Amid ongoing initiatives to bring transgender persons into India’s social and economic mainstream, a recent incident in Madhya Pradesh's Indore has yet again exposed the complex realities of life inside the city’s kinnar deras and the fierce power struggles within them.
It began with panic and disbelief. On 15 October, 24 members of a transgender faction led by Guru Sapna Haji in Indore's Nandlalpura area consumed phenyl in an attempt to end their lives. While initial reports dubbed the incident as "bizarre", claiming it to be the result of two feuding factions, the reality on ground was different.
The mass suicide attempt came in the wake of alleged harassment by Sapna, the nayak (head) of the Nandlalpura kinnar dera, and her supporters. Soon after news of the incident spread, Sapna was arrested, while her alleged associate, Raja Hashmi, went missing. Hashmi, a dholak (percussion instrument) accompanist, was accused by local members of being the "mastermind" harassing kinnars of the dera and extorting money from them.
Indore Police Commissioner Santosh Singh confirmed that Sapna was arrested on charges of extortion and criminal intimidation 16 October even as Hashmi is still absconding.
Though all the 24 transgender persons survived the poisoning, they remained unavailable for comment. Meanwhile, what should have been a moment of reflection on the attempted suicides and the underlying issues of the community, turned instead into a bitter feud that exposed deep fissures within transgender politics, debates over reform, and the unmistakable arrival of communal Hindutva rhetoric in the political expression of the erstwhile predominantly secular community.
A Battle for the 'Gaddi': Rivalries, Accusations, Counterclaims
The controversy might have remained confined to the dera, but Indore’s charged political atmosphere added fuel to the fire.
Even as the drama unfolded in Nandlalpura, Laxmi Narayan Tripathi, one of India’s most prominent transgender figures in the country, announced on Instagram that she was now the gaddi pati—the spiritual head—of the Nandlalpura dera. She soon arrived in Indore where she engaged with the media.
Tripathi is widely known for being the first transgender person to represent the Asia-Pacific region at the United Nations in 2008, and for her activism during the 2014 Supreme Court judgment that officially recognised a third gender. She also serves as Acharya Mahamandleshwar of the Kinnar Akhada, a religious order of transgender persons within the Hindu tradition.
When The Quint asked why she chose to install herself as gaddi pati in Indore, Tripathi responded, “I did not. My community wanted me there to protect them from harassment by Sapna and her associates.”
She alleged that Hashmi had “siphoned off huge property from Nandlalpura to Jabalpur,” adding that such acts “are not allowed in the kinnar tradition.”
However, not everyone welcomed Tripathi’s rise.
Hemangi Sakhi, the first kinnar Shankaracharya of the Vaishnav Kinnar Akhara and one of Tripathi’s fiercest rivals, accused her of seeking control over Indore’s lucrative kinnar property. Hemangi claimed that Tripathi’s sudden appearance in the city was an attempt to “grab the gaddi".
“She (Tripathi) announced taking over as head of Sapna's faction on Instagram the very day the kinnars drank phenyl. She is known for creating rifts among kinnars,” Hemangi told The Quint.
She further alleged that Tripathi had recently become a chela (disciple) of Sapna's aide and disciple, Guru Payal Haji, to strengthen her claim to the proverbial throne.
For the past few years, Guru Payal Haji and Guru Sapna Haji were fighting for supremacy within the dera.
Communalisation of Trans Politics
In response, Tripathi posted a video, warning Hemangi to stay out of Indore’s affairs.
“What do you have to do with Indore?” Tripathi asked. Alleging Hemangi of accepting money from Sapna's lawyer Sachin Sonker, Tripathi said,
“Why are you singing paeans for Sapna after taking Rs 5 lakh from Sachin Sonker? 24 kinnars drank poison because of Sapna’s harassment. Hemangi, you are equally involved in the Indore episode.”
Meanwhile, Payal has accused her critics of engaging in dirty communal rhetoric. "Every time there is a new accusation against me... that I am Naeem Ansari, and involved in hawala. If nothing works, they do Hindu-Muslim politics and accusations like hawala to activate the police," Payal told The Quint.
Indeed, in a video released online, Hemangi went as far as to call Tripathi “Mullah Laxmi".
Meanwhile, Sapna’s advocate, Sachin Sonker, openly proclaimed, “I am representing Sapna because I work for Hindutva, and Sapna is a Sanatani kinnar. But Sapna's rival group, now led by Tripathi, termed her 'Muslim'."
Denying Tripathi’s allegations of bribery, Sonker countered, "All charges against her are false", adding that Tripathi was “patronising Muslim kinnars.”
The exchange marked a new low in what activists describe as the “internal politics of representation”—a tug of war for power and property. The statements made by all parties also revealed that saffron politics—once distant from transgender identity—had entered the kinnar sphere.
Observers note that more kinnars have begun adopting religious titles such as Mahamandleshwar in recent years. The issue even surfaced during the recent Maha Kumbh, where Tripathi and Hemangi clashed publicly. In Indore's case, both the groups accused each other of being Muslim.
Apathy vs Reform: Trans Boards Remain Missing
Behind these interpersonal rivalries lies a deeper institutional failure.
For years, Indore’s kinnars have lived with a double reputation—celebrated at weddings and childbirths for their blessings, yet often accused of coercive money collection. Many residents complain of misbehaviour when refusing to pay.
Commissioner Singh told The Quint that a delegation of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) leaders met him to express concern about the “extortion racket” allegedly run by some kinnars. He said they also wanted investigations into the antecedents of kinnars.
“People want kinnar demands to be curbed and standardised for occasions like childbirth and marriages.”Santosh Singh, Police Commissioner, Indore
Activists, however, argue that such practices arise from systemic exclusion owing to institutional apathy—and not inherent criminality.
Nearly a decade has passed since the Supreme Court’s landmark National Legal Service Authority (NALSA) vs Union of India (2014) judgment, which directed all states to form transgender welfare boards to ensure representation in policymaking. Yet, Madhya Pradesh has still not constituted such a board. Without it, there is no official mechanism to address discrimination, livelihood challenges, or healthcare needs of the transgender community.
“We are left to fend for ourselves—between godmen, politicians, and police stations,” an Indore-based trans rights activist said. Though Indore does have a district level welfare board with the district collector as its head, the body is almost defunct.
In the absence of state support, the deras—traditional communes led by gurus—remain the only organised spaces for transgender persons.
Historically, these deras provided safety and belonging for those cast out by families and society. Each follows its own rituals and codes, often with rigid hierarchies. But with new visibility, state schemes, and external funding, many deras have become centers of power and wealth, turning them into fertile ground for rivalry.
Parallel to these traditional spaces, NGOs and private shelter homes have tried to promote education, skill training, and rehabilitation. Yet, their leaders often feel powerless.
“Whenever we talk about reform, traditional deras accuse us of killing culture,” an NGO director told The Quint upon request of anonymity. “But without reform, our people remain trapped between superstition and survival.”
The growing saffronisation of kinnar politics has deepened this crisis. For some transgender leaders, aligning with mainstream religious identity offers legitimacy and safety. For others, it risks turning an already marginalised community into a political instrument.
The community that once fought for liberation from gender binaries now finds itself caught in new ones—Hindu vs Muslim, reformist vs traditionalist, and Tripathi vs Hemangi.
Amid this web of power, the voices of ordinary kinnars—the ones who consumed phenyl in despair—have faded. Their act, perhaps more protest than surrender, reflects a collective exhaustion with neglect and manipulation. Until welfare mechanisms replace rivalry, and genuine leadership replaces theatrics, tragedies like Indore will keep repeating—reminding India that the fight for dignity is far from over.
(The author is a senior journalist based in Madhya Pradesh.)