Jottings from a trans man’s life

Hindustani musician and gender activist Rumi Harish is the first trans man in Karnataka, and perhaps in India, to document his life in a book

Rumi Harish, earlier known as Sumathi Murthy, underwent a sex reassignment surgery in 2020, and has documented the journey of his life in a just-launched book titled ‘Jaunpuri Khayaal’.

Narrated by Dadapeer Jayman, the book covers Rumi’s love-hate relationship with his sculptor-mother Kanaka Murthy, his rise as an accomplished singer of the Agra gharana, and his transformation as a trans man and activist.

At a poetry conference, when Dadapeer met Rumi, he mooted the idea of a book. Rumi was initially unconvinced she had a story to tell, but later agreed.

In conversation with Metrolife, Rumi reveals more:

In the book, you say autobiographies present a victimhood narrative, and so you didn’t want to write about yourself. What prompted your change of heart?

We are never alone in our journey. There is always someone with us, but we often forget to acknowledge them. I come from a privileged background and I believed that I didn’t have a story. But Dadapeer and my friend Sunil convinced me to share my story. The author spoke about how it would not be written as a solo journey, and it would be about me, my friends, and what I had done in life together with everybody.

Looking back, what are your happiest and most painful moments?

Being lonely and not being able to convey my thoughts to anybody was painful. When I sing, when I write, and when I win a case in crisis intervention, I feel elated. When we manage to make those opposed to something understand it logically, I feel happy.

The book talks about those who have inspired you and shaped your life…

There are so many. My music teacher Pandit Ramarao Naik, and Famila, who I was working with. She taught me about sexuality, politics, love, politics of love. Others include Sunil, who I have worked with for 22 years, and a musician-friend who said, when I shared my distress at not being able to sing like I used to before my sex reassignment surgery, that I shouldn’t force myself, and that this was a good opportunity to look at music with all my limitations. Dalit rights activist and writer Du Saraswathi, a close friend, also nurtures a lot of people.

How did Sumathi become Rumi Harish? What lessons have you learnt from your sex reassignment surgery?

There was no Sumathi at all. I was pushed to live as her for almost 40 years as I did not have the strength to assert the Rumi inside me. I could rebel as a woman but I could never assert myself as a man, and it took time for me to even tell my parents. I slowly realised that I could work with music, human rights and social justice, write, and do so much more. It was when I was around 40 that I realised I didn’t want to live in a body that wasn’t me.

I started wearing male attire and gave myself a new name. It was when Sunil was asking about his surgery that I realised I could also get one. I followed a regimen, reduced weight, and went through the surgery process.

What advice would you give those in your circumstances?

Money is a factor for surgery, but there are people who can help raise it. My advice to anyone who wants to get the surgery done is to be under the supervision of a good endocrinologist. Keep a check on your health, and don’t waste time.

As a vocalist with decades of training, has the change of voice and timbre altered your perspective on music?

I have been asking several musicians about voice transition. Questions like how to adjust, and how to practise, were mostly unanswered. However, inputs I received from musicians like T M Krishna, Samarth Nagarkar, Shubha Mudgal, and M D Pallavi, helped. It has been a tough journey — to lose my old voice and its dexterity. The transition of voice had to be placed on record and so I wrote a play. I went into a deep depression, as my voice didn’t sound like mine anymore. In 2020, I realised I couldn’t sing like I used to earlier. Whatever I sang didn’t touch me, and music is nothing if it doesn’t touch me. I took a break from singing and then practised off and on. I almost gave up on music, but now, I am okay if my voice breaks while singing. I have started filtering out unnecessary ornamentation now.

Have you left out details that could become a subsequent book?

Lots. Some things can be told to people and some are private, including love affairs. If I wanted to speak about my love affairs with some ragas, would people even understand? I am taking notes about my sexuality within myself, in terms of various lovers, human and non-human, voices and ragas. I am not sure if there will be a second book, but I might write in a different form.

(‘Jaunpuri Khayaal’, Rs 165, Aharnishi Prakashana, Ballari)

Why it is significant: Dadapeer

Kannada hasworks on trans women and gay and lesbian relationships, but nothing on the life of a transman, and that is why Rumi Harish’s book is pioneering, says Dadapeer.
The title, ‘JaunpuriKhayaal’, is a hat tip to Pandit Mallikarjun Mansur and his rendering of the morning raga.“Rumi takes shelter in it,” says Dadapeer. The book was discussed avidly at the Mysuru Literature Festival in early July.

First in India?

Sources in the publishing industry say ‘JaunpuriKhayaal’ could be the first autobiographical account of a transman in India. Books such as Nandini Krishnan’s ‘InvisibleMen’, about female-to-male trans persons, have been published, but Rumi Harish’s book could be the first autobiographical account about a transman, they said.