An Evening that Spoke for the “Third World”

The gathering was not large. Yet it was the kind of gathering where numbers quietly surrender to thought.

On that evening, we had assembled to release a collection of poems titled तीसरा जहाँ, written by Savita Jain ‘Savi’, herself a retired senior government functionary. The book explores the lives, pains, hopes, aspirations and quiet resilience of the transgender community.

The attendance was modest, but the quality of engagement made the evening intellectually rich and emotionally resonant. Conversations were thoughtful, questions probing, and reflections sincere. As the Chief Guest entrusted with the honour of releasing the book, I felt less celebratory than humbled.

For the subject we were discussing inevitably turns the mirror upon ourselves.

The transgender community—often referred to in India as the kinner or hijra community—represents one of the most neglected and misunderstood segments of society. Their struggles reveal not only the hardships they face, but also the deep inadequacies of our own collective conscience. The indifference with which society has treated them is not merely unfortunate; it is, in many ways, deeply unsettling.

During the address, I found myself reflecting aloud: We were not merely releasing a book. We were, in some measure, attempting to give voice to a silence that society has long avoided hearing.

The title itself carries symbolic depth. तीसरा जहाँ—“The Third World”—is not simply a reference to gender identity. It evokes an entire realm of experience that exists within society yet remains outside its emotional embrace. The title is therefore more than a name; it is a declaration and a hope—an invitation for society to recognise a world that has always existed among us but has long awaited acknowledgement in our hearts.

What makes this work especially meaningful is the sensibility of its author. For a writer to choose such a subject requires more than literary curiosity; it demands moral imagination. In these poems, Savita Jain Savi writes not as a distant observer but as someone who has listened deeply to another human experience. Compassion is present in these verses, but more than compassion, there is empathy—the rare ability to feel another’s wounds without appropriating them. The poems seek not merely to describe a community but to restore its human voice.

Another discussant, Ila Singh, herself known for her creative writing, spoke thoughtfully about society’s persistent tendency to misunderstand and marginalise this community. Literature, she suggested, has the power to awaken social awareness where indifference has long prevailed.

The poetry in this volume also stands within a growing literary tradition that seeks to articulate transgender experience. Works such as ‘The Truth About Me’ by A Revathi and ‘Me Hijra, Me Laxmi’ by Laxmi Narayan Tripathi have earlier brought these voices into public consciousness. Internationally too, ‘Redefining Realness’ by Janet Mock has illuminated the struggle for dignity and identity. तीसरा जहाँ adds a distinct poetic chapter to this evolving conversation.

Yet literature alone cannot convey the full intensity of lived experience. The most powerful moment of the evening came when Swati Barua spoke.

Now a practising advocate and an articulate voice within the transgender rights movement, she shared her life story with remarkable candour. Born male and later undergoing gender affirmation surgery to live as a woman, she spoke of a childhood shaped by confusion, isolation and misunderstanding.

School was often unkind. Society could be harsher still.

Families, even when loving, struggled to comprehend what they had never been taught to recognise. Classrooms sometimes became arenas of quiet humiliation. Professional spaces carried their own barriers of prejudice.

Yet her story was not one of despair. It was the story of resilience.

Through determination and courage, she carved her own path—pursuing education, entering the legal profession, and emerging as a voice for the rights and dignity of transgender persons. Listening to her, one realised that the struggle for dignity is fought not only in legislatures or courts, but also in the everyday act of living authentically.

India has indeed begun to take important steps. In the landmark judgment of National Legal Services Authority v. Union of India, transgender persons were recognised as a “third gender.” This was followed by the Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act, which seeks to prevent discrimination in education, employment and public life.

These are significant milestones. Yet laws alone cannot transform social attitudes. The true moral measure of a society lies in how it treats its most vulnerable members, which demands a change in mind set.

In many ways, India’s civilisational memory reminds us that gender diversity is not alien to our culture. The epic Mahabharata recounts the story of Shikhandi, whose presence becomes decisive in the fall of Bhishma, and the episode of Brihannala, when the warrior Arjuna spends a year living in a transformed identity.

History offers other reminders as well. During the courts of the Akbar and other Mughal rulers, members of the hijra community often held positions of trust and responsibility. They served as guardians of royal households, administrators of courtly spaces, and at times confidential advisers. Their proximity to power reflected the respect and reliability attributed to them in those times.

Across centuries, the kinner community has also occupied a symbolic place in social rituals, offering blessings at births and weddings. The paradox is striking, those invited to bless life’s most auspicious moments have themselves often been denied dignity in everyday life.

Perhaps that is why literature matters.

Policies may alter institutions. Laws may define rights. But literature has the rare ability to awaken the human conscience.

And that, ultimately, is what this evening seemed to represent—not merely the release of a book, but the beginning of a deeper conversation.

If the ancient ideal “आत्मवत् सर्वभूतेषु”—seeing oneself in every living being—is to carry meaning, then there can be no “third world” within humanity.

There is only one human world.

And every time a voice long ignored is finally heard, that world becomes a little more just, a little more humane—and a little more worthy of the civilisation we claim to be.