THE BLAME
The monotonous whirring sound of the old fan in my room made me shiver with irritation. Sweat beads creased my brow as I looked up at it and then down at the rusty blade in my hand. The peach-coloured walls of my room, adorned with scraps of pictures of female celebrities, seemed to mock my cowardice. Even a lizard peeping out behind the tube light, retreated hastily as if it never wanted to see me.
You can’t do one thing right, can you?
I threw the blade away in disgust. It landed under the bed with a sigh of relief. After all, nobody wants to take the blame for murder. How can a mere blade survive the agony of court trials and being hounded by the press for no fault of it? Of course, a few demented species like humans never give up on their race to stardom.
I chuckled. Feeling lighter, I got up from the floor and sat on the bed.
Mom and Dad didn’t come near me. Not that they didn’t care. My mom, a pathologist and the CEO of a private lab, had banged on my door a couple of times on her way to and back from work, enquiring if I had eaten anything during the day, etc.
Maybe she was relieved that I was alive, judging from my monosyllabic answers, that she stopped herself from saying anything more and spent peaceful nights in her room.
My father has been silent. Too silent for a hardcore Punjabi and for being a lawyer. No, I am sure he wasn’t angry with me. I could only see pity, disbelief, avidity in what I would next in his deep-set eyes. Eyes that followed me wherever I went. His assiduity unnerved me.
The slight breeze flowing in through the window sent waves of guilt washing over me. Though I was clear in what I wanted, I regretted the day and the way I had said that. Like an over-enthusiastic chef, I had put everything on the plate and served it to Mom and Dad.
They never rued your offerings through the years but that day, it was like a chaste Brahmin being offered meat as his meal. You are to blame….
**********
THE CONFUSION
I was born into and am a part of a perfectly normal Punjabi family. Ronak, my short sweet name, unlike the loud Punjabi names, and equally sweet demeanour made me the most ‘wanted’ kid in the family. My uncles slapped my fair, plump cheeks playfully and my aunties or grandmothers fed me ‘ghee laddus’ to strengthen my already robust self. I basked in their attention as much as in the Patiala sunshine.
But the camaraderie didn’t last long. Not that I loved them less, but I had grown to love myself less by the time I was eight.
“Ronak dada, come let’s play cricket.” My cousin’s shrill voice pierced my solitude as I sat opposite the dressing table admiring the red glass bangles and the large ‘bindi’ on my forehead.
How I wish the boys left me alone! But fearing that my cousin would barge in if I didn’t go, I reluctantly changed into my jeans and T-shirt- a replica of the Indian Cricket Team’s official wear- and rushed out, a fake smile plastered on my face.
I didn’t know what was happening to me. If I used Mom’s lipstick or bindis, my mother and grandmother laughed it off as childhood fantasies.
“There’s nothing wrong with him. He will change as he grows older, you see.” Mom pacified Dad as he frowned at the neighbour’s comments on my way of walking or talking. But as time passed, their complacency faded like the flickering lights of the city at dawn and was replaced by incredulity, shock, and sometimes a grey shadow of sadness.
“Ma, today Shalu wore a nice hair band to school. I can see it in the shop there. I will just come back.”
“Ronak! BEHAVE YOURSELF!” Dad growled. I hastily dropped the band and rushed back home.
He is right. But I don’t know what to do.
I was thirteen then. I studied in one of the best schools in Patiala. It was a co-ed school. At first, my parents thought that I should be sent to a boys’ school only so that I became a ‘man’. But then they agreed on a school that would give me holistic development.
“If he mingles with children of both sexes, he will find out what life is. He will start behaving like a man. I trust my son.” Dad’s chest swelled with a hushed pride.
But that was what I could never do.
I couldn’t bear to see my peers- boys, and girls, being friendly or flirting with each other. Girls were attracted to me but I felt that I was just one among them. I tried speaking to them about the newest fashion trends in clothes and accessories, sexy male actors, etc. When I touched them or spent some time with them, they shrank back in disgust or the more polite ones just floated away like spongy clouds.
If I mingled with the boys, I was despondent that we didn’t have anything in common. I didn’t share their love for racing cars or bikes and certainly not swanky jackets to show off. They found my walk and talk funny. My self-respect kept me away.
For once, when I was in Grade X, I found a very handsome and intelligent boy ready to connect with me. I was over the moon. Sourav and I discussed academics, politics, and whatnot. I yearned for his company. We spoke for hours on the phone after school or tuition.
Am I now a teenager, as Mom said about my peers? It is such a blessing that she talks to me unflinchingly.
I slowly started to get physical with him, in the washroom, corridors after school and the like. A shiver of pleasure ran through my spine every time he touched me. I never felt like this when the girls touched me. At fifteen, I didn’t know what would happen next.
Sourav wanted to become an aeronautical engineer. He was very focused on achieving his dream. I never spoke about our future. I just wanted the present to prevail. I couldn’t lose him.
I was always good at academics. I topped my class four times in a row. As my father always said, I never let my eccentricities shroud my capabilities. My parents supported me in almost all my ventures and applauded my achievements, hence I wanted to be like them. They thought I would change into a ‘real man’ with time, so they never complained or admonished me. They immediately accepted Sourav as my ‘friend’.
Dad turned to Mom, his eyes shining with pride. They looked at me victoriously. “Didn’t I tell you he has changed? Look at the boys! I can’t wait to see them fly, earn millions, and fill their nest with gold. I can’t wait to cut the wagging tongues in our neighbourhood.”
Little did I or they know that their relief and pride was only a shimmering curtain that hid the real act, a misty veil that camouflaged the rocky grasslands.
But it had to lift and they had to live through the reality…..
*********
THE REALITY
One day, maybe when we were six months into our relationship, Sourav’s father caught us kissing near Tavi Lake. We had gone there in the afternoon. We practiced Trigonometry for the next day’s test. After about three hours at dusk, we sat by the shore and watched the sunset.
Suddenly, I felt Sourav’s hands move up and down my back.
Was he tensed about something?
Anyway, his touch always had the same effect on me. I relaxed and moved close to him. How it happened, I still don’t know. Next, I could only feel the warmth of the dipping sun on our entwined lips.
We only drew apart when we heard a scream pierce through the velvety darkness that surrounded us.
I fumbled, still heady with the intoxication.
“Papa! No!” Sourav screamed as he was pulled away from me.
“You leech, shameless fellow!” The resounding slap stung my cheeks.
My brain cleared somewhat and I staggered forward.
“Sourav!” I screamed but it died down in the roar of the motorcycle.
I could see my future receding quickly….. was it forever?
I went home. My parents were watching IPL On TV and ignored me. I didn’t bother to have dinner. I lay on the bed half-naked. My mind played a recording of the evening. I let it be. My phone pinged at midnight.
“Let’s not meet again. Even in school- Sourav.”
So, this was the reality.
This had to happen, stupid! And you thought they would accept you both. Like this! Just like Sourav’s father, your parents have to know. So, tell them! Tomorrow….
I must have dozed off late for when I came out Dad was ready to leave for work. Mom told me to hurry up for school. She would drop me as I was pretty late for the test.
I struck the axe on the usual morning humdrum…
“Dad, Mom. You have to know this. I don’t wish to hide anything from you. You have been my greatest support and I need your help now. I have not changed as you think. I still feel that I am in the wrong sex. I am effeminate. I can never be Ronak, a typical Punjabi man. And I am not ashamed of it. I like Sourav. But our relationship is or was different. I don’t know if it has a future. But Love is Love”
I held their hands tightly. “Dad, please listen, I am not bothered about having a partner. I just want to be what I feel, feminine inside out. I want you to accept this. It is a bitter pill to swallow but it has many benefits. If you allow me to change, I assure you that you will never feel ashamed of me in the future. I want to be myself, very badly.” I sobbed.
“Our relatives and society will never accept this. They will never accept Sourav too.” My mother had spoken for the first time.
“Those who want me to be happy will accept Mom. And that’s what matters.” I spoke firmly.
Dad loosened his tie and left the room without saying a word. Mom followed him.
I went to my room, where I remained with blame and guilt for company.
******
THE CLARITY
After my board exams, I left home.
My parents can’t suffer. What if I have to face Sourav?
I regretted my decision the moment I sat on the train bound for Mumbai. I wanted to rush back home like the trees I saw out of the window.
I had written a letter before I left, expressing my regret and guilt. I couldn’t die and I couldn’t live peacefully in my society. I needed to get my thoughts straight. I didn’t want to waste my talents and intelligence. I promised to come back sometime. Maybe….
Mom sent me some money. I enrolled myself in a correspondence course to complete my 12th. I worked in a fast-food joint during the day. I made sure every ounce of my energy was spent before nightfall. The tears that pricked my eyes often were less painful as compared to the thorns of disgust and mockery I had to endure.
After five years, at twenty-one, I completed a course in film direction, which I wanted to pursue as a career.
I didn’t know where nature was taking me when I shot a documentary on the LGBTQ+ community, mandatory to get my certificate. It was a kind of revelation when they spoke about their body, how they recognized and accepted themselves, the challenges they faced in society, how they were dealing with it, and most importantly sex change.
I went home, more knowledgeable and surer of myself. I knew what to do.
My parents saw the documentary. For the first time, Dad broke his silence.
“Would you like to go in for a gender reassignment surgery?”
We hugged, wailed and laughed all at the same time.
The road forward was not easy. I remembered what Robert Frost wrote in his famous poem, The Road Not Taken,
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.
For my parent’s sake, I wrote long emails to my extended Punjabi family explaining my choice. To my surprise, they said they were happy to see me happy. I sent them virtual hugs. That was safer…..
The operation was done in Manekshaw Hospital, Chandigarh just after my twenty-second birthday post consultations with top gynecologists, a plastic surgeon and a urologist.
Rishika was born.
A nurse congratulated me as she took off my bandages. She asked me how I felt after the success.
How did I feel? Did I miss Ronak?
I smiled but didn’t answer her.
After a few days, when I was discharged, I pondered over the question on my way back home. I was at peace. A long weary battle I fought had come to an end. Even for Mom and Dad. I promised myself to make them happy, their sacrifices worthy.
And Sourav…?
My mother’s phone beeped. I glanced as she clicked open her WhatsApp.
“When will you be back home?” It was Sourav.
I just stared at her. So, she had secretly been in touch with him. Where did her goodness end?
“Mom, I am not ready….”
“He just wants to see you once, Rishika.” How sweet it sounded when Dad said that.
I promised myself I would not cry. I stepped out to see him waiting with a bouquet. If he had any apprehensions, he didn’t show it. Calm and serene…..my Sourav. He took out a flower and placed it in my hair.
“Just as you liked it,” he murmured in my ears.
Will everything be the same?
He read my thoughts as always.
“Well, yes, if you’ll be my Ronak, Rishika.”
We both laughed heartily…. All the way.
************