"UNIDENTIFIED DECEDENT"

(Part - 1/2)

6th September, 2013: 12:30 AM

Staring at the tip of my fountain pen wondering why the hell the thought came to my mind of writing something about my unidentified and my unwanted life and what the hell am I going to write. Is it really a worth to write it down in the hope of someone to read and that too for what? A person who really never shared anything about the closet life it lived for so many years – no yelling, no regrets, no complain, no expectations; but silently floating on the life’s boat. But a boat without a rudder, drifting from one shore of identity to another shore of identity crisis, finding the right place to fit in and to settle for the rest of the life. 28th June, 1992 – a sound body and a sound mind born in the family of the most radical believers. The whole house was in a carnival of feast, jolliness and festivals. Little did they know the catastrophe that would hit them sooner or later. Then the hormones started kicking in the sound mind and telling to start abiding the much-anticipated norms of the patriarchal notions. But the rebellious germs that already took their place, started dominating the thought process of the socially constructed mind. The red lipstick, the red bindis, the red saree, the colourful bangles and all everything red in the feminine colour seemed to overflow the estrogen in my interior body than the testosterone in my exterior body and that too at the age where the seeds of the socialization starts to germinate. And still I looked normal for all because I was abiding by what everyone expected to see me from their own prejudicial lenses. Then the most awkward delusions and confusions began to start in and out with the fragile body of mine, creating a havoc in the mind and forcing it to think – Really, I was born in the wrong body and the soul or inside someone’s corpse. The tug of war between the mind and the body did carry on for a while and in the meantime a new hormone began to arouse the sexual desires and the eroticism of my new preferences. I began to feel a zeal by the touch of the delicate hands of a beautiful woman and fantasizing of having boobies every time I saw my flat chest and my mensly nipples. The only roadblock between my desires and dreams was the Torchbearer of Machoness that I had the outrage to cut it off forever – the excess organ of my body which has no value, but to be the symbol of the century long male egoistic societal domination. And which determining the identity of mine that is being entrusted on my externity and the name written on all the official certificates. A male name and a patriarchal title which I will hate for the eternity. These all was just the tip of the iceberg, named as Struggle. And the desires, dreams and fantasies kept on rebelling with the externity till the age of my puberty. The age 12, where the testosterone kind of started playing rough inside the body and the mind and the estrogen had no clue what was happening, the domination of it was slowly diminishing. I had this question popping up and over again and again – Am I turning to a MEN now? Where were those rebellious germs? Then this happened. A tall guy, medium brown complexion, curly hairs and nice slim body that could arouse any girl to fall in love with. But why was I curious to know about him more and more? Did my zeal have shifted? The more I started to know him and follow him, the more I got attached to his body and the zeal to fall in love with him, maybe my first love at first sight. The nights were really rough and the dreams were so unattainable in the real society. One day, the zeal’s reached to its extreme – today or never. I reached to him and suddenly with no second thought my lips touched the nectar of those lips and was in the womb of my own mana for a few zeptoseconds. Before I could fully consumed the nectar and come out from the womb, I was in the middle of a brawl and could sense that I was the protagonist. And half fainted, I heard that word which has been for so many long periods to be the traitor of the Purush Pradhan Samaj – NAMARD. As I opened my eyes slowly and slowly from a nearly appointment with the death, I found myself surrounded with bruises all over the fragile body and felt my excess part of the body to be in racked with pain and victimizing me for its suffering. I saw my family crying in shame and cursing their own faith for producing and manufacturing a child like me. It didn’t take much time to entitled me in the family and in the whole neighborhood as the Black Sheep of the human race and a scrap piece born out of so many precious bodies and souls – a squalor among the many moralers. Soon, the bruises of the exterior body got healed. But the chaotic situations arising interiorly reached to its extreme of falling into the trap of mental disorders. I was taken to every known astrologer, healers, babas, pujaris and doctors to find a permanent cure for my disease, which even don’t know that it exists in my so-called mental world. The life went upside down that what I was keeping it as my secrecy, my dark side is all revealed. The kid who looked normal for everyone, is now the hostile for everyone. The mothers kept the eyes of the children covered with their sarees, so that my curse eyes don’t fall on their children or else I might even kiss them too. My parents were tired, listening to the same shits about me again and again and the common dialogue – Mardo ke ghar mein Hijra peda hua. The days went on and the time also; the feelings, the desires and the dreams were dug in some corner of the graveyard of my life; only hoping how long I can carry on like this. And I reached the age of my universal suffrage and got the biggest opportunity to get my freedom back and dug out what’s left behind in the graveyard. The time came when I needed to move to a different arena for my further studies. New faces, new vibes, new air – but there was no one except me in this new arena. No troublesome to face from the people that made me Ghar ka Sirag banega to a Hijra and a title called Namard. Here, I felt solace to be I am and only I am. The life again started kicking. But this time, I was not alone. Soon, I found surrounded with the people that have the same body and soul as mine and the desires and feelings that too had some point of time in their life dug into an unknown graveyard. Then I learned the most beautiful abbreviation in the whole English dictionary – LGBTQ and I realized I found my true identity in the last word – Q. yes, I’m a Queer; not abide by the norms of homosexual and heterosexual notions. The six colours of the rainbow flag became the identity of my personality. But in some corner of the mind, there was this small fear of facing my birth givers, if they find out who I’m actually and the person that I have evolved, sooner or later that is going to happen and surely, I have to face the repercussions. Till then, enjoying life should be the motto. The lenses of genderization was missing among these people and that’s the reason they have more love and kindness to spread in this curse world. 1.2 billion Indians, more than 3000 castes and sub-castes, more than 500 tribes, having the most of the religions of the world, 28 states and 7 union territories, rank 2 in highest population and still my science teacher skipped the chapter 8 of the NCERT Science Book, which was only the lesson in the whole of my school education that could teach a little bit of sex education and that too I had to read by myself because it was censored by 1.2 billion shy and shame present in the nose. The only sexual lessons I learned was from the porn stars and porn sites, sitting in an unknown internet café, in the very most dark corner I could find. The lessons of gender education that I got from my own certificates of education was the typification of each and every aspect that I could see around and the limitations and the boundaries put in front of those aspects. Sometimes, it’s better not knowing anything, then knowing just a little bit, only after that the clash happens with the ignited mind and the dampen and ignorant social world. And that dampen and ignorant social world belongs to my family. They were gratified that a man was born in the family, but not long enough to make them feel a guilt that I was the sin for their past karma – a criminal born in the form of a whore or the umbrella term used for many periods – HIJRA. Still that small light coming through the tiny little whole in my dark world, the only ray of hope and strength to live on the coming days of my life. The June of 2013, my first pride month and the six colours, that’s what I was wearing for the whole month in every place that I went. The feelings of F-R-E-E-D-O-M for who I am actually, rather than the ME was raging through my emotions and actions. The serenity of my own world was above and beyond. But the heart was still pumping with a terror and warning me, it might be the calm before the storm. I didn’t believe and ignored it and was floating into my own melodramas. And finally, the storm came creating the biggest havoc of my life. 28th June – the day of my first pride rally; cheeks painted with the colours of my identity and the flag around my neck felt like the wings of the phoenix. Surrounded by thousands of God’s kids, the celebrations, the love spreading everywhere and to each and every one – a feeling of Déjà vu. I thought I finally reached my nirvana. But not a hint I got what was waiting for me. In the evening when I reached after a whole day of jolliness and feasting, little did I know my official birth givers were waiting outside my rental room to surprise me and I forgot that it was my birthday and now for them I became their biggest surprise. My mother without saying anything and her eyes bursting into rivers of emotions left from the site and only my father tried to look into my eyes, the eyes of male chauvinism. Then he gave the most dreadful verdict of my life – "Aaj se tu mera koi nehi aur hum tere koi nehi, ja ji ley apni jindegi un Hijro ke saath". I was frozen and not a single word uttered from my mouth. The whole body was shivering and my mind went blank. I just turned my head back and saw them for the last time and my mom still couldn’t able to keep her head held high, not even to look at me for the final time and crying in shame. After that nothing got easy, whatever was going with my life, it was only on the lower side. The mental health of me became a joke. Restless night and the days more looking like the black whole of trapping me more and more into an unknown state where there is no returning back. The several attempts of getting an appointment with the devil got failed every time, maybe I was not ready enough to get sacrifice or my heart was way too weak to feel the last pain of my body. The only little savings I had and the small amount that was in my bank account also started showing its downward fall and in just three months, I went from living a life in the womb of my new nirvana to a broke. And today, 6th September and the time is 12:30 midnight; finally got to book an appointment with the devil. Uff! it was hell of a journey, not quite the usual journey everyone takes, but a journey of thrills and grills. Am I sad or am I regretting something? Hell no. Everyone has their own life span and a fixed date to get the hell out from here, some gets out sooner or some a quite bit late. Maybe this is my destiny to reach to this stage and to carry on forever from this stage then it would be nothing to live a life in a black whole only. So, for the last time I looked into the mirror and in naked. The body that have seen the worst bruises turning into blessings and the stains that still it carries from the lenses of the male chauvinistic society. And a strange thing happened today as I was looking at the epitome of masculinity in the mirror, it was sobbing. To my shock, it started bleeding. The blood, that it was longing to puke on the manhood. The sufferings it saw silently with my body and my mind, today it just outburst from its mouth. But there was no single pain inside my body. My mind laughed out very loudly by seeing the pity side of it and feeling a relief that is out of this world. The relaxation that the body felt today was more than that nectar of those lips. And the floor was filled with the stains of a Namard’s blood and whose gonna rub this, ‘cause that’s an impure blood. At last said to it, “from toady, you don’t have to suffer anymore because of me and I don’t have to suffer anymore because of you”. Then I did the murder of it and its still lying in front of the mirror and my hands covered with the impure blood of it. Don’t think I’m having any trouble writing all of these for so long hours. I already told you, I don’t feel any pain anymore. So, that’s it, it’s already too late and need to get going, otherwise my appointment will be cancelled again. At the end whoever read this testimony of my life, please it’s a humble request, don’t curse me for wasting the precious time of yours, let my soul be in peace with the only few pages of my life’s story that I have written and sharing with a stranger.

           “Zindagi kaisi hai paheli haye
        Kabhi toh hasaye, kabhi ye rulaye
                             Zindagi…”

(Part - 2/2)

6th September, 2018: 8:00 PM, New Delhi

“welcome to today’s 8 PM Prime Time Show. Today we are going to celebrate the six rainbow colours and the stories behind it, the struggles and the oppressions that they have gone through. From today onwards, they are no longer criminals of this country. Now, they are the humans first and then the citizens of this country…”
     As I finished these five pages of the only life’s testimony of an unknown decedent, found inside an almirah tucked nicely inside a beautiful old handcrafted box wrapped with the rainbow flag and some jewelries and a knife with blood stains on it. I just recently moved from Guwahati, Assam to Mukherjee Nagar, Delhi for my graduation in DU and to prepare for the various civil services. After reading the story of that queer person, a sense came to my mind that I might have known this person before. There was this incident happened in my school days, where a boy kissed me in front of everyone and with no second thought and the anger reaching to its extreme, me and my boys beat him to almost death and luckily saved by the school authority and the faculties. I still regret the actions that I took instantly without knowing anything and not trying to inquire why even he did that. Because till that time I was being fully socialized into the male chauvinism. The time when I got to learn about my past mistakes and the notions and prejudices I carried because of my upbringing in a male egoistic family and society, it was too late to even ask for forgiveness and apology to him for my past misdeed and almost killing him, he already passed out from the school. And still can’t figure it out what words and emotions I want to attach after the reading the tragic life story. Only one who have gone through all of this can relate to it in a high level, but not me. I can only feel the exterior emotions and the pains that the person gone through, not the interior bruises. A question started coming to my mind over and over again – Why was I chosen to be the one to unfold the mysteries of the hidden testimony of an unknown decedent Maybe, I don’t know that I was the destiny,
waiting for me. The 8 PM Prime Time Show just started and today’s special programme was on the win of the LGBTQ community over their own rights and freedoms to live as the citizens of the country. From today, they are no longer the criminals of the society and under the laws of the country. Still my mind is not in the stable position to focus on the show and better listen to it, it is still revolving around that queer person and his story. The face of that boy who kissed and story of the unknown decedent, both of them were revolving around my eyes; definitely there is a connection to it or it just my hypothetical mind trying to convince me. As I am looking in the ceiling and focusing on the hook of the fan, I realized that there are some few wires cut down and they were still hanging. Then I was taken aback and got stunned, I saw the glimpse of the boy hanging there in naked and his penis cut down and blood flowing all over on the floor. I fell on the ground and shaking in cold and sweating in a very abrupt manner. Some who is a pure atheist and doesn’t believe in spirit and ghost or any supernatural things, it was a surreal experience. Only when I gulp down hastily a glass of water, then my senses came back to life. I calmed my mind by telling it just the reaction of overthinking of that boy and the feelings after reading the notes and hallucination and delusions got from them. Then I opened my YouTube and plugged in my earphones and played the song of Manna Dey – Zindagi kaisi hai paheli. Suddenly my heterosexual mind that I dug in some graveyard of my past, rose once again out of nowhere and told me – “aay... you are so lucky; you don’t have to go through all of these”.

-------------------------THE END------------------------