Prabha

​She was beautiful, gentle, motherly yet powerful.

It was a bright sunny day and she leaves her home with her little grand-daughter Rhea following her happily.

Prabha would drop Rhea to her school bus stop every morning, meet all her friends at the temple, buy vegetables and fruits for the day, return home and start working on her fabrics. Embroidery was her passion.

Although her brother was sent to the best school, she never got a chance to visit one. Her only job was to pack her brother’s lunch box. Even when the entire family wanted Prabha to learn only cooking and other household work, her mother never gave up. She taught Prabha the art of using needle and thread.  Prabha’s imagination and understanding of the colors and design reflected exquisitely in her products.

She could make any plain cloth look beautiful.

Prabha was married at the age of 17. She was loaded with responsibilities and opposition from her family to run her small business but the woman, very much like her mother, never gave up. She always kept her passion alive.

Her effort and never give up attitude helped her stay independent all her life. Even today when she stays with her son, she is able to support herself and the entire family. She also teaches her little Rhea to live life with her head high always.

If you are determined, no hurdle is big enough to stop you from
achieving what you want.

Treat me Equal !!

The only memory I have before stepping in that house is that of the raincoat I had worn on that dark rainy day. I was lost; I could not see any familiar faces around me. I was hoping someone could differentiate my tears from the raindrops and understand my pain of not having my parents around. I was just 4 years old.

Entering that house had changed my life forever. Suman was my care taker, a blessing in disguise. He held me in his arms and I knew that I was in the right hands. He brought me gifts, chocolates and clothes. He always left home in the evening and came back early in the morning when I was asleep. In his absence, I used to sleep with his roommates. All were very cheerful and happy people.

I was about 15 yrs old when Suman took me with him to his evening job for the first time. I always stayed in the protected environment of my house. He looked sad that day. When we left home, I was excited to know where does Suman work but as we neared his work place as he called it, there was fear rising in me. It was a dark evening; we walked for 10 minutes and reached a spot under the flyover. It was a highway connecting Thane to other places like Airoli, Bhiwandi and Kalyan. There were relatively less people and more noise of vehicles around. There was a huge pipeline behind and the growth of plants there looked wild to me. We stood there silent, I held his hand tightly. I was too scared to stand there. I was worried; I would be bitten by some insect. I wished to be home. Suman was all decked up with bright red top and brown pants. He had worn a huge pair of bling earrings.

I saw Suman talking to a young guy, he looked handsome. Suman asked me to follow him in the car. We went inside the car and there were 2 other men. Suddenly everything was clear to me. I started shivering but Suman held me tight. “You will be fine”, he said. I wanted to run away but I guess this was it. This was the life I was meant to live.

It started raining heavily outside and I wished to have my raincoat back, I wished to have that day back in my life.

It’s been 15 years now. My work place is the same as Suman. I don’t remember my parents anymore but I see my parents face in each person who has negotiated with me.

Suman has died and we have some different additions now in the house. I have tried to enroll them in schools but failed each time. We are not left with too many options to survive.

There is nothing I love in this world except my secret box of things which contains my raincoat with the smiling cartoon characters, Suman’s letter of apology to me and his personal diary. His dream was to be treated equal.

“You call me a HIJRA or the THIRD GENDER or a TRANSGENDER but please treat me equal.”

•Because there is no count of Hijras in the census and they are so mobile, it is difficult to get headcounts for them in India.

•Hijras have mostly lost their ritual roles in harems and temples and have taken to sex work or as brothel keepers. 

Togetherness

Cool breeze hugged me, chilled water touched my feet like I had the best feet in the world. I could see the waves desperate to come towards me again and again. The sound of them was like music to my ears. I felt peaceful holding Arif, my eyes closed. He allowed me to enjoy each moment and stood right besides staring at me and enjoying my little smiles.

Arif, these waves seem to be more inclined towards me than they are towards you, I told him to which he just smiled. It was still bright around, I saw Arif, he had grown old. Rinkled face and lose skin but still fit. He still looked adorable and handsome. I could keep admiring his face for hours together. His face did reflect the dreams he could not achieve, the happiness he could not spread, the father he never could become but surprisingly the face was still calm, though not satisfied but yes happy.
I sometimes thought whether he ever noticed me the way I noticed him.

It had been 35 years of togetherness, we celebrated each day with new energy and new freshness. When a young me decided to live with a man of a different religion who was 10 years older than me, my dad immediately disowned me. No mother and siblings made it simpler to leave. Arif's parents were ready to accept me but when they realized their son was about to marry an infertile woman, they too disowned us.

We moved to his home in Dubai, the country where he had his job. I remember, it was my worst flight. I was very scared about going far away from my home country with no one to come back to! I was apprehensive if Arif would live up to all the promises he has made and if he does not turn out the man I have loved, what will I do? Will my father be able to forgive me ever, what if he needs me. So many questions and doubts haunted me.

The only time I went to India was when I heard of my father's demise. Arif accompanied me and helped me with all the last rituals. 

My husband turned out to be a much better human than I had thought of. I could not have asked for more than a man with the most beautiful heart. We loved each other for what we were, no one changed the other, I never wore a hijaab nor did I ever wear a bindi. The only religion we followed was LOVE.

Today when I look at him, the only thing I can think of is "This man completes me! Religion does not have the capability to make or break any relationship" 

Right to be Happy!

Tall, fair, handsome and intelligent was how I described Sameer, my husband to all my friends and family. We got married, stayed with Sameer’s parents and had a beautiful life. We had a bunch of very good friends who we kept meeting every alternate weekend. Those friends were a very integral part of our lives. Going for drinks, dinner, for vacations were things we loved doing with them.

Sameer had to travel to Delhi for about a month. Sameer’s job included a lot of travelling in India. Though Delhi is a city where you get everything you require, Sameer’s mom and me were too worried because this was the longest trip.

A lifeless Sameer returned after 10 days, not listening to us, not seeing us, not reacting to anything we say. A bad and gloomy phase of my life had just begun.

I joined work post one month. I loved my work and that was the best way I could keep myself busy. I met fewer people, worked more, read more. I didn’t meet my friends either.

Though I knew except a few good friends at office, most people had started gossiping about me dating my boss. Initially it really hurt me but later I ignored those talks because arguing and explaining things to every person wasn’t possible.

On my birthday, my friends surprised me at my home and drove me to a nearby hill station. We were about 8 of us. There was loud music, there was fun and there was laughter. I missed Sameer, no one could replace him, but my friends were trying hard and somewhere I missed being with them.

That was the day I realized, I was still alive! The trip brought me back to life. I started smiling, I started going out. I hadn't changed, finally after 8 months, I was being myself – The Deepa who loved to laugh, who loved partying and who loved having people around her.

Sometime later, my brother was planning a get together for our old colony friends. I was excited to see all my childhood friends. I dressed up at my best, and was all set for the evening that came along. When I checked myself in the mirror, I knew I looked pretty but suddenly sadness gripped me. I missed Sameer’s naughty smile, I missed the way he said “You look Hot”. I was missing my husband. I walked out of the room with tearful eyes.

My in laws were not too happy seeing me. They suddenly snapped at me and said “Is it really important to attend this get-together”. I was taken aback with the behavior. A 28 year old woman basically knew what she was doing, I thought.

Their behavior looked different towards me since my birthday. The numerous calls when I am out, arguing with me if I was late irked me. But I thought they cared and were concerned.

 “You should not because you have lost your husband just about 8 months back”, my mother in law snapped.

“He was your son too; you seem to have moved on very soon Maa! Attending family weddings, attending kitties are signs of you moving ahead too, aren't they? And staying home or going out doesn't define how sad I am without my husband” I angrily snapped back!

There was silence and I realized I had hurt a mothers feelings. But I was not wrong either.  I left without waiting for a reply!

My brother picked me up and I was looking forward to the evening. We met a lot of our friends and most of them knew about my loss, so no one really spoke about it.

I went to pick up a drink for myself and heard a woman fighting with her husband. “Rahul, I know she’s your colony friend but her husband is dead and she’s lonely. Don’t you understand she is hitting on you? Please keep your distance from her.”

I was shocked, angry and sad all at the same time. My brother had heard this too; he just held my hand – a sign of support and love. I wanted to cry, scream at all the people around me.

I had lost my husband and I was just trying to cope up with my life! Why was I termed as a woman looking out for support, wherever she gets it just because she was lonely?

Sameer was my companion; I was with him not because I needed him but because I loved him! But I was sure and confident on what I wanted to do with my life now. I had all the right to be HAPPY!

These people could not push me back into depression, how much ever they tried.

Women have all the rights to live their lives fully. We all knowingly, unknowingly give names and point fingers to many women around us and mainly single women. A divorced woman, a widow and a girl who doesn't have a boyfriend are all been termed either as a “Bitch” by all or “Easily Available” for men or as a “Threat” by other women.  

Peaceful Sleep

Run! Run Fast! Hurry up. You need to take bigger steps; you can’t be so slow - I heard my father screaming at me. We were saving our lives from some random people who I did not recognize. The only reason I was running from them was because my father was.

There was no way I could find out the reason. The darkness scared me further. I had grabbed my father’s hand but could not meet the pace of my father. Suddenly the people behind came nearer and my father sped up. I lost him, I lost him somewhere. I was all alone in the dark. I was going to be kidnapped, I was going to die! I knew it. My father left me alone; he did not turn to see me. He saved his life and ran away. I was sitting there unable to decide anything.

And I woke up from my dream sweating with a severe headache, from a dream that had been following me since I was 15.

My dad was dead; to be more specific he committed suicide when I was 15 leaving behind loans debts and a business that had failed miserably. My relatives walked away without giving a helping hand to me and my mom. They did not want to get into such a big mess. Our home was snatched away from us by the bank against the loan.

I had always been a silent kid, moreover a scared kid. I did have clear opinions about my rights and wrongs but never had the guts to speak up against the wrong. I was always indecisive.

When people abused my mother to be the unlucky woman in my father’s life, I kept quiet.

When I was molested by my uncle post my fathers death, I kept quiet. 

When my grandmother slapped my mother because she refused to shave off her hair which usually Hindu widows are supposed to do, I kept quiet.

I was angry on everyone around me, I was insulted, my mother was insulted but I kept quiet. I don’t know why I never could open my mouth. I screamed in my dreams but no one heard me.

Mom and me left Delhi and moved to a comparatively smaller city called Pune in Maharashtra. Everything was so different here; there was no one we knew. But mom wanted to come very far from Delhi. She wanted to settle in a place where the memories of my father and his failure won’t haunt us, where I, her young daughter won’t be hurt. But little did she know, I was not hurt, I was completely broken within. I had a feeling of hollowness.

I told my mother I did not want to study. She left the decision on me and I was standing there not knowing what am I going to do with my life.

My mom treated me as an equal. She wanted me to speak up, be decisive and be independent.

I chose Bharatanatyam, a beautiful form of dance, very close to my heart. I did not have to shout, I could express with my eyes. On my first performance, I saw people noticing my moods and applauding for the same.

The bad dreams I had started fading as years passed by. They never left me alone but they were sure less in number now. I was doing well in my career and my mom in her small business. We both were happy.

My relatives walked in home one day and they expressed the family’s unhappiness with my dancing career. Before my mother could defend me, I told them this was our decision and we would not like anyone’s advice on the same and politely asked them to leave our home.

The dreams never came back again and I slept peacefully after that. I was not alone, I had myself, my words and my dance with me!