MORBID MOON

I was saying silent good-bye to my family.

It was two in the morning. Everyone sank in slumber. There was a pin of silence across our house.

My mute mobile beeped with the most-desired message of the night. ‘We have reached darling, waiting meters away from your house. Please come sharp.’

I needed to hurry up.

We had only one living room where Mom and our only sister slept on the cot while I bedded on the floor. The outside room which we generally used as the drawing room was occupied by Dad and my two brothers on two separate cots.

I was thrown on the floor to sleep.

I was actually thrown out of many things in this house.

 ‘We should have poisoned this evil spirit at the birth itself.’ I often heard my Dad screaming at my Mom. ‘We made a big mistake by keeping this jinxed soul alive.’

The fault was entirely mine. I shouldn’t blame anyone else for this.  I was truly an evil spirit and jinxed soul.

The message of Pritam hit my mobile once again. ‘Mantu, why are you being late? Fast baby, fast!’

I didn’t pick up many garments. There were actually not many garments with me. Mom managed to buy a few for me during festive seasons and mixed them perfectly inside the heaps of my sister’s while bringing them home so that Dad couldn’t figure out my small share.

‘I can’t afford to pet this evil at my home.’ Dad made it very clear from the beginning. ‘If he wants to live here he must earn to support his living.

Mom was in deep sleep tonight. I kept gazing at her serene face for some time. My eyes were soon filled in tears.

‘I will miss you Ma.’ I faintly touched her feet and muttered, then slowly lifted my bag to step into the outer room. Loud snoring of Dad was polluting the entire place. I pushed myself in between the men’s blatant beds to touch the main door.

I opened the door with my heart at my throat. Slightest sound at this stage can break their sleep and invite only a series of troubles for me. My Dad will abuse me with his usual fiery words. My brothers will take no time to bash me up. My sister will poke me in her routine derisive tone. And Mom will shed silent tears at one corner of the room.

When I came out of the house the shining moonlight drenched my soul.

The large, round moon was exactly on the top of my head. My eyes got almost blurred on its very sight.

Morbid moon!

When I was a small kid Mom used to feed me by showing the moon in the sky.  ‘Moon will come down and kiss your forehead if you take your food without troubling me further,’ was her routine trick to fill up my stomach.

I was waiting for the moon to drop from the sky and kiss my forehead.

As I grew up the moon became my very own man. I was instantly caught by his fatal attraction.

‘Mantu is my homely child.’ Mom used to defend me in front of the doubtful relatives and curious neighbors. ‘He prefers to stay at home and help me out in domestic works.’ Mom tried to bring confidence in her speech knowing very well something was grossly wrong somewhere with her this son.

Her this son was different from her other two sons. He had no taste in manly, body-contact, boys’ sports; rather had his mind trapped exclusively in hide & seek games, playing with dolls, and more intensely in different genres of dances starting from classical to body-gyrating Bollywood numbers.

When I was around six I started forcing Mom to dress me up like my sister. Mom time to time obliged to my demands. I just loved to be in a girl’s attire. When she also decorated my face from her limited stocks of lipsticks, eye-liners and face-powder I felt at the top of the world.

Mom enjoyed to see me in girl’s clothing. ‘God has made Mantu a man by mistake.’ She didn’t mind to say that.

Like all pampering mothers she thought it will go on its own way with age.

But I never became a man.

 

Slowly in course of time my conviction became stronger. I am a woman trapped in a man’s body. God played a big joke with my destiny. He sent me to the earth with an identity that is never my own.

My feminine behaviors were becoming prominent as I grew older. My classmates nicknamed me as ‘Meyeli’ (woman-like). They made constant fun of my disinterest in sports and befriending with girls. My heart soared when my sister tied Rakhi to my brothers. Why I was not allowed to do that? I asked several times to my mother. ‘This is a sisterly act. You have no role to play here.’ ‘I am also their sister. Elder sister.’ My heart yearned for saying that. ‘Why can’t I then tie Rakhi to them?’ But I had no way to explain to the people around me that I am a woman, not a man, though carrying a body of a man. They would have thought me nothing but nuts. My family members were not exception of that.

My father and brothers applied their preferred way to rectify me. I was often beaten black and blue by them as they thought that would be the right panacea for my malformation. My sister used to add stint to my agonies by her harsh, derogatory words. One day all my siblings appealed to my parents to drop me from the school. They were not comfortable to be labelled as the siblings of an ‘abnormal’ feminized boy in their school.

I became a school drop-out instantly.

I understood one thing very clear.

My body created the key barrier to my true identity. A woman can’t live in a man’s body. She needs a body of her own.  

But how can I change my body? Who will guide me to do that?

I came to learn some basic tricks of beautification from a kind-hearted neighbor who was working in a unisex saloon. Her kindness brought me a low-salaried job in the same saloon. I honed my beautification skill while in the job and after sometime started getting assignments from wedding and other social events. Maltreatment at home had shown gradual decline after my earnings were added regularly to the monthly family-income. My siblings avoided me as much as possible. I was no more in any speaking term with my father though his off and on pinching enrouting my mother didn’t find the end.

I was by that time thoroughly accustomed to taunting and misbehavior of the common people. My girly attires, long hair, heavily decorated face, manicured hands and feminized movements attracted many eyes in the public transports and roads. Sexual abuses were not exceptions. I knew very well there is nobody to protect me in the society. Even the cops were not friendly to me at all while I visited them once to lodge complaints. ‘You bloody chhakka (feminized male), how dare you come to police-station?’

One day I met Pritam in the saloon. He came to take a hair-cut. There was something in his eyes and voice that swept me away. Finally a genuine friend came to my life.

‘You need lot of money to go for a sex-change operation. If you can reach Bangkok the operation cost might be little less. Some lakhs, not a penny less?’ He told me.

I fell from the sky.    

 How can I collect so much of money?

I soon dipped into depression.

My dream to have the body of my choice will remain only as a dream? What’s then the point of my living this life?

Pritam took me to a surgeon for breast augmentation surgery.

‘He will give you two perfect breasts only on some thousand bucks? Can’t you afford that? I can give you some money on a loan if needed. At least you will have some sort of satisfaction for the time being.’

My eyes were filled in tears.

I left home for the operation saying Ma that there is a big wedding assignment in Delhi and I have to stay out for a couple of weeks.

Ma was nervous. I never spent a night outside the house before. ‘Don’t worry Ma. I will be perfectly safe.’ I assured her.

Soon I got my much-desired breasts. The doctor also prescribed me some hormonal tablets to give my body the shape of girl.

The next problem was how I can keep the busty impression out of the sight of my family-members. That time I started wearing bra to support and protect my most valuable physical assets. My body was changing, curves slowly gaining prominence, voice becoming high-pitched. I hardly spent time at home to avoid the doubtful domestic eyes. But couldn’t escape the eyes of my mother.

‘Don’t stay with us Mantu. Go away. This house has no place for you.’ Said Ma one day. ‘If the men of this family come to know about your body changes they will cut you in pieces. Please, I am telling you in folded hands. Just go away from here.’

 

 

I slowly came out of the house under the brightest moonlight, stopped momentarily to take the full smell of our house for the last time and promptly mobilized my legs to Pritam. He is taking me to Mumbai.

‘Beautician like you has much more demand in Mumbai than in the small city of Uttar Pradesh. You can earn much more and save faster for your sex-change operation. Mantu, let’s hit Mumbai.’ He had told me.

The morbid moon couldn't halt a bit of my movement this time.

 

   

 

Reviews

[Leslie Philibert]

A writer I know well, and like. What I really enjoy is a peek at other cultures, like the way Sugata presents the background, and written well too. Good write !

[Coyote Poetry]

A powerful story. You wrote of hard decisions and difficult journey. I like the honest tone and the ending. Perfect title for the outstanding story. What people fear is dangerous for the people in harm ways.
Coyote

[Dayran]

Its tragic when family members don't understand the way of nature in life. A well expressed story that finds support in the reader's sympathy.

[Sami Khalil]

"Slowly in course of time my conviction became stronger. I am a woman trapped in a man’s body. God played a big joke with my destiny. He sent me to the earth with an identity that is never my own.

My feminine behaviors were becoming prominent as I grew older. My classmates nicknamed me as ‘Meyeli’ (woman-like)"

Wow. This causes tears to drop at the cruelty and misunderstanding of family and friends. Ignorance and stupid traditions can cause so many problems to " Unusual people" as they may call them or even the black sheep in any family for biological or hereditary reasons. Science will eventually shed light on so many things. Thank you for sharing this powerful story...:)..................