MANGALURU: In the narrow, sunlit lanes of Deralakatte, the buzz of autorickshaws blends with the chatter of markets and college students. Among the many autos that crisscross the area, a few bear a distinct sticker: ‘Free rides for expectant mothers and elderly trans persons’.
These autos are more than just a mode of transport. They are symbols of quiet rebellion, compassion, and a relentless pursuit of dignity — driven by a transwoman named Ani Mangalore.
Born and raised in Hiredinni camp of Raichur district’s Maski taluk, Ani’s story is neither linear nor simple. Like many from marginalized communities, her life has been a series of battles — most of them fought alone, with society on the opposing side.
Ani was assigned male at birth, but from a very young age, she knew she was different. She had what she calls “female instincts”, a deeply felt identity that clashed with how others perceived her. “I dressed like a boy, but inside I never felt like one,” she recalls.
Despite the internal conflict, Ani powered through her early life with an impressive academic record. She scored 79% in her Bachelor of Arts degree and earned a free B.Ed seat at the Government College of Teacher Education in Mangaluru, a feat many in her village considered rare and commendable.
Gender transition and rejection
But halfway through her B.Ed course, Ani’s personal evolution became more visible. She began her gender transition — physically, emotionally and socially. With it came a tidal wave of judgment and isolation. “I couldn’t focus on my studies anymore. I felt like I was being watched, mocked, questioned every day. The stares, the whispers, it became too much,” she says.
What followed was a period of deep despair. Determined to support herself, Ani knocked on the doors of several offices and restaurants. Rejections became routine. “They wouldn’t even let me finish my sentence before saying ‘no vacancies’,” she says. Her identity as a transgender woman became an unspoken disqualifier.
With survival at stake, Ani found herself pushed to the margins — reduced to begging on the streets, like many transgender individuals in India who are denied formal employment. Even the simple act of commuting turned humiliating. “I would signal autos. They would stop, look me up and down, and just drive away,” she says, her voice cracking. “I remember crying all the way home once. That night, my mother said something that changed my life: ‘Stop waiting for others. Be your own saviour’.”
Taking her mother’s words to heart, Ani enrolled in auto driving lessons. She was determined not just to drive, but to own autos, to ensure she would never again be at the mercy of someone else’s prejudice.
She was aware that she would not get a bank loan to pursue her dream. Between 2023 and 2024, she negotiated with auto drivers who were planning to sell their used vehicles. Without formal loan approvals, she took over their EMI payments, agreeing that the autos would be transferred to her name once the dues were cleared. She has already acquired four autos and is still repaying around Rs 1.5 lakh in pending EMIs.
She rents out the autos for Rs 200 per day, but with a twist that reveals her deeper mission. Ani makes it mandatory for her auto drivers to follow two unique conditions: they must give free rides to expectant mothers, and not charge elderly transgender persons, a group she says is “often abandoned and forgotten”. Each vehicle carries a sticker that proudly declares these commitments — small but powerful messages that signal inclusivity and solidarity.
Her autos mostly operate in and around Deralakatte and nearby rural pockets, where many of the transgender community reside. “I don’t want others, especially the elderly, to face what I did. No one should have to beg to survive,” she says.
Multiple roles
Today, Ani wears many hats. She is an entrepreneur, a certified personal gym trainer, and now, an actor in an upcoming Kannada film — another bold step into a world that has traditionally excluded trans people.
Yet, her ambitions stretch further. Ani dreams of establishing a home for elderly transgender individuals, a space filled with care, dignity and acceptance. She is seeking government support for land allocation to turn that dream into reality.
“Most of us end up begging or in prostitution, not by choice but because there are no alternatives. What other options do we have?” she asks, raising a valid and haunting question that echoes across India’s transgender communities.
Ani believes that awareness and acceptance are key to long-term change. “We are not strange,” she says with a wry smile. “We’ve existed since the times of the Ramayana and Mahabharata. People forget that. It’s time they remembered.”