For Bella Sharma, Garima Greh was more than just a shelter; it was a turning point. As Delhi’s first resident and later project manager at the Mitr Trust-run facility, she transformed from a refugee born of a state promise into a lifeline for others. But when government funds became erratic post-2021, things started to deteriorate. Bella not only saw the shelter fall into debt, but she also experienced it firsthand, working without pay and giving up financial stability to keep the place running for others like her. As these homes struggle to stay afloat, the trans people who rely on Garima Grehs, or literally ‘dignity homes‘ for shelter and support are left increasingly vulnerable.
Garima Greh shelter board scheme
Launched in 2020 under the Support for Marginalised Individuals for Livelihood and Enterprise (SMILE) initiative by the Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment, the Garima Greh scheme was designed for the support and rehabilitation of transgender people. The scheme offered shelter, food, and medical care for trans folk in distress, while also promising them a space for skill development and capacity building. Initially approved for 12 shelter homes across India, the scheme was hailed as a landmark step in institutional support for the transgender community — an attempt to translate legal recognition offered by the Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act, 2019, which mandates the state to ensure the welfare, protection, and rehabilitation of transgender individuals. However, 5 years later, while the number of Garima Grehs has increased to 18, the condition of the Garima Grehs has been in a consistent state of decline.
Delays in funding
Sharing her experience as the former project manager at Mitr Trust, Bella recalls her time heading the Garima Greh in Sitapuri, a locality in southwest Delhi. She talks about a delay in the allocation of funds. “For over 15 months, we did not receive any funds. How is anybody supposed to run a shelter home without any funding? We were struggling to pay the rent, and the salaries of the staff were consistently delayed. We had to change our cooks and guards repeatedly.” The shelter homes have had to cut down on staff members, increasing the responsibility of those left behind.
The original guideline issued by the ministry under the SMILE initiative recommends about 12 staff members, including a project director and a manager, an accountant, a mental health counsellor, 3 watchmen, cooks, a sweeper, etc. “I worked as the project manager even without a salary because I wanted to pay back to the community,” says the 24-year-old. “The guidelines forbid staff members from seeking shelter at the Garima Greh; they have to rent their own places. But because the salaries were not coming in, I was struggling to make ends meet. Eventually, I had to quit my role as the project manager and get another job.” Bella received the salary for her 2022 tenure 3 years later, in 2025.
Ramya Eswaran shares that the funds are tight and they are struggling to keep the shelter running. “So many people depend on us; we cannot shut the shelter down. We do whatever it is in our power to keep things running.” The shelter was relocated to a different place, following eviction caused by a shortage of funds.
Tucked away in the lanes of Ludhiana, Punjab, is a Garima Greh run in collaboration with the Mansa Foundation Welfare Society (an NGO that works to provide educational, social, and economic support to transgender individuals). The shelter is led by Mohini Mahant, the founder of the NGO and the first queer person to be appointed as a jurist at the National Lok Adalat in Punjab. According to Mahant, they received only the first installment of funding and are still waiting for the remaining promised funds.
In the pilot phase of the project, funding was disbursed in three installments: 40% at the start, 40% after six months, and the remaining 20% at the end of the financial year. The revised guidelines now propose a two-installment structure — 50% at the beginning and 50% at the end — intended to streamline the process and reduce operational lags. However, NGOs working on the ground state that they haven’t even received funds for the previous tenures. The new model has also been slow and overly bureaucratic, with multiple layers of documentation required before each release, leaving shelters cash-strapped.
Shutting down and staff cutbacks
The trans shelter in Chennai, run by the Transgender Rights Association, was briefly forced to shut down following a lack of funding. Ramya Eswaran, the project manager, shares that the funds are tight and they are struggling to keep the shelter running. “So many people depend on us; we cannot shut the shelter down. We do whatever it is in our power to keep things running.” The shelter was relocated to a different place, following eviction caused by a shortage of funds.
Nikunj Jain, a trans man from Mandsaur, Madhya Pradesh, is the founder of the Tapish Foundation, an NGO working for the upliftment of the local transgender community. In November 2024, the foundation established a Garima Greh shelter in Indore. However, nine months later, they have yet to receive any financial support from the government. As a result, the shelter currently operates without any staff.
Social exclusion and community resistance
The shelter home in Indore has also faced violent attacks on two separate occasions. Similar cases have come out of Ludhiana, and Mahant cites community resistance, threats, and violence as major challenges. According to her, some members of the local hijra community, structured around the guru-chela parampara, oppose the Garima Greh initiative, viewing it as a disruption to their traditional way of life. “They see it as a threat to their structure and have at times resorted to intimidation and even violence,” she alleges. Jain shares similar concerns, adding that the police often hesitate to intervene in such cases. “There is a fear of backlash, both social and symbolic,” she claims. In popular Hindu belief, hijras hold ritual and cultural significance, often seen as having the power to bless or curse, which sometimes leads to reluctance among authorities to act decisively in conflict situations.
The shelter home in Indore has also faced violent attacks on two separate occasions. Similar cases have come out of Ludhiana, and Mahant cites community resistance, threats, and violence as major challenges.
Jain describes the challenges of being queer in a smaller city: “Here in Madhya Pradesh, people still openly discriminate on the basis of caste, and queerness remains a more complex and layered issue.” One of the biggest challenges, according to him, is finding queer-friendly landlords. “People don’t want to rent their places to trans people; they assume we’ll spoil the environment. They don’t think we deserve education or employment; they believe all we do is beg. People here even discriminate against women—so when it comes to trans people, the bias is even more blatant.” This sense of distrust towards the trans community deepens when they are unable to pay the monthly bills and rent on time.
Jain claims to have raised these problems with the Department of Social Justice, but to no avail. On being asked about the government support in the functioning of the shelter, Mahant says, “The officials sit in their air-conditioned rooms and draft these guidelines, but only we understand the challenges that we face at the grassroots level. They don’t really care.”
Lack of sensitisation
Nikunj Jain shares instances of insensitivity and crude behaviour from the front of government officials who are supposed to work as their partners. “They have spoken to me condescendingly and rudely on multiple instances. They cannot speak to me like this.” He alleges that even the officials aren’t sensitised to the correct usage of terminologies or pronouns, often turning to colloquial transphobic language.
Pushpa Maai runs the Garima Greh in Jaipur, Rajasthan. She also shares her exasperation with the officials. “I had to cut down the capacity of the Garima Greh, following a lack of funding,” says Maai. “I changed addresses, which I duly informed the officials of via email. They did not respond to any of my queries. Later, the same officials berated me for changing the location of the Garima Greh without intimation. How can I inform them if they do not maintain a channel of conversation?”
Pushpa Maai runs the Garima Greh in Jaipur, Rajasthan. She also shares her exasperation with the officials. The Garima Greh scheme lacks a grievance cell. However, surprise checks on the working of the shelter homes are conducted. “They don’t answer our queries but show up at our doors every once in a while to question our efficiency,” says Maai.
The Garima Greh scheme lacks a grievance cell. However, surprise checks on the working of the shelter homes are conducted. “They don’t answer our queries but show up at our doors every once in a while to question our efficiency,” says Maai. “How are we to follow guidelines when you do not fulfil promises?” This general lack of sensitivity runs deep within the social strata. Even with established guidelines, transgender individuals still encounter obstacles to acceptance, education, employment, and healthcare.
Skill development
Ranjita Sinha is a trans-rights activist and a member of the West Bengal Transgender Persons Development Board. She is cited as the pioneer responsible for the Garima Greh program and currently runs a Garima Greh on Gokhale Road in Kolkata. She talks about the systemic challenges faced by trans folk when it comes to employment and the role Garima Grehs has played in bridging this gap. “Often, trans people have to resort to begging or sex work to make ends meet. I got myself an education to break out of this pattern. Now I am trying to pay it forward.”
Garima Grehs aims to offer skill development programs wherein the residents are offered a series of programs such as tailoring, computer basics, and hair and makeup courses, among other things. However, these skill development courses, too, function without relevant government support. The shelters, powered by NGOs, work at a personal level to provide the residents with training, with the hope of helping them secure jobs. Sinha shares that she has written to multiple government officials regarding funding, but to no avail.
Vidya Rajput, the project manager of the Garima Greh in Chhattisgarh, Mitwa Sankalp Samiti, urges the conversation to be extended to bigger issues. “The shelter homes are only a part of the arrangement required for trans-welfare,” Rajput says, asking for the conversation to be extended to horizontal reservation for transgender individuals in education and jobs.
Need for horizontal reservations
As per the NALSA Judgement (2014), transgender persons were recognised as a “socially and educationally backward class of citizens,” making them entitled to reservation in educational institutions and public employment. However, the implementation has been irregular. Even in 2025, eleven years after the judgement, trans activists get booked by the police for protesting to get reservations.
Garima Grehs have enabled a lot of trans people to pave the way towards dignified lives. Not only have they served as a safe haven in times of need, but they have also worked as a space to earn an education and develop skills. “Education upliftment has enabled several trans people that I know to get jobs in the police force, as part of larger conglomerates such as Amazon and Flipkart, etc.,” says Rajput. “We (trans people) are capable, but we are denied the resources.”
Urging the parliaments to discuss reservations, Rajput says, “Trans folk often lack access to education or safety nets. Reservations in educational institutions and public spaces will not only offer them a dignified life but also normalise trans existence in the public sphere.”
Meera Parida runs the trans shelter in Odisha. She discusses the need for government sanctions to uplift the skills honed by trans folk. “The government needs to work in collaboration with us in order to understand and address our grievances. While Garima Grehs have been successful in helping build the skills, getting and sustaining jobs is still a struggle,” says Parida. “This leads to a lack of faith amongst newer members, who then begin to gravitate towards traditional roles such as sex work and begging. What is the purpose of skill-building without income generation?”
Garima Grehs have enabled a lot of trans people to pave the way towards dignified lives. Not only have they served as a safe haven in times of need, but they have also worked as a space to earn an education and develop skills. “Education upliftment has enabled several trans people that I know to get jobs in the police force, as part of larger conglomerates such as Amazon and Flipkart, etc.,” says Rajput. “We (trans people) are capable, but we are denied the resources.”
Similarly, Kinnarasmita, the NGO that heads the Garima Greh in Thane, Maharashtra, has set up community kitchens for those in need. These kitchens serve as employment for transgender persons while also providing food to those in need. While localised activists and NGOs have made strides, the government continues to be lax and slow in its support.
