My Kolkata: Tell us a bit about growing up in Kharagpur…
Patruni Chidananda Sastry: I come from a third-generation south Indian family that was based in Kharagpur, and did my schooling from IIT’s Kendriya Vidyalaya. I grew up with both the cultures from south India and Bengal. Even in school, there was no division between male and female students in the classrooms, which is contrary to what happens in Andhra Pradesh and Telangana. This really helped me be myself. But while people in Bengal believe in open conversations, Kharagpur was a town and there was definitely a lack of knowledge about the LGBTQIA+ community. My medium of expression started when I began learning Indian classical dance from the age of five. For the first five years, I would train in Kolkata. I grew up as a very expressive child and my parents never asked me to do certain things because I was assigned the male gender at birth.
What kind of role did dance play in your early perception of gender?
Dance gave me a space to explore and express. It gave me the opportunity to dress up and experiment with my moods. I could shift my gender between male and female, and even create my own idea of gender. On stage, nobody could tell that I looked feminine or masculine. In Indian dance lingo, there is a concept called Natyadharmi, where until you are on stage, everything is right. However, once you step down, society asks questions. I found this power in how the stage is boundless and limitless, and dance allowed me to be myself from a very young age. It gave me a safe space.
How did you devise the dance form of Indian expressionism?
Indian classical dance has been rigidly associated with religion due to mythological texts for centuries. I felt that dance needed an individualistic identity, which would address real issues beyond mythological stories. After a few years of dancing, I was bored of the same themes being performed and it wasn’t contributing anything to my soul. I didn’t want to learn Bharatnatyam for 20 years and then present what was already being presented. That’s when I learnt a Japanese dance form called Butoh, which is a derivative from German Expressionism. Butoh talks about diseases and deaths, and I realised that I wanted to create my own dance form to tell stories which are really important. This is when I started cultivating Indian expressionism, where I use the vocabulary of Indian Classical dance to showcase realistic problems like Section 377, menstrual health, mental health and the transgender bill. The point of Indian expressionism is to push the conversation forward.
How did you get into drag?
I first saw drag at Bangalore Pride, where Rimi Heart was performing. But my main initiation to drag culture happened through Grindr, when my date showed me videos of RuPaul’s Drag Race. I only considered doing drag myself when I came to Hyderabad. Interestingly, the thought came with the desire to bring drag culture to the city since it didn’t have any, and not as a means of self expression. My friends also pushed me to try it. I had learnt Kuchipudi, where there is a similar concept of men dressing up as women, so I decided to incorporate my learnings from it too.
Besides Bharatnatyam, Sastry is also a Kuchipudi dancer
I started doing a regular feminised version of drag in 2019, but then I had the desire to incorporate Butoh and other dance styles into it too. While researching, I came across this concept called, ‘Tranimal Drag’, where you put trash on your body and create art — unlike the norm which seeks to show beauty, Tranimal drag is anti-beauty. Nobody else was doing it, so I chose it as my niche. Another motivator to choose it was the budget, as this form is much more economic than others because there’s no investment in shoes or dresses. Initially, it was very tough and I couldn’t get venues to perform at, so I ended up walking on the road in drag. Because I was a dancer, people would call me for regular dance shows, and I would turn up in drag! The central focus was to push this idea.
Dragvanti came as an extension of this during COVID. Firstly, I was not aware about the things happening in drag during the pandemic, and secondly, a lot of drag artistes were sitting idle. We thought, why not bring everybody together? The core idea was that if we want to campaign for drag artistes’ rights or be considered for National Awards, we need to know our total number. Dragvanti started as a city and state-wise list of all drag artistes in India, and we developed other aspects around it like the drag library, interviews with artistes, and even conferences to understand the art form. Once COVID stopped being a threat, Dragvanti became a space for us to curate events.
What are some of the biggest challenges you faced as a drag artiste?
The first is the conflict between my bisexuality and my drag. When I married a heterosexual woman, the community accused me of being a straight person who was hoarding the narrative like Maddy Morphosis. There were times when I was removed from events at the last minute when they found that I was married. But Rajeshwari (Patruni’s partner) stood by me and was my anchor. Another big challenge was to get access to space. In Hyderabad, venues initially weren’t willing to host us because drag is always seen as adult entertainment. I had to ensure that I wasn’t presenting something sexual or sassy, even though my name is Sas (chuckles). I have barged into heterosexual events and even done shows at events like the Hyderabad Literary Festival, where I would blend my drag according to the theme and present it to all genders and ages. It was very hard at the start, but we now have a dedicated pub to perform at. But the most challenging part is the politics, in both the US and in India. A trans-non-binary person doing drag is often seen as being on the edge of falling out. However, things have gotten better though. I was recently called for a public show at a metro station, and a child spontaneously joined me. The video of us singing and dancing together went viral on social media and I got many messages from parents, who felt encouraged to help their children access drag. Whenever I perform, I try to use the space to articulate my thoughts and tell people why drag is the need of the hour. We are trying to tell people about inclusion through it, especially with corporations opening up on Pride Month. Honestly, I also want to do performances without this weight, purely out of free will. But that will take some time.
Given the challenges you faced in your own marriage, what’s your view of the same-sex marriage battle that is on in courts?
We need to understand that it's not just about lesbian women or gay men getting married. It is about transmen, who want to marry transwomen or non-binary people who wish to share their love. Under the current law, many different permutations and combinations within an entire community are suffering, it’s not just one label. People often say that same sex marriages aren’t conducive to rituals, but rituals have been created by human beings. Every marriage is the same. The Court often asks, why should you get married if you don’t want to procreate but even Krishna’s marriages were not for procreation. I will prove this stereotype wrong by raising a child who is not homophobic or bigoted. Now is the time to fight for this right, because if my child grows up queer and wants to get married, they shouldn’t have to fight for the number of years I had to. We actually need a law where no relative can give unsolicited advice about having a child!
Speaking of children, congratulations on recently becoming a parent. How has been the journey to parenthood for you?
When Rajeshwari and I started discussing parenthood, I was very uncomfortable about planning and we decided to go with the flow. In the second year of our marriage, she got pregnant. I was very happy, but also a bit scared. I had been bullied in school, and I kept thinking that if my child’s schoolmates saw me, they might start bullying my child too. I didn’t want my children to go through my trauma and I hadn’t seen any queer parents at the time. But my friend made me realise that we can’t hold everything in your hands, and we learn as we move forward. I started listening to stories of queer parents raising kids, like Gauri Sawantji, and realised that I wasn’t alone. I was scared till the baby was born, but after birth, this fear automatically became a path for me to deal with things. Currently, my partner is raising the child with her parents in her hometown, while I am in Hyderabad for work, so there is a lot of loneliness. But, I’m using drag every day as a distraction, and this has been a superpower for me, where I switch it on and the character takes over. It is a very euphoric feeling. My partner agrees, because half the time I use her saris without her knowledge (laughs). When I’m wearing her saree, I feel like she is with me.
How did you devise the dance form of Indian expressionism?
Indian classical dance has been rigidly associated with religion due to mythological texts for centuries. I felt that dance needed an individualistic identity, which would address real issues beyond mythological stories. After a few years of dancing, I was bored of the same themes being performed and it wasn’t contributing anything to my soul. I didn’t want to learn Bharatnatyam for 20 years and then present what was already being presented. That’s when I learnt a Japanese dance form called Butoh, which is a derivative from German Expressionism. Butoh talks about diseases and deaths, and I realised that I wanted to create my own dance form to tell stories which are really important. This is when I started cultivating Indian expressionism, where I use the vocabulary of Indian Classical dance to showcase realistic problems like Section 377, menstrual health, mental health and the transgender bill. The point of Indian expressionism is to push the conversation forward.
How did you get into drag?
I first saw drag at Bangalore Pride, where Rimi Heart was performing. But my main initiation to drag culture happened through Grindr, when my date showed me videos of RuPaul’s Drag Race. I only considered doing drag myself when I came to Hyderabad. Interestingly, the thought came with the desire to bring drag culture to the city since it didn’t have any, and not as a means of self expression. My friends also pushed me to try it. I had learnt Kuchipudi, where there is a similar concept of men dressing up as women, so I decided to incorporate my learnings from it too.
I started doing a regular feminised version of drag in 2019, but then I had the desire to incorporate Butoh and other dance styles into it too. While researching, I came across this concept called, ‘Tranimal Drag’, where you put trash on your body and create art — unlike the norm which seeks to show beauty, Tranimal drag is anti-beauty. Nobody else was doing it, so I chose it as my niche. Another motivator to choose it was the budget, as this form is much more economic than others because there’s no investment in shoes or dresses. Initially, it was very tough and I couldn’t get venues to perform at, so I ended up walking on the road in drag. Because I was a dancer, people would call me for regular dance shows, and I would turn up in drag! The central focus was to push this idea.
Dragvanti came as an extension of this during COVID. Firstly, I was not aware about the things happening in drag during the pandemic, and secondly, a lot of drag artistes were sitting idle. We thought, why not bring everybody together? The core idea was that if we want to campaign for drag artistes’ rights or be considered for National Awards, we need to know our total number. Dragvanti started as a city and state-wise list of all drag artistes in India, and we developed other aspects around it like the drag library, interviews with artistes, and even conferences to understand the art form. Once COVID stopped being a threat, Dragvanti became a space for us to curate events.
What are some of the biggest challenges you faced as a drag artiste?
The first is the conflict between my bisexuality and my drag. When I married a heterosexual woman, the community accused me of being a straight person who was hoarding the narrative like Maddy Morphosis. There were times when I was removed from events at the last minute when they found that I was married. But Rajeshwari (Patruni’s partner) stood by me and was my anchor. Another big challenge was to get access to space. In Hyderabad, venues initially weren’t willing to host us because drag is always seen as adult entertainment. I had to ensure that I wasn’t presenting something sexual or sassy, even though my name is Sas (chuckles). I have barged into heterosexual events and even done shows at events like the Hyderabad Literary Festival, where I would blend my drag according to the theme and present it to all genders and ages. It was very hard at the start, but we now have a dedicated pub to perform at. But the most challenging part is the politics, in both the US and in India. A trans-non-binary person doing drag is often seen as being on the edge of falling out.
However, things have gotten better though. I was recently called for a public show at a metro station, and a child spontaneously joined me. The video of us singing and dancing together went viral on social media and I got many messages from parents, who felt encouraged to help their children access drag. Whenever I perform, I try to use the space to articulate my thoughts and tell people why drag is the need of the hour. We are trying to tell people about inclusion through it, especially with corporations opening up on Pride Month. Honestly, I also want to do performances without this weight, purely out of free will. But that will take some time.
Given the challenges you faced in your own marriage, what’s your view of the same-sex marriage battle that is on in courts?
We need to understand that it's not just about lesbian women or gay men getting married. It is about transmen, who want to marry transwomen or non-binary people who wish to share their love. Under the current law, many different permutations and combinations within an entire community are suffering, it’s not just one label. People often say that same sex marriages aren’t conducive to rituals, but rituals have been created by human beings. Every marriage is the same. The Court often asks, why should you get married if you don’t want to procreate but even Krishna’s marriages were not for procreation. I will prove this stereotype wrong by raising a child who is not homophobic or bigoted. Now is the time to fight for this right, because if my child grows up queer and wants to get married, they shouldn’t have to fight for the number of years I had to. We actually need a law where no relative can give unsolicited advice about having a child!
Speaking of children, congratulations on recently becoming a parent. How has been the journey to parenthood for you?
When Rajeshwari and I started discussing parenthood, I was very uncomfortable about planning and we decided to go with the flow. In the second year of our marriage, she got pregnant. I was very happy, but also a bit scared. I had been bullied in school, and I kept thinking that if my child’s schoolmates saw me, they might start bullying my child too. I didn’t want my children to go through my trauma and I hadn’t seen any queer parents at the time. But my friend made me realise that we can’t hold everything in your hands, and we learn as we move forward. I started listening to stories of queer parents raising kids, like Gauri Sawantji, and realised that I wasn’t alone. I was scared till the baby was born, but after birth, this fear automatically became a path for me to deal with things. Currently, my partner is raising the child with her parents in her hometown, while I am in Hyderabad for work, so there is a lot of loneliness. But, I’m using drag every day as a distraction, and this has been a superpower for me, where I switch it on and the character takes over. It is a very euphoric feeling. My partner agrees, because half the time I use her saris without her knowledge (laughs). When I’m wearing her saree, I feel like she is with me.
Drawing from your own experiences of familial support, how can we all be better allies? How has the Absolut Ally campaign changed things?
I came out to my parents when I was 21. They didn’t understand the word, ‘pansexual’ but saw where I was coming from, and asked me questions to help understand it better. When I told my partner, she did some research by herself and accepted me for who I am. I’m lucky to have an open and communicative family, but not everyone does. As an ally, I don’t want you to assume that my story is sad, because it isn’t. I want you to perceive it normally. My bisexuality is as normal as someone’s heterosexuality.
The Absolut Ally campaign was a big change. Externally, Rajeshwari and I look like a heterosexual couple and no one outside knew about my bisexuality. I remember when this campaign went live, a neighbour who would taunt me for being the only male dancer in Kharagpur rushed to my mom, exclaiming that she had seen me on TV. She also became curious and started learning about bisexuality. Similarly, my landlord became warmer after he saw the campaign. Campaigns like this help in opening up conversations in small towns and cities. I don't have to explain my sexuality to everyone anymore, and it eases my trauma. For a long time, we never had narratives of bisexuality in the forefront. Being a part of this campaign helped me take this narrative to the grassroot level and gave me a space to be my authentic self.
