DystReview: Kattar Kinnar- Kinari
sharing a communal sense of joy
In a crowded street, there is always a listening ear, and a helping hand. I have taken temporary lodging with two others at a tiny inn in Malleshwaram, a melting pot of people, businesses, and some incredible food.
The Machine has systematically enforced individualism through ruthless gentrification. The construction of gated communities, where each villa comes custom fitted with the latest ICS (Infinite Choice Systems), has ensured that we are socially conditioned into living in an echo chamber under an unrelenting thumb. By dictating your every move, and predicting your every choice, the Machine ensures that you are funnelled into the companies on their lobby, and spend your day interacting with people furthest along the Condition Scale. Gamified totalitarianism.
Amidst all this, Malleshwaram stands alone. I have always wondered how it stood the test of time, or rather, the test of greed. Under the pretence of progress, we are pitted against each other in a race that none of us can ever win. The Machine wins by collecting our dues and profiting off of our alienation. A tale as old as time, or so they would have you believe (after all, they made time, did they not?). The inherent anger I feel every time I think about what life has become is simply forgotten by the smell of the evening market. To some, the crowd may be unwelcome—it is loud, dusty, and you are either buying or being sold an item. But I find it to be the most welcoming thing in my life. In a world filled with loneliness, I feel most safe in a throng wafting towards the smell of Ghee Masala Dosa and coffee. In the push and pull of a market, interaction is necessitated. And sometimes, all it takes is the smallest of conversations for someone to feel wanted. But also, shit ain’t that deep— I just love me some Bhajji on a cool evening, and a satchel full of fresh, fragrant Mallipoo.
I navigate through the street, wandering without aim but with clear direction. As I head toward the playground (one of the only remaining playgrounds in the world), a tiny shop near the entrance catches my eye. My guard is up— a common scheme of the BrainWash Program (BWP) is to set up shop near a public space and sell you a dream. To do so at a place close to my heart fills me with rage. I know I should be cautious, but I cannot simply stand and watch culture being ripped away from a place dear to me. I make my way to the shop, blaster loaded and tucked in my waistband. The owner peeks at me from underneath their veil, clad in all black. “A penny for my thoughts, two to tell me yours.” I hand them two.
“My expression to art defines me, it motivates my existence.”
Their eyes widen and quickly scan our surroundings to see if anyone has heard. On finding no one nearby, they relax a little, but there is still a palpable tension in the air. I lean forward, and hand them a penny. Through the folds of their tunic, hands appear. One pockets the penny, the other places a smooth, silver sphere on the table. It is my turn to be rattled. Time seems to slow down. I grab the sphere and inspect it. The unmistakable sheen of a music sphere. I pocket it, and look up. They lean forward, and whisper, “Our existence is motivated by love, the one true expression of free will.” I relax. This is no enemy. This is a comrade.
I walk over to the playground, and sit by the bleachers. I place the music sphere in my portable headset, and put them on. Kattar Kinnar by Kinari begins playing.
Kinari is a queer rapper-producer based in Delhi. She has been making music (albeit under various aliases) for years now. She also hosts the Meetha World party as DJ Nasbandi. Now, I do not usually delve into the identity of a musician before I talk about her album because I believe that an album is an extension of a certain image or aesthetic portrayed by them, and must be consumed as such. In the case of Kattar Kinar however, context is important. Through this album, Kinari attempts to present, and represent, her identity. This does not mean that she portrays herself to be a spokesperson for her community or city. But by drawing you into her world, and having you listen to her experiences, she hopes to provide perspective. This is not an easy thing to do, but Kinari absolutely smashes it. Kattar Kinnar literally translates to “Hardcore Transgender.” Kinnar is an ancient term, appearing in the Mahabharata and the Puranas. It was actually used to describe transgenders who were artists, and taught music and dance at the courts of kings. It is a powerful term, a term of reverence— Kinnars are a part of the kingdom of Indra, king of the Devas. If we were to explore our identity through ancient texts and tradition, we will find freedom, and representation. Kadwa Sach Mithi Bitch starts with spoken word, talking about culture as a fundamental entity. The atmosphere is menacing, and you are caught off-guard by an almost whispering flow purring in your headphones. And just as you begin to get to grips with the rapping, Kinari cues the Kuthu percussion— the Dhol and the Parai break all preconceptions, and your body is drawn into ecstatic dance. In a little under two minutes, Kinari sets the tone for what is to come— she is feeling herself, she is having fun, and she wants you to feel that energy too.
Agni is a fire dance number (sorry). Sinister and sexy, Kinari leaves you bobbing your head as you listen to a shemale boss talk her shit. This carries over on Baahar, in which Kinari flows over an intense yet somehow understated beat. The snare really complements the warmth of the keys, as Kinari raspily narrates a day in her life. It feels like she is painting this confident, yet inaccessible picture of themselves—giving the listener enough to be invested and listen to her story, but also making sure they understand that this is her story, not yours. You are expected to listen, and dance like there is no tomorrow. And when Rock bottom Parichit comes on, dance you will. The atmosphere is frantically joyful— you begin to feel your inhibitions slipping away as you immerse yourself in her universe.
It is at this stage that Kinari takes an intermission, perhaps sensing that you need a water break from all that dancing. The energy is peeled back with the title track, Kattar Kinnar. Kinari highlights her experiences with her “clients” i.e. lovers, over a muted, jazzy Dhol and a voice message to a current lover. As you sit, out of breath, sipping water, you are struck by how raw and visceral this grainy collage of polaroid experiences feels. There is no faking, there is only warranted shit-talking toward the fakers.
Once you are hydrated and ready, Kinari brings out the Sitar and proceeds to dehydrate with straight heat. You are informed that Kinari is a ten with a massive penis (but cuffed) on Feminine Plural. The title is just as clever as the beat, urging you to not just take notice, but to do your research and only approach them once you have put in the work to understand. There is a marked shift in the tone of the album from here on out, as Kinari deviates from using trap beats as a base and instead turns to sampling speeches, movies, and Bhajans. The Kuthu percussion remains. Madhuri stands out with its incredible production. You are lulled into an almost hypnotic atmosphere with the stripped-back beat consisting of only a Dhantal and Parai. Kinari is dancing alongside the homies with a devotional fervour. She is never not in control—she is always riding the beat, bending it, and shaping it to present to you what society deems a “sinful” lifestyle. The outro samples a Bhajan, further driving home the message. Both Gobar Mitti and Hijar take this forward, but now, Kinari introduces an element of vulnerability to the celebrations. Gobar Mitti, with its raw mixing, makes you feel like you are listening to them at a local concert. The rapping contextualises the celebrations— throngs of ecstatic, attentive individuals listening to the experiences of Kinari. This is her time, her moment to take charge of her narrative. On Hijar, Kinari abruptly switches from traditional to trap as she punches in a grim reflection of her current life— at the cusp of acceptance, she still see only one real person, herself. Is this acceptance really worth it?
And as you, the listener, come to this realisation, you take a step back, and reflect. There is work to be done, a whole world to understand, and you have just taken the first step.In a world that thrives on hate and constantly rejects your very existence unless you bow down, how can one truly feel like themself without conforming? Kinari presents a compelling answer— you get together and party hard. In sharing a common sense of joy amongst people, one can truly see a person for themselves, and accept them at her most vulnerable. And what could potentially bring about this common sense of joy? An unequivocally street album with incredible, accessible, head-banging production, and hungry, punchy rapping by an artist unapologetically talking her shit.
The party winds down. The ecstasy morphs into a dopamine-infused clarity. Bring the vibes, and open your eyes.
Songs downloaded: Kadwa Sach Mithi Bitch, Agni(Blowjob Lips), Baahar, Rock Bottom Parichit, Kattar Kinnar(intermission), Feminine Plural, Madhuri, Gobar Mitti (Memory Foam Garibi), Hijar
The music capsule should keep my decay at bay for a week at least. It has bought me some much-needed time. The conversion is inevitable, but I will hold out for as long as I can.
Inevitability brings with it a sense of peace. Either than or I am just sleepy. gn.