Recalling the birth

A transgender Indian during a gathering in New Delhi, India

With the start of every morning, the colour of my face is painted brightly. Coloured powders, kohl swiped eyes and shiny metal jewellery decorates it. The mirror tells me every day how beautiful I look. I smile back at the mirror, embracing my jewels. The huge stud ring on my finger compliments my dark lanky fingers. The flowing yellow saree and red blouse cover up the nothings I have.

I step out of my room. Into the commune. Another disowned unlucky bastard like me comes running to, telling me how beautiful I look. I thought the mirror told me that already.

Isn’t it like the other day when I stepped in this commune for the first day? No! I didn’t step, I was brought in, on someone’s lap. The guru, who taught me the rituals of being a Hijra, brought me here.

I was five when I started clapping sitting near the window, to greet the people passing by in the street. My hands flat, allowing only the palms to touch. My father told me not to. I didn’t listen. I was enjoying doing it. I was greeting people. I felt happy. But sad that my father didn’t rejoice the fact that, every day I was greeting people passing by, with my palms flat. His consciousness about the fact was rising every day. One fine day, all of a sudden, my mother started weeping. I saw a few people coming in, wrapping me in a length of clothing, dancing and singing happily. Flower petals showered. I started jumping and clapping happily. No one accepted my existence like they are celebrating it. My mother pulled me towards her and hugged me tightly. My shirt wet. I have pulled away from her.

That was the last day I saw the woman who gave me birth. From the day I was brought here to date, dance and music, these people and the commune. Oh! And those traffic signals. Those local trains as well include in the tiniest detail of my life.

Flaunting my garnished look, I step out of the commune, for the day to start in real.

Every day in Kolkata is a not a new experience for me. It is a same old everyday thing. From the signal to the local trains. Lunch near anywhere to the income hub. Teasing those lanky male figures to looting those rich bitches in the city. Everything is done every day.

But today, someone enquired me about emotions while I was in the tea stall for the regular morning cup.

I wondered what that was. Like yes! The last emotion, the last warmth, the last breath near my forehead, I felt was of that woman who gave me birth. Anyway even if some emotion creeps into me, I bet people will laugh at us or get freaked out. Why? Because we aren’t normal human! Biology has got the deal to judge our mind. I don’t know what worth were we sold off at. Along with our body, our right to love. Our right to have the orgasm. Our right to fall in love. Our right to going through a heartbreak. Our right to reproduce. Our right to build a home. Our right to feel the sorrow of losing a family. All our rights, all of them which our mind owned. Are we all sold off? Sold off at a meagre price. The price of money. Only because biology separated us!

I wished to answer that question. But the reciprocation wouldn’t be satisfactory. I smiled as if I didn’t understand the question. A lie! Like my birth.

Paid for the tea and continued with the day.

Best Fit

1. Dad.
2. A brother or likewise figure.
3. A man who loves her madly but she doesn’t love back.
4. A man who is loved by her, but doesn’t reciprocate to her feelings.
5. A man who she is with, but is not sure what is going on.

Every woman will have a point in life where she experiences these five kind of men at once. She might visit this stage, once in a life, twice in a life or stay entire life in this stage(if she fails to get her brain out of her ass).

I wonder how does modern era define love. Nobody ever could. Shakespeare failed to impress the modern generation as well. Women no-more swear by men anymore. Swear by MAC? Sure! The Russian red costed a big deal after all. It matters.

Shale was a lady of grace whom I met approximately one year back on Christ Interview. Although she didn’t make it to Christ, we became amazing friends. We both shared an equal orgasm for literature. She had a boyfriend, whom she loved dearly(I thought so, until…). They broke up few months back. He dumped her for a girl. I immediately called her up when I got the news. She was absolutely fine. I mean, she was doing amazing. She was happy. She was planning to break up with him for a long time, but had no reason to.

Taking Shale as an example, how many of us, are in relationship which doesn’t even matter? It doesn’t have a piece of the person in it. It doesn’t get on our nerves. It doesn’t sync with our breathe. I was in two of them. Its awful! When it starts, you feel, you can come out of that whenever you wish. But no, its like a web.If you are a horrible sensitive person like me. Stay away from this web of “Infatuation”. You really can’t compromise for a long time. Even after you try to change and make that person the way you want your love to be, only for the sake that, he or she loves you a lot. But it doesn’t change the fact, you don’t love him.

Love is periodic. Cities where power, wisdom and knowledge walk hand in hand, same place men and women are in some kind of search. Search of absolute nothing. They say, till the time that particular “nothing” comes and stands in front of you, you don’t know that exists.

I think that “nothing” gets a definition, when one gets to define it their own way. They always get to. And believe me it has to be perfect when you find it. You need to find it perfect at the very first go. Or else find a better fit in this gazillion population world.

She Speaks Business.

Born and brought up away from my native city Kolkata, in a small city called Siliguri(I had no clue why my mother decided to give me birth there till a certain time). My grandfather who was posted there at that time(Government service), wanted her elder daughter near him. After a few months even my dad took a job near Siliguri. So that is how the civilized settlement of my family starts there.


I was a kid of five when I started dreaming of my career. I wanted to be in the media industry since then. My family was ruled by lawyers, professors and government officers, for that reason this dream was very vague. I was passionate about books more than anything else. The only source to read books would be my school library, where I would borrow a book every day. The librarian stopped stamping the due dates behind the books after a point, as he knew I am going to complete and return them the very next day. I was a very average student since my high school. Though I would win national fests, be a geek, debate and even lead several things in school. I was focused always in one thing, the dreams I see. 


It was not long before my dreams started clashing with my personal life. Result? Change of friends, away from girlie groups(Away from drama grew up with maximum guy friends a girl can have. Wait, actually all until my best friend happened.), break ups, etc. No person could handle a ambitious feminist like me in a conversation.


My single mother always supported me in every decision I took( Keeping aside her motherly melodrama after a while of argument). We had an amazing ride of experiences filled with hatred, love, friendship, grievances, tears, justifications, after her separation, with my dad. There were nights we used to wonder we will survive till when. My brother was a little companion in all of that.The war was like we against the entire world. There were people who helped whose existence was never considered, there were people who showed us back as well. There were several good friends of mine whom I considered good until…I discovered I was an emotional fool. Wherever I would see love, I would be there for that person desperately. Some people took advantage of this. I was an emotionally exploited person who got tired after a certain point. That is when I understood the meaning of family. My mother told me after a while “Its always not blood that gives you the reason, who you should count as your family. A deserving person tells you he deserves to be your family.” My mother became my hero. I saw her start from the scratch and build an empire with each night reminding me, what my brother and I mean to her. 


A rebellious person I grew up as, strong, proud and full of passion to live life, I kept counted people in my life. I slacked negativity from my life really fast. 


I don’t compromise on my emotional needs for anyone. I only surround myself with people who give me happiness. Many people hate me for this reason. But I wish they knew I only care about people who matter. 


The last day a friend from my school told me about a guy, who follows my every post. He told her “She clearly speaks business, I don’t think she will ever get married, such a sharp tongued lady can only make her husband run off.” To everyone who thinks of any ambitious lady this way, thank you so much. It is because of you people we kind of ladies exist. We are glad we got over the scoop of fairy tale pages of life real fast. And talking about marriage? Well! Although I have no clue whether I will get married, if I do I would marry a feminist, and not a douche bag. So I hope he doesn’t get offended by anything I say, or else he is free to leave if he wants.