusion that even if we struck our enemies continually with excellent weapons capable of taking the lives of the foes, we should still be unable to do anything unto him even in three hundred years. He hath two friends that are like unto the immortals, and in point of strength the foremost of all men endued with might. They are called Haṃsa and Ḍibhaka who are both incapable of being slain by weapons. The mighty Jarāsandha, being united with them, becomes incapable, I think, of being vanquished by even the three worlds. O thou foremost of all intelligent men, this was not our opinion alone but all other kings also were of the same mind. There lived, O monarch, a different king of the name of Haṃsa, who was slain by Rāma (aka Balarāma) after a battle of eighteen days. But, O Bhārata, hearing people say that Haṃsa had been killed, Ḍibhaka, O king, decided that he could not live without Haṃsa. He accordingly jumped into the waters of the Yamunā and killed himself. Afterwards when Haṃsa, the subjugator of hostile heroes, heard that Ḍibhaka had killed himself, he went to the Yamunā and jumped into its waters. Then, O bull of the Bharata race, king Jarāsandha, hearing that both Haṃsa and Ḍibhaka had been killed, returned to his kingdom with an empty heart. After Jarāsandha had returned, O slayer of all foes, we were filled with joy and continued to live at Mathurā.

Source: Edited from Kisari Mohan Ganguli’s translation. Emphasis mine

This story not only bears a striking resemblance to the death of Droṇācārya during the Mahābhārata war, but also to the climax of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. It is really difficult not to notice the ‘star-crossed lovers’ trope here.

What really clinches this narrative is that Haṃsa and Ḍibhaka are neither described as either being friends nor family, deliberately leaving wiggle room for speculation. The fact that they were driven to suicide through a deception planned by God himself has extra unfortunate implications.

Ignoring such stories creates a skewed impression of ancient Indic attitudes towards queer people. Therefore I implore all people to choose their heroes carefully, and avoid looking up to mythology for empowerment — be they women, LGBTQ+ people, avarṇas or any other oppressed class — truly, you will find only disappointment, not heroes. Look instead into real history, and to our present accomplishments — through these alone we will make progress and find justice.

This is Part IV of a series of articles on the history of queerness in India.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Appendix I

As explained in Part II, the number of combinations of sex, gender and desire is essentially infinite. But if we consider only the phenotypes I mentioned here, the total number of combinations is 8640 (including vanilla people). Of these exactly 8 possibilities are recognised by Indic tradition, of which 6 count as queer, among which 5 are lumped into the ‘third gender’ category and one is represented only in fiction. That’s a 0.069% representation. (The universe is cruel)

With this kind of abysmal representation, it is reasonable to say that the general treatment historically received by queer people in India was on the grim side.

However the annals of Indian history and Indic mythology are vast and diverse with limited continuity of ideas, so there was a variation in how queer people were actually treated across time and geography.

The Arthaśāstra of Kautilya, an ancient treatise on politics which also doubles up as a book of law, very clearly calls homosexuality a capital crime. This dates from the 3rd century BCE:

striyaṃ ayonau gacchataḥ pūrvaḥ sāhasadaṇḍaḥ, puruṣaṃ adhimehataśca

Arthaśāstra, Book 4, Chapter 13, Verse 21

When a man has connection with a woman against the order of nature (a-yonau), he shall be punished with the first amercement. A man having sexual intercourse with another man shall also pay the first amercement.

Kautilya Arthashastra, Transl. R Shamasastry

The dharmaśāstras and smṛtis, which are prescriptive texts of ancient and medieval provenance, were indeed bigoted, and not merely in terms of inheritance:

cāṇḍālaś ca varāhaś ca kukkuṭaḥ śvā tathaiva ca
rajasvalā ca ṣaṇḍhaś ca nekṣerann aśnato dvijān

Manusmṛti 3.239

A Caṇḍāla, a pig, a cock, a dog, a menstruating woman, or a eunuch must not look at the Brahmins while they are eating.

Manu’s Code of Law, Patrick Olivelle

Exceptions existed, such as in the Tantrasadbhāva which said the opposite:

kaivartaṃ kāndukaṃ mlecchaṃ dhvajaṃ sūnākaram priye
vairūpyaṃ duḥkhitaṃ śaṇḍhaṃ klībaṃ andhaṃ tathāturam
malla-vandina-kausadyaṃ cchippakaṃ carmakārakam
jaṭṭaṃ bhuṭṭaṃ mathīraṃ ca kāpotaṃ kulabhakṣakam
medaṃ bhillaṃ ca ḍombaṃ ca tathānyaṃ bhaṇḍakārakam
evam anye pi ye noktā mānavā varavarṇini
na nindeta varārohe vratinaṃ yad upasthitam
haṭṭanāryo na vaktavyā nākrośet kanyakāḥ sudhīḥ

Tantrasadbhāva 9.552cd… 555a

This above verse gives a list of peoples who were systematically dehumanised (noktā mānavā lit. not called human) in 8th century Kashmir. The Tantrasadbhāva is a Shaivite text from that time and region that advises devotees to accept and treat these people with dignity. This text also differentiates between the śaṇḍha and klība.

As for folk tales, people adapted. Where the story of Gopesvara would bring a modicum of representation to the women and hijras of Vrindavan, Uttar Pradesh, the good people of Gujarat relied on Bahucharaji (patron Goddess of the Mehsana district and of eunuchs) instead. Where in Delhi hijras were entertainers in the Sultan or Badshah’s court, and the guards of his harem, in Madurai the Aravan were temple prostitutes. All strictly local, all of it different.

In the older eras the Hijra and similar communities did a sterling job of protecting itself by capitalising on a perceived ability of supernatural powers (curses and blessings) thereby earning the fear and respect of cishet society and a place in religion. But to say that venerating them was a part of our oh-so-progressive culture is a blatant insult to the horrific struggle they had to endure in order to earn this inclusion and their colonial and post-colonial status in society.

The wealthy and the upper castes always had an advantage of course, no matter their condition.

My mother tells a story of her mother’s paternal aunt, the late Ms Nani Bala Parui, and her childhood friend and neighbour in the village of Dakkhin Jhaporda, Domjur taluka, Howrah district, West Bengal, who lived in pre-Independent India. This friend was a female intersex person.

Fortunately for her, she was from a wealthy Brahmin family. The local hijra community became aware of her existence and demanded that she be handed over to them. But her family was supportive of her and instead elected to build an entire mansion in Domjur town for her and the hijras, (allegedly near the Domjur high school) and ensured that she and her companions wanted for nothing throughout her natural life. She was given an education, and spent her time in scholarly activities.

But perhaps even this is only a fairy tale. Or maybe someone will follow the leads and find that it’s a true story.

This is Part III of a series of articles on the history of queerness in India.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Appendix I

Part II: A comparison of vocabulary

Scientists and Queer theorists currently recognise at least five distinct traits related to sex, gender and desire. They are:

• Assigned sex: may be assigned at birth based on genital physiology or may be changed via hormonal and/or surgical sex reassignment
  Typical Phenotypes: male, female, intersex
  Associated terminology: Transitioning — the process of hormonal/surgical sex reassignment
• Gender identity: the gender that a person identifies as
  Typical Phenotypes: male, female, non-binary, gender-fluid, agender
  Associated terminology: Cisgendered — when assigned sex matches gender identity; Transgendered — when assigned sex does not match gender identity. Note that a Transgender woman identifies as a woman, and a transgender man identifies as a man. Transgender non-binary persons also exist.
• Gender presentation/expression: the gender that a person presents as (not to be confused with gender roles, which are socio-cultural rules/expectations regarding the function of people in a community)
  Typical Phenotypes: macho/butch, femme, androgynous, agender
  Associated terminology: Transvestite — when a person presents as a gender other than assigned sex or gender identity
• Romantic orientation: the level of romantic attraction a person has to other people and the gender of the persons whom they feel romantically attracted to
  Typical Level Phenotypes: Alloromantic, Demiromantic, Aromantic
  Typical Orientation Phenotypes : Heteroromantic, Homoromantic, Biromantic, Panromantic
• Sexual orientation: the level of sexual attraction a person has to other people and the gender of the persons whom they feel sexually attracted to
  Typical Level Phenotypes: Allosexual, Demisexual, Asexual
  Typical Orientation Phenotypes : Heterosexual, Homosexual, Bisexual, Pansexual

All these traits are expressed independently of each other. And all of these traits are found in a continuous spectrum. Other traits may come to surface with the progress of research.

However, just like all chemical elements are possible but not equally abundant in nature, so too, all gender and sexual configurations are not equally common in human populations. Most human beings are cisgendered, identify sharply as either male or female, present as their assigned sex/identified gender, and are alloromantic, heteroromantic, allosexual and heterosexual.

[Note: Future research may prove otherwise, especially as local and global stigma dies out. e.g. already it is claimed that the majority of human beings are biromantic and bisexual]

Historically speaking anybody who expressed any of these five traits differently from the majority were classified as sexual deviants and/or gender non-conforming.

The English word queer, which originally meant ‘strange’ or ‘unwell’, was applied to these people as a slur. Over time, by dint of activism and scholarship, the term was reclaimed.

However this term was both historically and presently non-specific. That is to say the cisgendered femme homoromantic homosexual woman (aka a vanilla lesbian) can identify as queer, but so can a femme gender fluid panromantic asexual intersex person.

Indeed the word queer is included in the acronym LGBTQA+ or QUILTBAG primarily for the benefit of persons with complicated and/or ambiguous gender and sexual orientation.

Thus far we’ve seen the modern academic vocabulary, now let’s come to the ancient Indic one.

Assigned sex:

• Apart from Male and Female, Intersex persons were recognised as ubhayavyañjana, meaning ‘having both male and female organs’ and nastrīpuṃsa or nastrīpuṃsaka, meaning ‘neither man nor woman’.
• Surgical sex reassignment was completely unheard of. However both mutilation of male genitals and female breasts have been mentioned as a form of punishment. Men who were surgically castrated i.e. eunuchs, were known as ṣaṇḍha (the word is also a verb meaning to castrate).

Gender identity:

• Gender identity and gender presentation were considered indistinguishable from assigned sex. Therefore true transgenderism by itself was not recognised.
• Transgender men (those Assigned Female At Birth) suffered complete erasure.

Gender presentation:

• The presence of butch/masculine presenting women, either cis or transgender is not recognised in the Indian historical record. (Women bearing weapons were not examples of butchness — not now, not ever)
• Femme/feminine presenting men, both cis and transgender, were lumped under a category called klība, meaning ‘unmanly’

Romantic orientation:

• Romantic and Sexual attraction were not distinguished. Romantic orientation was not recognised. However the notions of platonic love (non-romantic) and courtly love (romantic but celibate) are well-attested as sakhā bhāva and niskāma prema respectively.

Sexual orientation:

• The kāmasutra, smṛti literature, dharmashashtras and erotic temple sculptures depict homosexual practices but not homosexual orientation.
• The basic idea of sexual orientation i.e. that a person is permanently predisposed to be attracted to persons of one or more particular gender — is not recognised by most Indians — either ancient or modern.
• Gender roles were conceived of as being a rigid and clearly defined binary and also included sexual roles — this what purusha and stri prakṛti referred to. All visible deviants from the binary were recognised as tritīya prakṛti, i.e. the so-called third gender, by Caraka and others. In the kāmasutra, this category also included perfectly cisgender heterosexual people who preferred the use of sex toys and non PIV sex.
• Only femme/feminine presenting gay men were recognised under the category of klība. Buddhist Vinaya literature uses the Sanskrit and Pali category paṇḍaka in a similar fashion.
• The terms tritīya prakṛti, klība and paṇḍaka can be perfectly understood as analogues of the Arabic term khawal, as described by Dmitris Almyrantis in his answer:

To understand mediaeval attitudes towards homosexuality, we need to stop thinking of the idea of straight/homo, because this was definitely not how people in past eras (and indeed, often people today) thought of it.

The idea was that during sex, someone was active (penetrating) or passive (being penetrated). It was universally acceptable for men to engage in active sex without a trace of scorn: but it could be stigmatising to be penetrated. Men who engaged in passive sex were known as khawwal, a “third gender” which fit neither into the male nor the female gender role. They dressed like women, put on feminine clothes and were accepted in society as khawwal: but they were not “reputable men” in any shape or form because of their effeminacy.

• There was no such thing as a lesbian or a non-femme gay man in the Indian psyche — their sexual identity was disregarded, and their activities were deemed an occasional indulgence at best, and at most an unfortunate lifestyle choice.
• Because people were classified as either normal or deviant, bi/pan sexuality was also not recognised.
• Asexual, and demisexual people suffered complete erasure. Especially when it comes to asexuality, it must be noted that recognition of celibacy or monogamy, which are both lifestyle choices, is not in any way a recognition of asexuality and demisexuality, which are sexual orientations.

Mythical categories

• A separate terminology, namely strīpuṃsa meaning ‘he who was both woman and man’ is used specifically for the mythic figure Śikhaṇḍi in the BORI Critical Edition of Mahabharata. This term is the antonym of the abovementioned term nastrīpuṃsa.
• Like Śikhaṇḍi, There are a number of mythical persons who were born and who lived as one gender and were magically changed into another gender such as and Bhangaswa in the Mahabharata, Puranjana in the Bhagavata Purana and the God Visnu himself in multiple Puranas. These characters are not examples of transgenderism because they identified with their assigned sex both before and after their transition. However an argument can be made for them being examples of genderfluid heterosexual people.
• The character Sthūṇākarṇa who gave up his manhood to Śikhaṇḍi however, is consistently identified as male even after his transition, acknowledged merely as strīsvarūpavān — male person in female form. Many examples from later sources, including the Gopesvara form of the God Siva and the strīsvesa tradition in which male deities in temples are dressed in feminine clothing on certain occasions are treated similarly. As such these are not direct examples of any forms of queerness.
• The manifestation of Siva and Parvati as ardhanarisvara is a conjoined form of two separate deities, similar to Harihara, and is not in any way a reference to queer people.
• A number of examples of supernatural male pregnancies occur in Indic mythology. However neither the assigned sex nor the gender identity of the male gestational parent is ever called into question. They are simply considered men. They are also not examples of queerness.

These terminologies were not rigid, and indeed changed over time.

The word nastrīpuṃsaka was shortened to its more well-known form napumsaka, and now included eunuchs, transgender women, intersex as well as genderfluid persons.

Meanwhile in medieval times, klība became neutral, to the extent that it was used to denote the grammatical neuter gender also. Medieval versions of the epics and Puranas changed the nature of some characters e.g. Śikhaṇḍi was now described as a eunuch or impotent male (the original Śikhaṇḍi fathered children), and the word used for him was klība.

Simultaneously, the word napuṃsaka took on the pejorative tone and other meanings of klība, and in modern Indian languages this word is widely used as a slur.

The Hijra community (and similar communities known by different names in different Indian languages) which has been attested in India since early medieval times has included eunuchs, intersex people, femme presenting men (gay, straight and bi/pan) and transgender women. Although the definition of the word napuṃsaka technically includes all these people, we do not in fact find this word actually being used to refer to this community.

In regards to the specific claim that either napuṃsaka or Hijra is an equivalent of the English word queer, this does not stand up to scrutiny.

To demonstrate his claim, Dr Pattanaik quotes a chaupai of the Ramacharita manas, in which “Nar, Napunsak, Nari” are mentioned. However it is amply clear from that context, that it is the gender being referred to, not the sexuality.

Indeed Hijra and napuṃsaka refer only to a specific subset of queer people, and do not include a vast number of queer identities. Hijra and napuṃsaka are miscellaneous terms, whereas queer is an all-inclusive term.

Secondly, it must be remembered that term queer has been largely destigmatised, whereas napumsaka is not. The word Hijra fares marginally better in this regard, due to some level of activism.

Meanwhile new words have been invented in modern India, partly due to the influence of western activists, such as samakami (Bengali) or samalaingik (Hindi) for homosexuals. This process will continue as both language and society work towards progress.

This is Part II of a series of articles on the history of queerness in India.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Appendix I

Indic mythology is stuffed to the gills with supernatural pregnancies. Could some of them be queer coded?

To understand this we need to first learn the basic viewpoint about the mechanics of pregnancy and childbirth in Indic mythology. Here, one must remember that actual medical textbooks like Caraka or Susruta Samhita, which are more anatomically accurate, were written at least a few centuries after the various religious texts were composed. So the ancient mythological point of view did not concur with the ancient medical point of view.

That said, here’s what the Mahabharata says on the role of the mother and father in childbirth.

bhāryāṁ patiḥ saṁpraviśya sa yasmāj jāyate punaḥ
jāyāyā iti jāyātvaṁ purāṇāḥ kavayo viduḥ

The husband entering the womb of the wife cometh out himself in the form of the son. Therefore is the wife called by those cognisant of the Vedas as Jāyā (she of whom one is born).

spoken by Shakuntala, Adiparva, 68, 36

01069029a bhastrā mātā pituḥ putro yena jātaḥ sa eva saḥ

The mother is but the sheath of flesh in which the father begets the son. Indeed the father himself is the son.

Antarikse Devavani (Voice of the heavens), Adiparva, 69, 29

This is not a one-off claim, neither is it restricted to the Mahabharata.

This philosophy is demonstrated repeatedly in multiple sources through the births of characters such as Rishyashringa, Drona, the twins Kripa and Kripi, and all examples in which the semen of sages, due to the power of their austerities, is amogha i.e. eternally effective, even in the absence of egg or womb. Although women (celestial nymphs aka apsaras) are involved in all these cases, their only role is to arouse the man in question so that the semen is produced in the first place.

This philosophy explains why the Gods had to have physical sex with Kunti and Madri in order to give birth to the Pandavas, and why Visnu had to turn into Mohini in order to conceive the deity Ayappa.

This philosophy is also the direct reason behind the various folk tales where two women having sex are able to conceive, such as the much quoted folktale about the birth of Bhagiratha. Because females only contribute the flesh of the child, the product of their coitus is typically a boneless, soul-less bag of flesh. It takes the magical involvement of a male sage to turn it into a real child.

Buddhists and Jain texts reveal that they also believed in male sufficiency, as far procreation was concerned.

Thus the overarching philosophy espoused by all Indic traditions is strictly heteronormative, and is not shaken by most examples of supernatural pregnancies.

That leaves us with the various cases of male pregnancies.

Four main cases come to mind — the pregnancy of the eponymous Purusha in the Purusha sukta, the case of Yuvanasva in the Mahabharata and the case of the Yadava prankster in the Mausalaparva of the Mahabharata and most famously, Vishnu giving birth to Brahma from a lotus growing out of his navel. Let’s investigate them one by one.

In the case of Purusha, the source is in Vedic Sanskrit, and usually considered part of the Rig Veda Samhita, but may be a later interpolation. Here Goddesses are indeed involved, and their role is to arouse the creative forces of the Purusha, who then impregnates himself. His children emerge from him, killing him in the process. Thus the universe is brought forth from the Purusha’s sacrifice.

This story is basically one of parthenogenesis — even comparable to the ancient Greek myth from which the term actually comes from. It is properly seen as a cosmogonical myth, and has no connection to human queerness whatsoever.

Second, I’d like to talk about the birth of Brahma. Or even better, show you a picture.

So basically, Vishnu giving birth to Brahma is a reverse embryo. The embryo Vishnu gives birth to the creator God Brahma. This is therefore just another origin story for the universe (and a rather brilliant, if sexist one), and also has nothing to do with human queerness.

Third, the Yadava prankster. The story goes that some sages visited the kingdom of the Yadavas and instead of treating them with respect, their hosts decided to play a trick on them. So one of the men dressed up like a pregnant woman and presented himself to the sages, asking them to predict the sex of the child.

The sages were upset by this prank, and cursed the man, saying that he would give birth to the doom of the Yadava people. And due to the mechanics of curses in Indic mythology, that is exactly what happened. The man developed labour pains and surgeons pulled out some bulrushes out of him.

These bulrushes were naturally thrown away carelessly and they took root. Later they brought forth weapons, which the Yadavas used to kill each other in an internecine war. And so the curse was fulfilled.

All curse, no queerness. There wasn’t even an actual baby.

Finally, Yuvanasva. In the Critical Edition of the Mahabharata, Yuvanasva goes out hunting and at the end of the day, enters a hermitage, tired and hungry. Everyone is asleep, and there’s no food and water anywhere. However, the residents of the hermitage had recently concluded a sacrifice, and there was some spilled ghee (clarified butter) on the grass surrounding the sacrificial fire pits (presumably it spilled from the ladles and containers of ghee used to feed the fire). Finding himself at the end of his rope, Yuvanasva licked the grass clean, consuming what little ghee he found, and went to sleep. And in the morning he found himself with child.

The other gent who answered this question will tell you that the offering of ghee is a stand-in for the vital energy i.e. semen of the sages, and that the Fire deity Agni, in the capacity of mouth of the Gods, is therefore an eater of semen.

He will probably neglect to tell you that the fire pits were considered feminine, and addressed by the names Svaha and Svadha, and the ersatz semen was actually absorbed by the same Goddess, who then gave birth to/nursed Agni and Agni in turn conducted the sustenance to the other Gods. Thus Agni was most definitely not a semen eater.

But one thing is true, the ghee was most definitely a stand-in for semen.

Ghee is considered the essence of milk, and an example of the triumph of human enterprise (purusartha) because of the sheer amount of processing involved in its manufacture (Animal husbandry, milking, separation of cream, churning and heating).

Other things typically offered to the sacrificial fire include actual food-grains (which are seeds of plants) and the fat of sacrificial animals (which is considered the essence of the animal).

So what Yuvanasva did was consume the spilled ‘essence’ of the sages. And the essence of the sages is amogha. And if a sage’s semen can turn into a child inside a clay pot (drona), it certainly can turn into a child inside a human male’s body.

So Yuvanasva’s pregnancy was not so much about his gender or sexuality, but about the pious virility of the sages who had conducted the sacrifice. In that sense, the birth of Mandhata (for that was the name of the boy born from Yuvanasva) is no different from the birth of Drona and the others.

I mean sure, the surgeons who removed Mandhata from Yuvanasva’s body were the male deities the Asvins, and the baby was nursed by the male God Indra who simply manifested a stream of milk from his (intact) fingertip, but that just makes it an all-male miniature cosmogony.

Could this be queer-coding? Sure. Man swallowing symbolic semen gets pregnant without jeopardising his masculinity and gives birth to a hero — that’s a positively uplifting story compared to the gender bending stories. Hurray! We’ve finally found a good example of queer representation.

This is the appendix to a series of articles on the history of queerness in India.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Appendix I

From gay Sufi lovers to Hindu transgender women. India's sexual fluidity was always a dirty, barbaric concept to its western invaders and it is crucial for the LGBTQ community here in the west to understand this. This isn't India becoming 'westernised'. It's India decolonising.

A history of queerness in India

The recent judicial activism on LGBT rights in India is being lauded as a return to Indian values and culture. But is that claim true?

Part I: Living in the Past

Once upon a time, in what is now India, an edition of the astronomical text called the Surya Siddhanta described an unbelievably small unit of time — a truti, which was the time taken by a sharp needle to pierce a lotus petal, alternatively defined as 1/(6 x 60⁷)th of a day . The smallest practical unit of time however, was a vipala, defined as 6 x 60⁴ trutis or 1/60³th of a day. Their units of keeping time progressed sexagesimally, in the Babylonian fashion.

Fast forward to 16th Century Europe where advanced mechanical clocks allowed the use of an all-new unit called the second, defined as 1/(24 x 60²)th of a day. Over the years their clocks got better and more accurate, allowing European engineers to rapidly advance technology and the study of physics, culminating in the development of the SI second in 1967 (amended 1997), expressed in terms of the physical properties of Caesium atoms and the speed of light in vacuum, both of which are universal constants.

Meanwhile in India, scientific progress in terms of definition and measurement of time stagnated. The existing units, though conceptually finer than the second, led to no technological or scientific advancement. In the colonial era the European units of measurement were introduced, and units of time in particular were imposed easily on the local population because of such things as the telegraph and railways. There was no new truti or new vipala, defined in terms of different universal constants.

So independent India adopted first the metric system and then the SI units at a national level, dropping the ancient and arcane units, and today we are technologically advanced as a result of it.

Yes, both the SI second and the civil second are of western origin. Yes the latter was imposed on us (and other people) through imperialism, at least in the beginning. And yes, the concept of the second has changed a lot before and may change further in the future. But for all that, it is also true that the SI second is objectively the best unit of measurement currently available to the entire human race.

To reject either the SI or the civil second now would set us back into the Iron Age. It is so essential to global life that not even the USA, which is notorious for rejecting the metric system, has any alternative but to accept them.

The same can be said not only for all scientific standards and terminology, but also for sociological standards and terminology including the concept of queerness and the recognition of queer people.

For it is absolute truth that queer people have existed since the dawn of humanity, and the question, when we read history or fiction, is not whether queer people actually existed in that time and place, but whether their presence was acknowledged in the record/narrative.

And the ancient and medieval people of what is now India did recognise the presence of queer people and identities, in their own way.

One of the foremost voices in raising awareness about ancient Indian attitudes towards queerness is mythologist Dr Devdutt Pattanaik, who publicly came out as queer himself in the wake of the historic judgement on 6th September this year.

However, in his analysis of historical and mythological records Dr Pattanaik shows a general disregard towards modern queer academic terminology. He argues that such terms…

1. Are of western origin and do not apply to Indian thought
2. Were imposed through cultural imperialism
3. Have varied over time

… and therefore best avoided. Even more curiously, when he does use these terms, he often plays fast and loose with them, with no regard to their currently agreed upon meaning. He makes strawmen out of modern queer academia, so that the ancient Indic ideas of queerness look better in comparison.

The truth ladies and gentlemen, is that the ancient Indians did not distinguish between anatomical sex, gender identity, gender presentation, gender roles and sexual roles. They did not recognise sexual and romantic desire as orientations separate from gender, but as a choice. Their narrative erased transgender men, asexual, demisexual and a staggering number of other queer identities. They simply lumped in the more visible sexual deviants and gender non-conforming people into a third gender and called it a day. Their concepts of queerness were meagre, unscientific, and exclusionary and their representation in history and mythology was scant, and often downright toxic.

To say that ancient India appreciated the variety of human experience and accepted all forms of love is to tell a bare-faced lie.

Hindus, Jains and Buddhists may have been world leaders in what passed for queer academia in 1200 CE, but today, they belong firmly in a museum, far away from the realm of public policy and queer activism.

The whole point of queer academia is to scientifically study the universal experiences of humanity in regards of sex, gender and desire, and to provide a common language so that queer people everywhere can collaborate seamlessly, and work for their empowerment, together.

And for better or for worse, the same West that once instituted the dreaded Section 377 in our laws, is at the forefront of queer academia today. The UK first decriminalised homosexual acts in 1967, way before even the USA, and we did not. And whose fault was that?

By implying that modern terms are unnecessary to describe ancient Indic ideas of queerness and aid Indian queer people today, Dr Pattanaik would have us reject this most precious gift — of queer solidarity, scientific rigour and a chance at a better future.

Further, although Dr Pattanaik has admitted on record that ancient Indic society was patriarchal and heteronormative, he has resorted to misrepresentation, force-fitting, exaggeration and utter lies to present ancient Indic philosophies and religious principles as being progressive and enlightened.

And this is dangerous, because as tumblr user apocalyptopia says:

The more misrepresenting and hyperbole we create and participate in, the more those who seek to subjugate us will have ammunition against us.

To demonstrate, take the case of Ersnt Haeckel and his famous doctored diagrams of animal embryos. His diagrams and postulate “ontology recapitulates phylogeny” have been taught as one of the proofs of evolution for over a century. Hell, it was mentioned in my own school textbook back in the early 2000’s. But evolution is real, and Haeckel’s postulate is not. (It was debunked way back in the 1870’s.)

Just as religious fundamentalists have used this piece of doctored evidence as an excuse to attack the credibility of all the scientific evidence that currently exists, leading directly or indirectly to the current state of anti-intellectualism that pervades many many countries, the dishonest analysis of Dr Pattanaik will be used as fodder to oppose the social acceptance of queer people into religion and society. They will claim it as cultural appropriation, and sometimes they will be right.

So once again I urge all my QUILTBAG people in India, including Dr Pattanaik, to be honest, and to not fall into the trap of this pervasive propaganda, especially under the current government, about ancient India being some kind of utopia for women and queer people. They say such things only to prevent rebellion and meaningful reform, and to take credit for such reforms that do occur.

This is Part I of a series of articles on the history of queerness in India.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Appendix I

एक बार, भारत के एक गाँव में कठोर सूखे की अवस्था थी। उस गाँव में एक मेहनती किसान रहा करता था। वर्षा के कोई आसार न देखते हुए भी वह अपने खेत में काम करता रहा। उसकी इस निरर्थक कार्यरतता को देख, भगवान शिव करुणावश हो कर उस गरीब को समझने धरती पे पधारे। वे बोले, “वत्स, तेरे जुताई का क्या लाभ है? यहाँ कोई वर्षा नहीं होगी। ऐसा मैंने स्वयं विनिश्चित किया है।”

किसान ने कहा, “हे प्रभु, आपने दुनिया बनाई। और आपने ही इसके पालन हेतु कर्म का विधान मनाया। अगर मैं अपने हिस्से का कर्म करूँ, और उस परम विधान का मान रखूँ, तो वही धर्म मेरी रक्षा ज़रूर करेगा। ऐसा मुझे यकीन है।”

महादेव क्रोधित होकर गरजे, “क्या तू मुझसे भी अधिक मेरे बनाए विधान को मानता है? इस प्रतियोगिता के परिणाम का तू स्वयं साक्षी बनेगा, और अपने इन तुच्छ विचारों को तूझे वापस लेना होगा।” ऐसा कहकर वे मेघराज भगवान इंद्र के समक्ष प्रकट हुये, और उन्हे उस क्षेत्र से सारे वृष्टिपूर्ण मेघ दूर रखने की आज्ञा दी।

“मैं आपके विधान के अधीन हूँ स्वामी,” इंद्र ने कहा, “उस देश के मेंढ़क अगर कंठनाद करे, तो मेरे पास अपने मेघ और वर्षा को मुक्त करने के अतिरिक्त कोई विकल्प नहीं होगा।” “निश्चिंत रहो वत्स, ऐसा नहीं होगा” कहके उमापति अन्तर्धान हो गए।

महादेव फिर अखिल भारतीय मेंढक श्रमिक संघ पहुँचे, जहा के मेंढकों ने उन्हे आश्वासित किया की वे नहीं टरटराएंगे — जब तक के कोई जुगनू उन्हे दिखाई न परे। क्यूंकी सृष्टि के सभी अंगों की तरह वे भी धर्मधीन थे, और अगर उन्हे एक भी जुगनू दिखा, तो वे भी टरटराने पर मजबूर थे।

अपने बनायी हुयी इस कार्यश्रृंखला की लंबाई से परेशान होकर, भगवान शंकर क्षेत्रीय जुगनू अड्डे मे पधारे और उन्हें समुचित रूप से मेंढको से दूर रहने की चेतावनी थी। सौभाग्य से उन्की बनाई हुई शोकश्रृंखला वही समाप्त हुई।

शिव-गौरी के चौसड़ के खेल मे, हम गोटी नहीं खिलाड़ी है।
करमजोग के जो है पुजारी, पूजे उन्हें त्रिपुरारी है ॥

परंतु संयोग से उसी शाम, उसी सूखाग्रस्त गांव में पर्याप्त मात्रा में बारिश हुई। उस घटना से अचंभित, प्रभु क्रोधित होकर इन्द्र के पास गए, जहा देवराज ने उनसे करुण विनती करते हुये सूचित किया के वे मेंढ़कों के शरारत के वजह से विवश थे। मेंढ़कों ने उल्टा जुगनुओं को दोषी ठहराया। लेकिन जुगनुओं ने सारे आरोपों का खंडन किया।

सर्वज्ञ होने के नाते, महादेव को पता था, कि जुगनू झूठ नहीं बोल रहे थे, और इसलिए वे मेंढकों के पास वापस गए। मेंढक संघ अपने बात पर धृढ़ रहे, और दूर एक जलती-बुझती हुई रोशनी कि ओर इशारा किया, जिसे वे जुगनू करार दे रहे थे। और सचमुच महादेव को खेतों के बीच ऐसी ही रोशनी दिखाई परी, जिसकी पढ़ताल करने वे स्वयं निकल परे।

वास्तव मे बह प्रकाश हमारे मेहनती किसान के मशाल से आ रहा था। जब वह अपने फसलों कि निराई करते हुये बार बार झुक रहा था, तब उसकी मशाल दूर से कभी दृष्ट और कभी अदृष्ट हो जाता। इसी वजह से दूर से देखने पर वह जुगनू प्रतीत हो रहा था। इस प्रकार अपने ही विधान से हर कर, भगवान आशुतोष अपने निवास को लौट गए।

यह कहानी मैंने बचपन मे पढ़ी थी। कहने को तो यह कहानी भोली सी है, लेकिन इसमे एक गंभीर सीख छुपी है। मनुष्य ने शतरंज के खेल को बनाया, और उस खेल के नियमों को अंकित किया। मनुष्य खुद अपने बनाए खेल मे खिलाड़ी भी हैं, और जब वह शतरंज मे प्यादों और बादशाहों के रूप में उतर जाता हैं, वह उस खेल के नियमों से बाध्य हो जाता हैं।

हम अपने लक्ष्यों को पूरा करने में अगर अपना पूरा योगदान दे, विधान और धर्म का पालन करे, जीवन के इस खेल में हमारी प्रगति को स्वयं विधाता भी नहीं रोक सकते है। इसी कर्मयोग को पालन करने से हमे ज्ञात होता है, कि हम विधि नहीं, स्वयं विधाता है।

The city of Takshashilà, in Emperor Janmajeya’s reign, was host to a university of great repute. The city had the distinction, among similar centres of learning, of also having one of the highest GDP’s, owing to a number of emerald and silver mines unearthed by the snake-worshipping tribes who once resided here.

Here lived, in the twenty eighth year of the regent’s career, a student of law, named Sandhàtà. He came from a clan of low-caste miners in the forests of northern Jhàrkhanda. At 14 he had displayed a very organized, very different approach towards mining and metallurgy, which was fortunately seen as a sign of a promising academic career by the tribal elders. He was send to Pàtaliputra that very year during the annual tribute payments to the King of Magadha, who in an act of rare benevolence recommended him to the Takshashilà University in Gandhàra.

Also among the university’s cosmopolitan students that year was a student of astronomy, known as Jeb. He belonged to a family of affluent Assyrian traders in Thinis, the capital of Upper Egypt, settled there for nearly eight generations now. His family had gained favour with the Pharaoh by forging critical marriage alliances with the nobility. And it was in exchange for a promise of such compliance that Jeb’s mother had allowed him to get to Takshashilà on a myrrh-trading ship.

And so it was fated that the two would meet in this charming city, during the picturesque festival of Sharada Navaràtri, which culminated in the beginning of the academic year. On the ninth day, the day of the feasting of sacrificial meat, in a stall selling pork buns, Sandhàtà accidentally dropped his hot bun on Jeb’s lap.

They spoke to each other in Sanskrit, a language foreign to both. Sandhàtà’s few, yet eloquent words drew a cascade of wit and pleasantries from Jeb, and soon he was drawn to the other as a river is drawn towards the ocean.

Their friendship blossomed over the year like lotuses bloom with the rising of the sun. Their days began with bunking the perfunctory prayer sessions and ended in walks in the city’s gardens or in games of dice. They talked of what shone in the heavens and what lay in the bowels of the earth, of the waves of the ocean and the vagaries of human nature. In time they became inseparable, and in the second year of their study, Jeb accompanied his friend to his abode in the South of Magadha.

It was here, during the tribal festival dedicated to the yakshinìs or fertility goddesses of the forests that Jeb‘s kohl-lined gray eyes met the anjanì-lined brown eyes of Mahua, the betrothed of Sandhàtà. Neither uttered a word, for there was nothing between them that words could give expression to. They rejoiced with Sandhàtà’s kin, as details of the wedding were planned. And in this bittersweet disposition, Jeb left with his friend.

The months rolled by in Takshashilà just as happily as before and soon it was Vijayàdashami again. But ill winds blew in the news of the death of the Kuru emperor, and the King of Magadha showing his true colours withdrew all scholarships he had issued – including Sandhàtà’s. Needless to say, Jeb came to the rescue.

They completed their studies without further event. Both being fine youths of 21 summers now, it was time for Jeb to return to Egypt, where he was to continue the family tradition of marrying the only daughters of powerful matriarchs, and for Sandhàtà to pursue a career in the court of Pàtaliputra. But the gods had other ideas.

One of Jeb’s elder sisters’ fleets had been caught smuggling olive oil from Cyprus, and in an act of extreme xenophobia, the whole family was sentenced to exile in Muab. News of this scandal reached them in Gandhàra, and Sandhàtà who was now a Doctor of Law boldly decided to cross the seas and accompany his friend to Egypt.

In Thinis his credentials were accepted by the Pharaoh Narmer, then reigning for the twenty first year, and as counsel to Jeb’s family he was able to restrict the sentence to just his elder sister and her children. Impressed by Sandhàtà’s erudition, an influential scribe offered his daughter Renizneb’s hand in marriage to him, with the promise of establishing him in the Thinite court. Silenced by gratitude, Jeb witnessed his friend’s fall to temptation.

Thus, when Sandhàtà returned home to bid his tribe farewell and be married a second time, he was accompanied by his new bride and old friend. Seeing this state of affairs, Mahua refused the alliance and in defiance of Sandhàtà boldly asked for Jeb’s hand in public. Jeb was momentarily shocked, but was encouraged by his friend to accept, which strengthened his own will. And so our newly-wed heroes proceeded to Egypt, never to return.

Mahua and Jeb’s marriage, as was inevitable, was frowned upon by his family, who went to the extreme step of disowning him when he refused to divorce her. Luckily, Jeb was offered the position of The Master of the Temple Scribes in the holy town of Sais in Lower Egypt, which he gladly accepted.

Two years passed thus, as Sandhàtà’s influence grew in the capital, and Jeb’s repute rose among the priests and scholars. The political divide between Upper and Lower Egypt was scarcely strong enough to keep the friends apart, as they frequently sailed up and down the river. Even the times were changing in conspiracy with their friendship. Young Menes, son of Narmer and heir to the throne of Thinis was eyeing the conquest of the Nile Delta, to fulfil an ambitious plan of uniting the two kingdoms.

In the twenty third year of the Pharaoh’s reign, Mahua and Jeb were blessed with a daughter. An overjoyed Sandhàtà immediately sailed downriver to see his friend. Renizneb, who was still childless and green-eyed, hatched an evil plot as she invited Jeb and his family to Thinis.

Renizneb’s family was a key supporter of Menes’ design and her uncle a prominent part of its execution. She plotted with him to have all four of them caught in the revolts in the river port of Ankh Tawy en route to Thinis. The ingenuity lay in the fact that she and her husband would easily slip through due to her allegiances, and Mahua & her child would be put to death.

Well things went wrong, for her, as her uncle was slain and the revolt quelled by the forces of the Lower Kingdom. Sandhàtà was found guilty of conspiring with her uncle and sentenced. Jeb, in spite of being in danger of condemnation himself, pled on his behalf. His pleas fell on deaf ears. However Sandhàtà could convince them that Renizneb was innocent and was given time to escort her back to Thinis, during which Jeb would stand as his bail & proxy.

Once in Thinis, Renizneb knew it would be a matter of time before Menes’ forces turned the tables and Jeb would become more than a proxy. She delayed her husband long enough, and soon he was out of danger. Fortunately he realized her scheme in that duration, and fled to Jeb’s aid after divorcing her.

He reached Ankh Tawy just as Jeb was about to be thrown to the crocodiles, and narrated his tale. Astonished by his devotion to his friend, the newly crowned Menes pardoned both of them and established them in the new capital of united Egypt.

Sandhàtà married again eventually, and left the bar for good. He went on to become a polymath – architect, physician, scribe and High Priest, and served four Pharaohs – including the Pharaoh Djoser, under whose reign he was deified as Imhotep (Egyptian for Sandhàtà). Egyptologists today search for his tomb in vain, because he was cremated in accordance with his native religion.

Jeb wrote several texts on astronomy and mathematics, and was most famous in his ancestors’ land of Assyria, where his works were published under the name of Mithra (Sanskrit for Jeb), and was also deified later by the followers of Zoroaster.

Though the chroniclers of their time have rendered these celebrated names disparate, their tale is whispered still in the cells of the university ruins and the harbours along the Nile. The sands around Thinis and sacred Santhal groves narrate till this day, this story of true fraternity that was not established by ties of blood. This tale I dedicate to my friends everywhere, with a promise of sorority, just as true.

Originally published at pokans.blogspot.in on October 11, 2014.