14 June,2026 09:31 AM IST | Mumbai | Vinay Arote
Activist Sanamcha Kakchingtabam has been providing life-saving medical aid to Manipuris stuck in relief camps since the ethnic strife broke out there in 2023
Over a thousand miles away from Mumbai and its rainbow-and-glitter-drunk Pride parties, the reality of being queer in India's less privileged regions looks entirely different. In Manipur, where ethnic violence has disrupted lives since May 2023, displacement and blockades have fractured the healthcare system. In Chhattisgarh, conventionalism isolates the LGBTQIA+ community from mainstream medical infrastructure.
In both regions, Pride is neither an annual festival nor a marketing gimmick. This is a gruelling act of mutual aid and survival. Away from the public eye, grassroots queer networks have become frontline providers of HIV healthcare. Cut off from global funding, especially from the Donald Trump-led US, they are sustaining vital support networks out of pure necessity, proving that solidarity is forged in the trenches of war itself.
Advocate-activist Sanamacha Kakchingtabam ferries life-saving drugs to HIV+ persons in camps in Manipur
To truly understand how resistance functions on a human level, one must look at trailblazing advocates like Sanamcha Kakchingtabam from Imphal. When ethnic conflict erupted in her state, displaced persons were stripped of all privacy. It was a loss acutely felt by LGBTQIA+ persons, who had to navigate their trauma of ethnic violence while coping with heightened vulnerability due to their marginalised sexual and gender identity.
Activist Sanamcha Kakchingtabam has been providing life-saving medical aid to Manipuris stuck in relief camps since the ethnic strife broke out there in 2023
The impact this has had on queer healthcare is harder to diagnose on the surface level. Before the violence broke out, many transgender persons and men who have sex with men (MSM) travelled to different districts to access government testing centres and antiretroviral therapy (ART) anonymously to escape suffocating stigma around HIV. But being trapped in relief camps without any documentation has entirely cut them off from these life-saving treatments. Recognising this need, Kakchingtabam has devoted her energy to helping the community.
"Life-saving ART is generally stable under normal circumstances. However, the crisis shattered continuity [of treatment]. Protests, extended bandhs, and Internet blackouts left vulnerable HIV+ queer individuals entirely cut off. My team and I travel to the most remote areas of our state to ensure continuity," Kakchingtabam tells Sunday mid-day.
Her day begins at 7 am and stretches past 10 pm, as she and her team ferry medication to those who need it. She negotiates with law enforcement, securing safe passage for her colleagues to navigate the curfew, and aggressively advocates to local authorities to protect her medicine pipelines. Whenever physical movement became impossible, she'd run virtual counselling networks, guiding isolated clients over crackling phone lines in the few pockets that still had some mobile signal.
Kakchingtabam is with the Maruploi Foundation and the operational costs for PrEP projects are funded by the India HIV AIDS Alliance. Her team has actively supported 17 queer persons inside relief camps and anchored life-saving networks for nearly 50 families, which include PHIV children (Perinatally Acquired HIV, refers to individuals who contract HIV from their mothers).
Her grassroots-level activism, besides saving lives, is also changing mindsets in the North East state. "My experience working with HIV+ children helped build a bridge. The way heterosexual families treated me changed completely because they saw the impact of advocacy," she says.
While ethnic violence ravages Manipur's queer community, Chhattisgarh grapples with a crisis of structural silence
In the tribal heartland of Chhattisgarh, NACO and the Chhattisgarh State AIDS Control Society (CGSACS) have made basic HIV testing and free Antiretroviral Therapy (ART) structurally accessible, but preventive care remains severely restricted because of cultural roadblocks.
Pre-Exposure Prophylaxis (PrEP), or medication that reduces the risk of contracting HIV, remains mostly inaccessible in the public sector, and private options are non-existent. Ankush Rohit, president of non-profit Sankalp for Equality, explains that the daily challenge is often cultural rather than purely medical: "Staff sensitivity is low. A queer or bisexual individual asking for PEP [Post-Exposure Prophylaxis] or PrEP is often met with judgmental stares, breach of confidentiality, and invasive questioning. In our daily activities, we spend more time shielding our community from institutional humiliation than actually facilitating care."
To overcome these barriers, especially within intersectionally marginalised tribal communities, the community-based organisation (CBO) deploys peer educators who speak local languages and integrates HIV and STI (sexually transmitted infections) screenings into general health camps. They effectively bypass the stigma associated with standing in designated "AIDS" clinic lines. With no CSR support and recent cuts in international funding, most notably by the US government, the queer-led organisation now operates in survival mode, fuelled almost solely by willpower.
Apart from medical aid, Rohit's organisation also hosts the Miss Transgender Chhattisgarh pageant
"As a bisexual individual who has built his own path, I look at Sankalp for Equality not as a funded project with an expiry date, but as an empire of empathy we are building for our people," says Rohit, "We survive because stopping is not an option for us. Our organisation works as an umbrella under which many CBOs are registered, and with each passing day, we are teaching and producing community leaders to plan for the future. If we close our doors, hundreds of queer individuals will lose one of their safe havens in this state. We fight, we improvise, and we keep moving forward."
Medical emergencies highlight the need for such support systems, especially where institutional gatekeeping can mean the difference between prevention and a lifetime of risk for patients. Back in 2025, when a panicked, suicidal queer youth faced a high-risk HIV exposure incident near Durg, the critical 72-hour window for PEP was rapidly closing. Local hospital staff remained dismissive and bureaucratic protocols proved insurmountable. Stepping in personally in the dead of the night, Rohit secured the necessary medication within 24 hours.
In a world that often pushes them to the margins, the desi queer community continues to protect and serve society without discrimination, despite facing discrimination. Their battles are not only a struggle for survival but also a triumph worthy of equal celebration.
>> PrEP (Pre-Exposure Prophylaxis): A single tablet taken by individuals who are HIV-negative to prevent contracting the virus. When taken consistently, it reduces the risk of getting HIV from sex by about 99%.
>> PEP (Post-Exposure Prophylaxis): Emergency medication to be taken within 72 hours of exposure to HIV, and continued over 28 days to prevent the virus from taking hold of the body.
U=U: (Undetectable = >> Untransmittable): When an HIV-positive person takes antiretroviral therapy consistently as prescribed, they achieve an undetectable viral load, which means they cannot sexually transmit the virus.
>> âPrEP requires a valid prescription. NGO clinics can provide one
>> âMedical screenings before PrEP are mandatory and include a full STI profile, and kidney/liver function tests
>> âPrEP prevents only HIV. Using condoms is advised for prevention of other STIs
Rs 500 to Rs 800
Monthly cost of PrEP at queer-led NGOs
