Thursday, April 3, 2008

The Devil Wears Naadaa

It was another uneventful day in college. The morning was punctuated with dismal statements. Some like, "I ll have to become a cheerleader in IPL, if I dont clear PG-CET...". There were umpteen discussions on "tie the saree" day photos. This made me ponder. On why we took all that trouble every year to look good and feel unbearable at the same time. Though I am sure I achieved the latter, the former is doubtful, as most people said just one thing to me, 'wow, you look so tall in a saree!' As if I didn't know it.


I was on the way back home. I was still pondering. I was sitting next to a thickset fisherwoman in the train. And a woman entered the compartment. She was six feet tall. Her face was beautiful. She wore a lehenga-choli with lovely windows here and there. For ventilation. The dupatta unfulfilled its purpose effectively. Everyone stared at her. Oblivious to all the attention she glided to the nearby seats and spoke aloud. In a masculine voice, she booked a place for herself. The stares intensified. People sitting close to her reflexly flinched.


She was a he. A eunuch. The woman, next to whom she sat, was at the epitome of recoil. Stares became whispers. Someone had a digicam. A request for a pose. 'Say cheese'. A flash in the ladies compartment. Whispers became conversations. It was a relief. She seemed to be just like one of us. Mansi. Her profession, dancing. Not barging into trains and slapping people on their heads and begging for money. Conversations became laughter. More photos, group photos, this time. She had a cell phone. It rang 3 times. She answered them loudly, like anyone of us, in a crowded train. She had friends.


She got up to leave. The stares were back. She walked past the eyeballs and descended gracefully onto the platform. The whispers turned into jibes. Chakki. Not Mansi. Not she. Not he. Just a beautiful body in a tasteful attire. And a hope to be accepted. Something which all of us take for granted. The desire to look and feel feminine. And fill up the gender column in every form. Without a thought. Where there is no third option.

P.S. For the uninitiated, naadaa is a piece of string which holds a petticoat or lehenga around every woman's waist in this country. It is the unsung hero of why saree days are a success in KEM, year after year.

9 comments:

Ananya said...

hey really good one...
am missing my train journeys :-(

Aniruddha Agarwal said...

for some reason, u always encounter 'them'...

For the first time, sambo has written somethin infinitesimally serious. kidding.

Nice one.

Modular Form said...

is it necessary that every individual be accepted by society? is it necessary to feel "accepted" to lead a happy life?

Sam said...

it is not essential to feel accepted, ashwin, but it is shameful not to accept someone else.

Akshay G N I said...

nice....
perhaps u might find this informative too...
http://akshaygn.blogspot.com/2006/07/middle-path.html

Modular Form said...

u r right sambo :)

mgeek said...

I guess after 17th century in China, the best time for eunuchs (in fact, for any minority shunned due to misconceptions and taboos) is Now,as more and more people are realizing the joy of togetherness...

mgeek said...

Somehow this discussion on acceptance between Ashwin and Sambo reminds me of Jean Anouilh (Our entire life consists ultimately in accepting ourselves as we are...)

Anonymous said...

Sambhavi...
time to go beyond the naadaa.
waiting for your next post.

-Shraddha