The festive season gets everyone excited. The exuberance is visible everywhere – well decorated shops and even more visible in the brightly lit faces. This is that time of the year when malls become second homes to shopaholics like me. The colours in the festive collections, overpower the exorbitant price that each price tag bears. Another day, another shop, I was high on shopping like any other day. The stimulating part of shopping is the small competition between various shoppers for choosing the best piece from the shop (Sometimes, the piece in the hands of another shopper appears to be the most beautiful or liked one in the entire showroom). Isn’t it?
One day, as I got busy browsing through the sarees in a shop for the upcoming Diwali festival, I noticed a tall, fair and good looking young boy (he might have been in his late teens) looking at the variety of dresses in awe for quite some time. He was dressed to perfection in his Olive green tee shirt and blue jeans. He seemed to have been equally surprised at the options we women have, to pick from. As he came closer he started flipping through each saree. He finally stopped at a beautiful red and yellow piece of saree that many of us were eyeing. I could hear some aunties around appreciating him being such a responsible guy. Ah! When there are men who detest to even accompany women for shopping here was another perfect man in making, they discussed. “Chamathu guy”, I murmured to myself.
As he picked and walked away with that saree we were almost getting back to our business. The most admired guy of the moment walked towards the centre of the crowd. He wasn’t walking towards the billing. Was he moving to the centre to meet some relative/friend who he has accompanied? As I observed, he opened the saree, draped it like a professional from the pleats to pallu, loosely over the rough clothes, matching the red saree with the olive green tee shirt like a blouse. No, he was moving towards the biggest mirror in the shop. He clicked a selfie of himself, returned the saree to one of the sales persons of the shop and walked away confidently.
There were some murmurs again. Was he playing a prank on all of us? Was he just being “funny” in front of us? Somehow I wasn’t convinced that this was just for fun (As if it were my business). He just cross-dressed in front of a crowd. Was he a transgender? Was he homosexual? Was he a person in search of gender identity? We never knew. Neither do we know what he goes through every day; every moment, nor if he is torn between tee-shirt/blue jeans and sarees. We had a flurry of questions in mind. It didn’t matter. We anyway got back to our business just like we always do.
To be continued…