As usual, the morning starts with freshness and light drizzle. The light is soft and gentle, filtered through the hazy rain. I breathe in the sweet air and relax with the moist scene outside before me. Just got up and have to get ready for work.
Looking at myself in the full-length mirror, I feel proud. I always do. Part of it is because I hold a senior position in the company and have a very comfortable income. I have other reasons to be proud – but that I will explain later.
Practically and in terms of lifestyle, I live my life as I wish. Having qualified in software engineering and worked to get promoted, my comfortable income gives me freedom – especially freedom from my conservative family.
But time is running too quickly and I have to stop musing about my life – hurry to get to work within the hour – I have to get on with my life. First step, a lovely shower to freshen up for the morning, with my burgundy nightie dropped quickly on the floor.
Oh, and that’s not like me at all! But I’m in a rush to get ready for work.
I have a complete boudoir adjoining my bedroom – practically a room of its own, not just a walk-in wardrobe. All my dainty things are there – there is space and place for everything: shoes, nightwear, dresses, gowns, lingerie and all my cosmetics except those in use at my dressing table or in the bathroom.
I can get lost in there for hours, just enjoying my collection of designs and fabrics. But, right now, I don’t have hours – just minutes!
The traffic in the central business district of my town is insane and the drizzling rain just makes it so much worse but, getting to the office 10 minutes ahead of schedule, five minutes later I’m in my own cosy office.
I am the senior software development director with a multinational IT company in India.
According to my parents and society, I was born male. But, if you ask me, I will tell you I have always known that I am a girl.
My story – the story I’m telling you now – is complicated. Full of breathtaking victories and joy, mixed with despair and pain that is always under the surface, like the dark depths of a shining lake.
I used to be jealous of my younger sister, just two years younger than me. It was hard for me to accept that she was born with all the advantages, social and physical, that I had to fight to achieve. I hated wearing boy’s clothes to school and having to attend an all-boys school. But at university, things changed for the better. I made some very good friends: Misti, Aditi, Sharmila – just close girl friends, so stop your curious wondering – and, next to my sister, Romita, they have become the closest people in my life.
Maybe you are still curious? Would you believe my first kiss ever was with a guy during the LGBT film festival at Max Muller Bhavan? Yes, I’m a girl. Come along with me as I tell you how I became all that I am today.
So now you know a little bit about me, I can add that I am not tall – about 5’4” – slim, with shoulder-length black hair. I started on hormones a couple of years back, so my face is a little feminine and I have a small bust line. At work, however, I always put on an exaggerated masculine image – walk like a body-builder and always wear shirts two sizes too big. It’s ridiculous. Awful. But necessary. The name plate on my desk and on my office door says the name that I’m known by at work: Rohit Sengupta.
But that is not my real name. That is not me.
At home, it’s a very different story. At home, I am always my real self – a girl. It’s hard to explain the joy that gives me. It is a beautiful victory. Sometimes a beautiful burden. In Newtown, where I bought a flat a couple of years ago, people know me as a girl. Maybe tomboyish, but definitely a girl. Neighbours even ask me – who is Rohit Sengupta? – and I tell them he is my brother.
My parents could not understand or accept who I am or my desires and needs. They practically disowned me. Worse than that, they would not accept who I am. That’s worse than disowning. It’s an attempt to erase my being.
What matters most is that I have a firm bond with my sister, Romita, and my friends come to visit every Friday and stay for the weekend when we can all go crazy on girl things like cooking new recipes, talking books or going shopping in the fancy malls that are everywhere in Kolkata. Being a girl isn’t just looking like one. It’s living as one. Living a girl’s life – which is so different.
Romita’s husband, Kinshuk, is completely cool about who I am and is with the DCP Crime Branch in our city. He has always treated me like an older sister and I enjoy having him around – he’s just like a kid himself. I always tease him, asking how he can deal with criminals with such childish charm.
That’s all about me for now. Today, the morning drizzle is lovely. July is my least favourite month, with its heavy rains but rain at any other time gives me goosebumps – it affirms my womanhood. Sometimes, I just sit on my balcony, gazing at the horizon and getting wet. It makes me forget all the pain and abuse in my past. Tears are lost in the rain, which is a gentle healer of all the wounds and scars I carry inside.
At work, we are busy with a new project – support for a new ecommerce company – I’m busy checking a number of solution options my staff have sent me. I shortlist four of them and tell my secretary, June, to set up a team meeting for after lunch, including the marketing guys.
Later, the whole team is in the boardroom. I know every person except a new face on the marketing team. Suket Sharma, our head of ecommerce marketing, tells me he is Gaurav Krishnan, recently promoted from our Bangalore office and now here at head office in charge of the marketing for the new project.
Nice to meet you, Mr Krishnan, I say, as I introduce him to my software team: Madhuri, Jighna, Purnendu, Simon, James, Arko – a small, efficient team of really good people.
“Gaurav has achieved a lot in Bangalore, which is why we’re glad to have him here for this new project at head office,” says Suket.
“We need to work closely with marketing on this one,” I say. “My team will give marketing the best solution to win the client and keep them.”
I explain to everyone that our main focus is on building an effective backup system for the client, myshop.com, and that I have settled on a choice of four out of the 10 design proposals submitted. We have a typical challenge. We can present all four designs to the client but we have to explain that, if they want it hack-proof, they have to put more budget into security features.
Gaurav asks immediately what the cost increase will be. My precise answer is that it will depend on which design they choose and how far they need to go with security. He asks if he can have some time to discuss it with his boss and then see me again after that.
Later, Gaurav comes to my office and we work on the ideas together. Time passes quickly – before we knew it, it’s 7:30pm. Realising that, I had to ask Gaurav to take a break because I had other urgent work to do at home. So he asks if he can come with me because he needs the project finished as soon as possible to get the client’s approval.
I’m not sure why, but I agree.
I have to get a parcel from a shop on the way home. Luckily, the mall is just a 15 minute walk from my flat. It’s a dress that my sister and I found on a shopping expedition – it just needed alterations. On the way into my apartment block, the watchman greets me as usual with a respectful good afternoon, madam.
Gaurav looks at me with a thousand questions on his face.
I pull him into the lift quickly.
We go into my home office and carry on working. But I can see the questions are still there, waiting for answers.
Gaurav asks about my wife and I tell him I’m not married. He mentions that my flat doesn’t look like a bachelor’s flat. I explain my sister and a regular maid take care of that.
We carry on working but, every now and then, I notice Gaurav just looking at me. A few times, I look at him and see his eyes are lost in mine. What is he thinking?
By 10:30, Gaurav says he has to leave – he has a long trip to get home. I offer to make him dinner but he politely declines and goes, with an air of hesitation and still those unanswered questions hanging in the air.
I change into a floral satin nightie and start cooking for myself.
The spicy scent and warmth of the food makes me feel comfortable and safe. Then I realise that I felt the same way while working with Gaurav – why?
I make a cup of coffee for myself and go to the balcony to breathe and think.
It is raining heavily.
Going back in time…
Six years ago, on a similar rainy day, Rohit – neither a boy nor a girl by appearance but in her heart only a girl, was standing on a road in the rain with nothing to her name. No bag, no money and just a gold necklace around her neck that she needed to sell.
This was the moment of complete loneliness. It was isolation. She had nothing of this world – except the necklace – and the world knew nothing of her. This was the turning point. In that moment of complete isolation, she started to find herself and know that, whatever happened, it was her actions that were in control, not the world’s actions towards her.
But where to sell the necklace at midnight?
This girl had no plan, no destination – had she made a mistake to run away from home?
No, she was tired of trying to make her stubborn parents happy. She tried so many times – and failed. They could not understand that she was a girl.
Worse yet, they tried to force her to be a boy and tried to convince her to live like a boy to make them proud. When she resisted, they became violent, abusive – torturing her and placing her under house arrest, locked in a store room in the house.
Unable to see the sun, she wanted to die. But her sister brought her food three times a day.
Only her sister knew and could see that Rohit is Ronita. Their politician mother and businessman father could not see or accept it.
But the two sisters became best friends. Sisters, yes, but in many ways Ronita was like a daughter to her younger sister. There are female bonds that cannot be broken. At least she had found that truth.
And then came the evening when her sister, with everyone asleep in the house, left the doors open and Ronita escaped.
That is how she found herself here – walking miles to get to the other side of the city. No money, no home, no food – maybe no future.
But free at last. That devastating isolation gave her the one thing she needed – complete freedom.
While I’m lost in these memories, the doorbell rings. Without hesitation, I open the door – everyone in the building knows me as a girl – but it’s Gaurav.
He’s completely soaked from the rain. And shocked.
I can see what he’s thinking – is this the same person I was with a few minutes ago?
Before, with hair tied back and a man’s suit but now with her hair falling free about her shoulders and in a satin nightie?
I can see the realisation beginning – this is a girl!
This time, his eyes met mine and were held there – lost in wonder.
Over all these thoughts, Gaurav smiled at me.
“Sorry! I couldn’t find a taxi and came back to borrow an umbrella!”
This is an awkward situation – but tempting and exciting. Unlike my usual, business-like self, I’m confused and struggle to make a decision.
What if Gaurav exposes my “secret” at work? What is best to do right now?
It’s so much easier to make decisions at work, where I am in control. This situation is not under my control. Not completely.
While I’m used to trusting my team to do their work – and do it well – this is different. Dangerously so.
But my life has taught me to take chances and rely on my own abilities. So I put on a brave face and offer for Gaurav to stay in one of my several spare bedrooms for the night. There are three, in fact, used by the girls when they stay over at the weekends.
Gaurav accepts the offer, with warm gratitude. I show him his room for the night.
“Would you like some chicken for dinner?” I ask.
“Oh, yes, please,” he says. “But I need some dry clothes first, if you have?”
I find him some spare clothes that Romita’s husband left the last time he was here – just shorts and a T-shirt. That will have to do.
“Are these your boyfriend’s clothes?” he asks, with a nervous smile.
“No!” I laugh. “My sister’s husband!”
We finally have a friendly – maybe slightly romantic – dinner, with lots of small talk but no more difficult questions.
At the end, exhausted, I say goodnight to Gaurav and sigh when I get back to the privacy of my own bedroom.
My bedroom is sacred. Violet and pink are the dominant colours, surrounding and complementing a similarly toned, heart-shape queen-size bed.
One wall is completely a set of French windows framed with pink and vanilla curtains that offer a wonderful, 16-floor view of the city below. The opposite wall is a huge bookcase with TV and music systems taking up part of it.
I look around this room which is so precious to me, with all its possessions both practical and sentimental.
And I panic.
This thing with Gaurav – wherever it leads – can lead to destruction.
If it goes wrong, I can lose my job and all my property – car, flat, everything.
I sit gazing out the French windows and cry quietly.
What I didn’t know was that Gaurav was also having restless thoughts.
As for Gaurav’s thoughts..?
He can’t believe what he has just seen. He thinks to himself about how girly and beautiful I am – although he knew me first as a guy. Now, he realises that I am not a guy at all. I am the beautiful girl he sees. He can’t sleep with all these whirling thoughts.
He tries to do some work. Gets thirsty. Heads off for the kitchen to see what’s in the fridge.
Passing my room, he hears me crying, faintly. He sees the door is not closed.
He walks in carefully and quietly.
I don’t hear him or see him at first. He sees me sitting and crying, framed in silhouette by the diamond lights of the city below.
I suddenly realise he is with me.
Then he sits facing me, not saying a word.
“Please don’t say anything about me…” is all I can say. I’m crying. Like a waterfall.
“Your secret is safe with me,” Gaurav says quietly and firmly. “And you look beautiful, despite the tears.”
I cry more and close my eyes to compose myself.
I feel his lips on mine, gentle and sweet. Something in me explodes. Or melts. Or both. I’ve kissed before but nothing like this. Every cell in me is trembling and yielding.
I’m still trying to cope with this wave of emotion as Gaurav suddenly leaves the room. I then hear my front door open and close.
Is that it?
I’m still panicking – and crying – I certainly cannot sleep. I put on some soft Moroccan music. Soothing. Distracting.
And Gaurav?
He walks along the road.
His mind is spinning with questions.
All about Rohit – Ronita. He knows the right name but old habits continue.
Questions about his own sexuality – does this mean he is gay? No – can’t be. He’s 6’2” and a member of a cricket team. He was always popular with girls. Good with girls.
Then why did he kiss her? Bisexual?
At this time of night, it’s a long wait before he finds a cab to get home.
An hour of questions that he can’t yet answer.
He hardly realises it when the cab gets to his place. Lost in thought.
At home, he sits on his bed. Typical bachelor apartment – mess everywhere. Untidy. Like his thoughts. He tries to find answers online – this is a new world to him. After several hours and nearly a packet of Marlboro, he grabs some sleep and the alarm goes off too soon.
For Gaurav, it’s a new day – in every possible sense of the expression.
Ronita wakes up with the sun shining. It’s a beautiful morning but then I remember all that happened last night. I’m panicking again. But I follow my usual schedule, my usual routine – and get to the office still trembling. Nervous.
This is like my job interview three years ago.
The surprise is huge. There is a huge bouquet of lilies on my desk. I call June and ask what’s going on?
“It’s that nice Mr Krishnan from marketing – he sent them,” says June. “He also sent you a message.”
I check my messages. How could I forget that? I always do that first. But not today.
The message tells me it’s great to work with such a wonderful person – and can we carry on with the project later?
I’m still nervous but I ask June to set up a meeting in an hour’s time.
I’m drifting – not focusing on work. There are messages from Romita – she’s going to the flat and has a key to get in. Also from Misti – she will pick up Aditi and Sharmila and be at the flat by 7pm.
Suddenly June calls to say that Gaurav is here for the meeting. An hour has passed as if it were a minute!
“Send Mr Krishnan in, June,” I manage to say.
“Good morning,” he smiles.
“Good morning, Mr Krishnan,” I reply quietly.
“I hope this is good news,” he begins. “Late last night, I worked out that we can speed up the backup system – and cut some costs in the process.”
“I… didn’t know you are a software engineer,” I say, surprised.
“Actually, I went from a BTech in software development on to an MBA in marketing. Marketing offered better opportunities, so I stayed with that but still have a developer background.”
“OK, show me…” I say.
Gaurav pulls his chair up close to me. We’re working on the software but all I can notice is his aftershave and his charm. I can see he sees me as Ronita – not Rohit Sengupta. I’m flattered and still nervous.
“This code looks very helpful,” I say. “I’ll tweak it and send it through to the test team. I’m impressed!”
Gaurav smiles and gets ready to leave.
But then he turns and speaks.
“Sorry…” he says.
“For what, Mr Krishnan?” I ask.
“Yesterday, I came back to your home without warning or polite prior notice.”
“That’s OK…” I smile.
“And, by the way, you are safe with me – no disclosure will happen.”
Instead of direct reply, I change the topic slightly.
“Thank you for the flowers, Mr Krishnan – they are beautiful!”
“Nor more than you, m’am…” he says and then leaves.
Those last words struck me dumb. I would not be able to reply, had he stayed. He called me “ma’m”!
Luckily, I don’t have much other work today – just following up on older development projects. This is really lucky. I’m lost. Can’t focus. Why can’t I concentrate on work?
Before I realise it, it’s lunch time. June calls and asks what she can order to have sent to my office.
“I think I’ll go to the canteen today,” I reply.
“Is everything alright?” June asks, obviously concerned.
“I’m fine…” I answer, but not really meaning it.
I’ve never done this before in three years here. Going to the canteen by myself. It’s not that I don’t like sitting with juniors and other people. It’s my natural caution – I always worry that I might let the act slip and people might start guessing.
But today, I need some air – and I’m becoming fearless. Last night, I was crying because the sky might fall. Today, I’m calm and content – but still nervous about where I’m going with Gaurav.
I order a coffee and grilled chicken sandwich, find a quiet corner seat. Around me, staff are sitting together – boys and girls. Nobody joins me but that’s because I’m one of the five company directors. Fear or respect? Who knows? It’s not important.
I’m only looking for one person and suddenly he is there – tall and handsome, gym fit, serious but magnetic expression. Could this be turning into something real? I know the stigma and the danger of office scandals. But everything is telling me the risk is worth it.
It’s not that I’m innocent or some sort of wallflower.
I’ve had many liaisons over the last few years – all from socialising at pubs and clubs with my dearest friends. I’m lost in thought when suddenly he is standing next to me and asking if he can join me.
“Of course,” I reply. There is no issue with a junior joining a director if they are working together on a project – it’s a working lunch, after all.
“Sorry to disturb you,” he says, smiling slightly. “You usually sit alone?”
“It’s nothing – I’m used to loneliness…”
“But maybe it’s not enjoyable?” he asks.
“Oh, I have spent most of my life alone – it seems normal,” I answer.
“May I ask a candid question?” he ventures. I nod approval.
“Are you a boy or a girl?” he blurts out quietly.
“What do you think?” I ask in return. I think he sees the sadness in my eyes.
“After last night…” he begins. “It’s hard to tell. I see you as a girl. Please answer my question?”
“I think you know – I am a girl. But born as a guy.”
“Transsexual?”
I nod agreement.
“I’d… like to know more about you,” he says, hesitantly. “Would you join me for a drink after work?”
“That sounds nice,” I reply.
“Today, I mean,” he adds.
“Oh I can’t do it today – it’s the weekend,” I say.
“Are… you trying to avoid me?”
“No. Not at all. But after a week of work and living a fake personality, my weekends are a special time for me – to be me!”
“May we make it a date, instead?”
“Not during the weekend. My sister and my friends will be coming over. They know the real me. It will have to be Monday.” He looks sad.
“OK, but, if you like, you can join us?”
He has a huge smile. “I can be there by 7pm,” he happily answers.
“Now let’s get back to work,” I say.
“OK, ma’m.” he smiles back.
“By the way, please don’t call me that here at work,” I blush as I ask.
“OK,” he agrees, with a hint of a twinkle in his eye.