The Transgender

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It was 2 minutes to half past one. He was standing beside the garden looking at his friends playing football. Some of them were sitting together and having a random chat amongst each other whilst some were sharing their tiffin. As usual, he heard the bell ringing, alarming the end of recess hour. Everyone started returning to their respective classrooms. He was the one who left behind below the old banyan tree. At last, he stood up, walked towards the sinkage and freshened himself. He was already 5 minutes late for the respective class after the break session. Still, his behaviour experienced no sense of nip. He cleared his face with his scarf and slowly set inside the classroom. No one paid attention to him. He slowly proceeded towards his desk at the last corner of the room. Even the respective faculty ignored his presence inside the class. Consecutive three periods followed by and at last the usual school hours ended. The sound of the last bell ringing perhaps stored something exciting for the fellow as he hurried down the staircase with a descent smile, running all down the lane and reached home. He lived alone in his home. No sooner had he reached home, he closed his door and threw himself over his bed. It was perhaps the best fantasy with which he ended his day.

This was his accepted reality he dealt with every day. A regular session of ignorance and personalities followed by hatred concluded his day. Not only in the school, even in the society he was looked down upon by each and every neighbours. He was a symbol of squalid selfhood. No children used to join him in the evening to play gully cricket or mud doughed football. His boring session remained confined within the four walls of isolation. His locality, friends and parents turned blind eye of him because of one argument- the reason of his gender. He belonged to the third sex. He was a transgender.

Every day he used to return from his school and relax on the bed. His tears started playing hide and seek with the categorized society outside those four dark walls. His loneliness perhaps was too silent to the regressive thoughts of progressive generation to express his thoughts. The contrast of sex exposure lied in between his wish and his daily life. And these few minutes of inarticulate yell suppressed under the wet pillow hindered the advancement of the society from being progressive. He was not the unfortunate, but it was the fortunate plight which criticized him, differentiated him being together and blamed him for being the unfortunate. It was the superstitious beliefs which integrated him to be the less important whether he be in the garden or in the classroom.

This was the reason for his innocent smile- an answer to the excitation having the school hours ended as the drop of tears gave him all the pleasure and happiness from which he was deprived of each day to every single minute. The four dark walls were his best friends which only knew about all the secrets he shared in silence each night and the conservative society accompanied him to play the game of unfortunates in the garden of procrastination.

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