Phone rang. Aman was on the line." Riya, I want to talk to you. I am not sure what will happen after this. I am not sure if you will be able to accept me as a friend after you hear this. But I do not want to hide this from you." I was getting tensed. "Aman, whatever it is, please talk it out. I can’t take this tension". Did he kill someone?
"I am gay".
A few minutes of silence on both sides. I was surprised but not shocked.
"Aman, I am glad that you have considered me as someone close to you. I can accept you as you are. If there is a good soul in you then that is all that matters".
"Thanks Riya. Thanks for understanding. I never thought that you would be able to accept me. But what made you think this way?"
"Someone. Long back." I responded. A disoriented butterfly fluttered through my memories.
1
There was a time when they were a part of scary stories. We were told that they kidnap kids. That they steal things. That they curse. 'Hijras'. That is how we called them. That is how they were known to me, a nine year old then.
Rajan was his name. He lived in my locality. He was called 'Ammaayi* Rajan' for his feminine nature. His voice, his body language and his walk made people laugh at him. He swayed to both sides. He fluttered like a butterfly. Boys mocked his walk. They mocked his talk. He would then shout at them. They would run away. I was curious about him for he was not like the usual people that I used to see around me. But I was scared that he might kidnap or curse me. I would hide somewhere and stare at him. At the dull and scary butterfly.
I was returning from school with my sister. Got down at the bus stop. Our house was a ten minutes walk from there. Our speed would change based on situations. If we were hungry we might reach home in less than five minutes. If we had got our score-card and if the marks were less, then we might take more time than usual. That day we saw a lot of familiar and unfamiliar faces on the road. Heard dad’s name being mentioned by one of them. There was a big crowd near the gate. There was an ambulance. Dad was being taken to hospital. He had fallen off the balcony.
Days of shock, fear and uncertainty awaited us. It was a sudden blow to our life, especially to our mom. A lady with two little kids. With very little support from those who she had held so close in her heart.
Dad slowly got better. His health improved except for the fracture on his leg which needed time to mend. He was on bed-rest. Amma had to juggle between her responsibilities. She had to nurse our dad. She had to take care of her job, she was a teacher. She had to handle household chores. She had to look after two kids. That was a time when there were no mobile phones and ATMs. She had to reach everywhere. But she never complained. She just went on. She worked without rest. Life was a roller-coaster ride.
I saw someone at the gate. Rajan. He stood there for some time perplexed and left. Why did he come? May be he knew that our dad is unwell. Is he planning to rob us? Will he kidnap us? I was scared.
The next day again, those perplexed eyes were peeping in through the gate. I could hear my heart beating fast. I prayed for him to leave. No, he didn't. He opened the gate. He came in, swaying and fluttering. He rang the bell. I called out to Amma."He is coming! That Ammmmaaaayi Raaaajaaan!!" Amma went to the door. There he stood. I hid behind Amma and peeped from behind. "Teacher, I heard that Sir is not keeping well." He said. So he knew about dad's accident. Will he hurt us? Should I run to someone for help? I was breathing fast. Faster. Even more faster."Teacher, if I could be of any help please let me know. May be I could go purchase things or I could do some household chores." Amma was surprised. I was confused. I still saw him with contempt.
2
Amma took his help in buying provisions. He would come home to take the list from Amma and go for purchase. He always asked us, "Children, you need sweets or something?" My sister was about to say a "Yes" once, when I shouted "No". "He might drug us", I told her in a low voice. He heard that and still tried to have a smile on his face. But we were scared to smile back. He tried talking to us but we got ourselves hidden behind the door. So he always kept a distance from us. He would buy things, ring the bell, leave it at the door and would go stand a bit far. And he wouldn't take any tip. But my parents made sure that he was well treated and was well paid.
One day he asked Amma, "Teacher, I would like to see Master once. Is it Ok?" Amma had no issues, but I had. I kept pulling her dress. I kept nodding my head to let her know that I was not fine with that. She ignored me. She welcomed him inside. He went to dad's room. I closely followed him. But kept a distance. He stood near dad's bed. "Sir, don’t worry. You will be fine. You will be able to walk very soon. Everything will be alright. If you need any help, you may please let me know. I will do what I can". Dad smiled at him. The previous day I had witnessed something different. Our relative had visited him. Sitting next to my dad, he told Amma, "It will be tough for him to recover from this. After some more days, bed sores will develop. So keep the required medicines ready. "I learned a new word that day. Bed sore. "What is that Amma?" In response, I saw her lips shivering. Tears rolled down my dad's eyes. Now I saw those same eyes smiling. That smile meant a lot to us.
Rajan’s ways were totally new to me. A generous gesture from unexpected hands. From a Hijra who is believed to do nothing but evil. From someone who did not mean anything to us until then. At a time when the so-called perfect men and women of the world were of little help to a woman in distress. His little deeds of kindness meant so much to us.
I watched him walk away. While he closed
the gate, I waved him a good bye. He returned a surprised look. I smiled. He smiled
back. I realized that smile can heal wounds. Unseen wounds.
He slowly stepped in and changed my perspectives about many things around me. He gave me new meanings. Meaning of selflessness. Meaning of empathy. Meaning of fair treatment to fellow beings. Meaning of compassion. He taught me how to treat others. Or rather how well to treat others. He taught me that a transgender is a human being. He taught me that a transgender is no less than the ladies and gentlemen in the society. Or in fact he stood much above them. No other person have I found to be as perfect as him. The dull butterfly seemed to be a colourful, vibrant one now.
3
Today, while writing this I rang up Aman. I wanted to let him know that I was writing about him. Meanwhile he was waiting to share another exciting news with me. His boyfriend has been accepted by his parents. May be they could realize that their butterfly was not a scary one. May be they now saw how colorful he is. Small steps of change. But it means a lot to many souls. To many great souls. To many butterflies. The problem is ours, not theirs. For we don't see their hues until they spread their glowing wings and reach out to us.
* Ammaayi- Aunt (in Malayalam)
Picture courtesy: https://ua.depositphotos.com, https://gettyimages.in, https://thenewsminute.com
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