The rickshaw wala asked if he could onboard another passenger. Trampling
on my hesitant approval, he came sat next to me. Cosied up on a cycle
rickshaw as it peddled forward.
I think there are no bigger signs
for a feeling as ones when we are tentative – the fidgeting, the
clamminess, the unpurposeful whistling, the show of looking the other
way. – there’s just so much, given away so easily. And I am sure I did
too. For I was excessively aware that I was sitting next to an eunuch
but more so because of what he asked next.
Darr lag rha hai? (Are
you scared?) I nodded away – no – managing a nervous half-smile and a
plastered silence. But our conversation escalated when he admitted his
next sentence – hum bhi toh insaan he hain (We too are humans). I shot a
glance at him, at his face. The 14-year old me didn’t know any better.
But when I retrospect today, I wonder what would have hurt more – to
have someone look at you with un-bargaining denial or with sympathetic
acceptance.
Our laughter never really rose above the differential
rungs of our identities. But it did travel. Briefly, be it may. I had
rallied the rickshaw for only a kilometre so I got down first but what
he said next is why I am telling this story today.
Throughout the
ride, he referred to himself as a collective noun – “hum bhi toh insaan
hi hain” (We too are humans) – but as I was leaving, he finally let
that baggage go. He spoke about himself, umambiguously identifying as a
female. In that moment as the rickshaw was trailing away, I saw her find
her courage and spare me the stomach for it. For she understood, her
rebellion didn’t have to be at war with my mind. At least, not back in
2009.
But, it is 2020 now.
More than a decade since I have held this story inside.
More than a decade since I watched her silhouette battle and then disappear under the streetlamp.
More than a decade for our collective conscience to rise.
More than a decade since I heard that hauntingly existential cry for approval.
More than a decade. At least, a decade.
It’s time!
Dear Kabira, I don't know what's perfect, the lyrics or the feelings you say which I fail to express. Sometimes you meet some songs that melt you from the places you are afraid to touch. Re Kabira Maan Jaa (रे कबीरा मान जा) Re Faqeera Maan Jaa (रे फ़कीरा मान जा) Aaja Tujhko Pukaare Teri Parchhaaiyan (आजा तुझको पुकारे तेरी परछाईयाँ) Your heart just can't stop beating for the lines that play with all the untouched memories you have. Loneliness engulfs you, it tears you part by part and this song just makes you feel everything you hide from the world. This song calls you to be back home and realise your home needs you. It questions why do you want to wander for answers when your home is right there in front of you? Your shadow is calling you back. Come home. Tooti Chaarpaai Wohi (टूटी चारपाई वही) Thandi Purvaai Rasta Dekhe, (ठंडी पुरवाई रस्ता देखे) Doodhon Ki Malaai Wohi (दूधों की मलाई वही) Mitti Ki Suraahi Rasta Dekhe (मिट्टी की सुराही रस्ता देखे) This song gives beautiful me
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