Diary Of A Mom- A Transgender Short Story

1996: I am a mother. No one can change my status. Unless I break away from my only child. My son, who wants to be something he is not. How can he suddenly become my daughter? I always wanted a son, a tough one, who would look after me when i grow old. Bring a beautiful wife home who would bear me grandchildren, but he is not going to follow the rules. He is going to become a woman who likes men. 

I come from a traditional Bihari family. I had a mother who married me off to the first man who saw me. He is alright I guess. The first time I saw him was on our wedding night. I didn't love him then but I had dreams of a beautiful life as all women do. He didn't love me either. Slowly but steadily our relationship fixated on our only son. I couldn't bear more children because of my cystitis. He never complained but I felt incomplete without a houseful of children. Debu, as we fondly called him. He grew up with the girls in the colony. I always found him playing with dolls and sometimes make-up that the neighbouring aunt had displayed on her dressing. It was adorable when he was 2 then alarming when he turned 8 and slowly I felt a loss of the son I once thought he was. He is 15 now. Already great with studies, only he is unhappy. I see it in his eyes. My husband is planning move away from this familiar neighbourhood I had so come to love. The only other family I thought was mine. 

2000:  Debu wants to study abroad. He already wears girly clothes, shaves minutely and has long hair. He also walks like a woman. It is a habit for me now. But my husband hates it. He is tired of yelling now. And the new neighbourhood is not suspicious yet. It was difficult to make friends at my age and the shame! I do not get out much at all. The kitchen becomes my havan but I don't like cooking at all. 

2005: I met Debu in a hospital. He tried to kill himself. His wrists were slashed and his face had thinned. The ridicule and the shame lingered in the air. He never got to go abroad and study. Instead he was left on the streets. We never looked back. The doctor recommended a psychologist and we told him, he is not mad. He just wants to be a girl. The doctor insists and we give in. The counselling starts as soon as he gets up from bed. My husband refuses to accompany him.

2011: Debu brings a boy home. His father died of a heart attack in his absence. I still didn't think about love when he passed away. It was a relief. And we still got the house. Deb continues to live with me now. He has applied for nursing. He gets rejected twice but he doesn't give in. I think life has taught him to be strong. He has seen more in life than i could imagine. Me? I just get out of home more often and kind of proud of my little Debu, who isn't little anymore. 

2015: Debu is a doctor now. I sold the house and moved in with my ageing parents. They do not mind and my mother is glad for some company. My daughter now specialises in inducing anaesthesia. I never thought she had it in her. But then I never thought I would say this. She lives with her companion, who is a professor in the University of Wisconsin. Debu still sends me money. It's more than I could spend but I keep it. 

The postman arrives. 

He gives me a heavy envelope. 

My Visa is here. I am to join my daughter soon. 

Love At A Coffee Shop- A Transgender Story

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

She looked at me frankly and curious too. I found her enchanting. She had long hair, wavy but ended in curls, blond highlights that might have faded away to a dull finish now. Her eyes were small with a button like nose and a mouth that held the most beautiful smile. I turned over on my seat and blinked at my image staring back at me in the mirror. 
I could see the woman who was hiding behind manly clothes, waiting for everyone to see me as just that. How could anyone know how i felt? A woman. A man. Or both?
I just knew that down inside I was born to be a woman. 
The cup of coffee getting cold beneath my fingers as I fidgeted with a broken pencil, just like my broken spirit. I still had the previous evening to write but the writer in me didn't. I just wanted sit back in my chair and finish the book. I wish it was a romance because if anything that I needed in my life was just love. My parents are still unaware. They think that I am their little boy. My face was changing too and with the hormone supplement, I was feeling sensitive and teary-eyed often.
"Do you mind if I sit with you? The entire coffee shop seems to be filled with young students", the man sat without my consent and I looked away, not wanting to meet his eyes. 
"Sure", I muttered, still staring into my book.
"Would you like another coffee? I don't see that consumable now", he was trying to be light. Trying to laugh but I didn't know how to react. I was wary of his friendliness.
"No. I am fine".
After a few minutes of silence, I found him staring at me, and mostly trying to peep into my book. 
"You haven't written a word since you are here. Do you want to borrow a pen?"
He handed out an expensive looking pen at me, "Take it. It won't bite".
I took it without hesitation. Will that shut him up? I was staring at him now. He was a handsome guy. Not in a model like of way. He had a receding hairline but his eyes and face had an open endearing look that I could not imagine anyone saying 'No' to him. He wore a simple blue stripped shirt with rolled up sleeves, showing off his very tanned wrists and fingers that seemed to clench and unclench over his cup of coffee. He had long fingers and his body was bulky as if he worked out in the gym.
"Would you mind if I tell you that you are one of the most pretty faces I have ever seen in a long time?"
I didn't mind at all.
"I get that a lot".
Even when I dressed as a man. I got that compliment. Not handsome. Pretty. And I glowed under my mother's disapproving eyes.
"You should let me buy you a coffee".
"No thanks. I have a doctor's appointment and I can't really have much of caffeine with my prescription".
My voice had change through time now. Six months! And I did deliberately tone my voice down, try to sound like a girl.
"You look fit to me..."
I wanted to tell him everything and stop this useless flirtation. I am not what you think I am. I am a transgender. But still a woman who wants to come out in this world and be herself.
But I just got up and left, leaving behind a romance that could have been mine. 

A year later

Same Coffee Shop.

I held my book in my hands. Finished. Published and open in front of the entire world now. The publisher had been excited to get this manuscript, said that India was getting into this 'Pride' moment. This is what it needed. I could literally see the dollar signs in his eyes. And I wasn't too unhappy about my royalty check too. I was independent now. I could afford that sex change operation now. My parents were still coming to terms with my sexuality and I was coming to terms with my life at the moment. I was twenty now. Studying in the college where I used to be a boy. 

"Can I get an autograph, Ms Writer?"
I picked up the pen for another signature. Nina. That was the name I had chosen from Niel. 
"Red suits you".
I looked up and saw him again. He still had the same lazy smile as if it hadn't shocked him.
"Hi again", I said shyly, "So now you know and you can hate me. I am used to it".
"Would it shock you if you if I asked you for a coffee now?"
I lost my voice.
"I mean after you are done with the event. Let's get to know each other again. Man or woman, I really find you intriguing".
And I said yes. It felt freeing. And I felt like I was flying already.