The Black Saree

His heart was threatening to beat itself out of his chest, it was too much, this, this attraction. What would his parents say? His sister? His granny? His friends?? He felt suffocated. No, this is just too much.
But the black saree beckoned, like a witch. He had to absolutely wear it and see for himself. He was a woman, more woman than his sister. It’s unfair! Life is unfair, how come she gets to wear it without a morsel of effort, while he had to literally steal it off his mom’s cupboard.
He knew the effort it took every day to fit in. He knew that if he wore this now and if someone caught him, then there was no going back. But the saree was a force in itself.
Until then an occasional dupatta, an earring to his unpierced ears or his mother’s red Bindi was immensely satisfying, but not today. The moment he laid eyes on the saree; he fell in love.
He convinced his mother to buy it. It was way above her budget, so he asked her to indulge for once. She seemed to like that argument, and so she did, not suspecting a thing. But being too precious from the moment, it was unfortunately locked in, for the next family wedding, till now. He knew, today was the day when his granny started planning a temple visit yesterday. Now is the best time to try and wear it. So he stayed back, faking a stomach ache.
When the fabric touched his skin, he felt pure bliss, a sort of nirvana. This is what it must feel like, right? He almost didn’t hear the calling bell. His blood ran cold. He still didn’t know how he managed to get out of the saree, keep it back well folded and run to the door, all in good time.
It was getting more and more difficult to be a guy, when he knew with certainty that he was a girl. His inner turmoil threatened to boil over, but then, he knew it was not his choice. He felt trapped like his granny’s parrot, functioning in perfect order, yet very much caged.
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A small attempt to capture the struggles of person suffering from gender dysphoria. Their struggle is real, and it extends from simple to the most complicated things. Least others can do is, kind acknowledgement. They call it by the name gender dysphoria or gender identity disorder and the change need to begin from there. How can you call is a ‘dis’ order or ‘dys’ poria when it is a state of mind and life with it is normal? Stop. This. Tag. Of. Abnormality.

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