One evening, a couple of weeks after her wedding in May 2013, 26-year-old Rani Shrivastava let out a cry as her husband, Amar, walked into the living room where she sat watching a music show on television. Amar looked different. Very different. He was dressed in a yellow and purple salwar-kameez, and sported eyeliner, red lipstick, ear rings, bangles, anklet and a wig of long black hair. He was smiling.
“I got scared,” Rani tells me as she hands me tea in her rented apartment in the Rajnagar area of Ghaziabad, a city 40 km east of Delhi. Although Amar