pilgrim’s blog

To be obscure

I find heavenly

Your world is yours only

No expectations

No pretensions

No mask

No farce

You laugh

You cry

Unbridled like the

Bird in the sky.

No fear of judgment

No fear of compromise

Like the new born

Untouched

Untarnished

Unsoiled

Following ones will

That walks holding the mantle of divinity

The imprints of the Creator's fingers

Still lying on ones body, unerased

Till the world adopts you

And even He fails to recognize you

As one of His .

My first encounter with transgender was when as a little girl I used to live with my aunt in Mumbai. Our house was in Goregoan(W).I and my cousin brother would return from school around 1p.m.The school bus would drop us at a stop which was ten minutes walk from our home. The roads would be mostly empty at that time of the day.

One day as I and my brother were walking back home a group of transgenders ,all loudly dressed and holding a dholak in their hand came from the opposite direction. As they neared us I hid behind my brother who was only a year older to me. Playfully one of them tried to pinch his cheeks and it caused so much fear in me that till recently I used to shudder at seeing them. Their hoarse voice would ring in my ears for days together.

When my friend's mother gave birth to a baby boy we went to see it at their house. There again I saw them singing and dancing and blessing the baby. They did not appear as frightening as the first time. In fact I liked their playfulness and dance movements to a popular Hindi number of those days.

Recently I came across an article about two transgender friends who were not only well educated but also well versed in the classical dance form of Kuchipudi. Reading their interview in which they say feminity lies not in the form but in the heart gave rise to respect for them in me. Facing all odds this dancer duo had carved a niche for themselves in society gaining their respect which otherwise ridiculed their brethren.

To be able to face what they feel and to fight for the right to live by their standards needs courage extraordinaire. Society should come forward to help them escape from the mire most of them live in and also help them to achieve their goals as the dancer duo for in every one there is a spark of talent that need to be identified and brought out.

It must have been sometime past six in the morning. An icy cold wind was blowing. The curtain of mist covering the region was slowly lifting unveiling the so called river. The illegal sand mining and the abundant growth of the tall grass had almost lead to the death of the river. But the month being December and the monsoons being sympathetic that year there was still a weak movement left in the river. She was happy about it.

Even at that early hour the place was fairly crowded. She walked up to the priest who was allotted to her by the temple authorities to perform the rites on her father's death anniversary. It was fifteen years ago she had come here for the first time accompanied by her mother. Fifteen long years. Much would have changed since then but not that which she felt when she came here year after year.

She could still remember the first time the priest had softly asked her to go and have a dip in the river. He was a man almost her father's age .She could not bear to look at men his age for the pain of sudden separation from the man who mattered to her the most then was still raw. The water was shoulder deep then. She only had to slightly bend to get fully wet. With tears rolling down her cheek( she hated to express her grief in public)she knelt in front of the banana leaf containing articles for the last rites. Through the film of tears that covered her eyes and that which she was striving hard not to spill, she saw the hazy figure of her mother standing at a distance. She looked old suddenly.

She tried to concentrate on the slokas the priest was chanting

"Kaayena vaacha manasendhriyairvaa

Buddhyathmanaa vaa prakurthey svabhavaath

Karomi yadhyath sakalam parasmai

Naarayana yethi samarpayaami"

She did not know it then .

The priest was asking her to offer water to her father's soul and carry the banana leaf with rice grains, sandalwood paste and gingelly seeds to the east side and call the crows by clapping her hands.It was the belief that only if the crow came and pecked at the offering was it considered accepted by the departed soul. Her whole body racking with sobs, she stood there and clapped. There were others also who were offering cooked rice. The crows seemed to relish that more than the raw grains she was offering. With a laden heart she continued to invite the messengers of the nether world. At a distance she saw a black object hopping towards her banana leaf. The tears were making it difficult for her to see. It was a crow. A one legged crow. A lame crow. It decided to peck from her leaf. Was it the crow's physical disability to reach the cooked rice or was it because it was truly a messenger from her father that prompted it to eat from her leaf she did not try to unravel.She was happy that all ended well and it gave her a sense of satisfaction.

As she left the premises of the almost dead river she prayed ardently that the monsoons would be generous and human hearts merciful so that her river would survive as it meant a lot to her ..    

This story has always given me strength to tide over difficult times. So I thought I would share it with you.

Now this man happened to meet God once. He complained to God that the cross he was carrying was too heavy for him and that it was not fair on God's part to give him such a heavy one to carry.

God smiled at him and lead him to a room where lay many cross of different size and weight. He permitted the man to select whichever he felt suitable to him. Happily the man picked up one which he thought would be the apt one but found that it was heavier than the one he carried earlier. Laying it down he went for another one which he found too light. After many trails, atlast, he selected the one which made him happy.

Proud of his success, he went to God with the cross,who once again greeted him with a smile and asked him to carefully look at the cross he had selected. On close scrutiny to his amazement the man realizes that he had selected the same cross of which he had complained to God.

Many a time we fail to notice that we get only that which is best for us.It is upto us to make the best use of what we have and be happy.

. She woke up in the morning with a smile on her lips feeling very happy for no reason. Her heart felt as if it would burst. She felt buoyant and went about her daily chores with a spring in her gait. Tying up her long tress into a casual knot ,draping her sari in a careless manner, wearing her trademark bindi on her forehead and loads of kohl in her eyes she stepped out. She was madly falling in love with herself and everything around her.

In the open she could feel the cool breeze on her face. The flowers on the hedge were as if waving at her. Even the cow seeing her tinkled the bell around its neck. She could not resist herself from patting it. The neighborhood cat came purring to her and rubbed itself on her ankle. The squirrel she fed every morning lifted its head to look at her. Even the lotus in the fish pond with sparkling dew drops on its huge green leaves seemed to greet her. The rain drop laden branches of the old banyan tree shook themselves showering on her the tiny drops as she passed beneath them. Covering her head with the end of her sari she ran giving them a look of false reproof. The beams of the sun light peeped from behind the clouds to touch her face and she turned away unable to meet their piercing gaze. In reply to the questioning look of the strangers passing by, she half smiled at them shyly.

She wondered why was it happening to her and suddenly she remembered, the previous night, as she stood in front of him she had ardently wished to be happy as never before and he had given her the same mischevious look still holding the flute to his lips