Drag at dawn, breaking boundaries in the heart of Hyderabad

I woke up at 5 a.m. on a Sunday to put makeup on my face. I could hear my partner and kids taking deep breaths in their high-tide sleep.

I have never done makeup so early in the morning. As I drag a new face, it is like someone eating a heavy Hyderabadi biryani in the early morning. No one wants to put three layers of makeup, contacts, and lashes on early in the morning.

But I did. I never step outside of my house in drag. Hyderabad is barely progressive in renting out their homes to bachelors and meat eaters, let alone drag queens. I did not take the risk to put myself in full glam, but it was worth taking the risk.

I had my safety to protect my makeup and identity, which I learned from watching Bollywood movies. Oversized sunglasses would hardly give anyone a hint that the eyes behind these glasses are crafted to be feminine.

While I completed my makeup, I eagerly packed my dress, flowers handcrafted by my partner last night, and wigs into a bag. The Uber driver was just calling me bhaya while I smirked. I asked the driver to stop midway for Manab, my photographer friend, to join me.

We were both anxious and proud that we were doing something highly unconventional, yet again, but it gave us some artistic satisfaction. We were going towards Gudhimalkhapur, South India's largest flower marketplace, an hour from where I live.

The place opens in the early hours of every morning, where fresh flowers are sold only in bulk for any occasion, from marriages to rituals to death processions. I knew I could not get even a pinch of space to prepare, so I completed my makeup and dressed in the car.

Once at the market, I found a corner near a public toilet, where I finalized my look with a saree, corset, and shoes. Once I had dressed up in drag, I stepped into the market. I took in the smell of the flowers, the sounds of the trucks loading and reloading, and shopkeepers negotiating with customers.

We began the photo shoot. I could see heads turning towards me as I walked, the question "What is this?" on their faces. Soon, 10-15 people surrounded us, asking us to stop what we were doing. They tried to remove the photographer’s camera, who resisted their efforts.

I was draped in layers of Victorian opulence: a heavy wig, black leather corset, golden cape, and a white saree adorned with oversized, dramatic white flowers. The entire ensemble was a clash of eras: Victorian austerity, Indian elegance, and Shakespearean queer symbolism.

Queerness has always found a way to bloom, much like flowers that burst through the cracks of a rigid world. The white flowers on my saree symbolized purity and innocence, but their size turned that symbol on its head. They became exaggerated, just like the queer experience.

In the chaotic, fragrant environment of the flower market, I stood as a living testament to the ongoing dialogue between history and identity, gender expression, and societal constraints. It was more than a photo shoot—it was a statement of defiance and the beauty of queer existence.

Arranged by Nikki Aye, Photo Digital Editor, for Out.com.
Photos: Manab Das

Patruni Chidananda Sastry is a Hyderabad-based drag artist and performer.

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