the start of this passage, she later constructs herself as feminim when viewing herself as part of the larger community, a communi-ty which aggressively identifies itself as non-masculine. When explaining how she and the other hijras in her community curse. for example, she employs feminine first-person plural verb forms. among them jhagxa kar legif [‘we will fightf’], bolegi{ [‘we will speakf’J, gali bhi degif [‘we will also givef curses’], kahegf [‘we wil] sayf’]. Similarly, what she earlier defined as cacam [‘paternal uncle’’ becomes mausi{ or khalcf [‘maternal aunt’ ] in this passage, a switch which is consistent with the other hijras’ use of ma{ [‘mother’] when addressing their guru and dadĆ [‘paternal grandmother’] when addressing their guru’s guru. It is perhaps this same distinc-tion between terms of reference and terms of address which explains why Rupa refers to her guru as dadam in the discussion directly preceding this passage, but as dadif when reconstructing a group interaction that revolves around her.
A similar sort of shift is enacted by Sulekha in excerpt (11) belo w, when she explains how the most well-known hijras in Banaras, namely Channu, Idu, and Chanda, came to be so impor-tant within the hijra community. When describing how hijras reach positions of power in the hijra network, and how she herself will someday aquire such a position, Sulekha switches back and forth between feminine and masculine reference. Like Rupa, Sulekha describes the development of the hijra lineage in Banaras by using primarily masculine terminology: dadam [‘paternal grandfather’], natim [‘grandson’], parnatim [‘great grandson’], and celam [‘małe disciole’1.