BLESSED
BE YOUR CHILD
-
Manas Bakshi (India)
They
are seen often in and around the crowded crossing points of Kolkata and its
outskirts. Two to three in number, they enter the bus, minibus as also local
train – clapping boisterously to draw the attention of the passengers. Most of
the commuters hesitatingly part with them offering one or two rupees. Luck
favours they accept such a small amount; otherwise, especially in case of
youngsters, they insist on something more. In case of travelling by a taxi or
private car, they want the glass to be lifted; if bothered not by the fare,
they go on knocking from outside till the signal remains red. And as they leave
disappointed, they hurl indecent, if not lewd, remarks towards the apparently
well-to-do people able to hire a cab. They are the transgender community
commonly known as Hizra.
Sandipan, aged around 32, employed in a
private farm was in a dark mood – though he was jubilant just three days
back when he got the news of birth of his male child. It was his brother-in-law
who communicated the news over cell phone – “Good news dada, you are now
father, and the baby – a bonny one looks like you; when are you coming with
packets full of sweets?”
“As soon as possible. Thanks for the good
news”.
It was March and there was year-ending
workload. His wife was in his father-in-law’s house before delivery; because at
his residence, there was none other than his old mother to take due care of her
in the post-delivery period. His in-laws were very accommodative, so he had no
reason to be worried over the issue; but the moment he was informed over mobile
by Monika, his wife, today that a group of Hijra had come to perform on
the occasion of child-birth playing on the tom-tom, singing, dancing and
clapping their cymbal-palms to bless the baby, Sandipan was awed into some sort
of a fearsome silence. He was neither eager nor disinterested to know what
happened afterwards but Monika continued – “You know, we were only three
persons present at that time when they were hurtling across our courtyard to
say – ‘Where are you, bring your baby – we are here’. I felt a bit shaky but my
mother said – ‘There’s no reason to be afraid – it is a tradition that
they will perform their ritual.’ So, I came out with my son and they started
performing a bit. But at the end, it was more than stupefying that they
demanded Rs. 50,000/=”
“What do you say?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Why didn’t you call your neighbours?”
“Who cares? My mother gave one new Sari,
3 kg rice. Even then they were pertinaciously unyielding to a lesser amount.”
“In that case you should have consulted
the local P.S.”
“We were afraid – lest they curse the
new-born.”
“To hell with their curse – do you belong
to the Sattva Yuga?”
“Please don’t be angry with me.”
“What else can I? Why should I bear with
their torture?”
“Cool down please – it has been arranged
somehow – but that is also an irritating episode.”
“What’s that, please complete the
episode”
“When my parents requested with folded
hands to settle for Rs. 25,000/=, they said they were not to budge an inch from
Rs. 30,000/=. It was already 1 p.m. And you know my father, diabetic and
hypertensive taking regular medicine, had to rush to the bank, 2 kms away,
to draw money but there too misfortune followed – ‘No link!’ We had to manage
it with whatever was available with our neighbours. We have to pay it off as
soon as possible.”
Sandipan could not make out what to do –
because his monthly salary was a little over Rs. 30,000/=. And he took salary
advance of Rs. 15,000/= to meet some urgent requirements at the time Monika was
admitted – because his father-in-law was a retiree; who else was there he could
ask for some financial assistance at that stage? While thoughts of running away
from an uneasy – if not discomforting – feel was perturbing him, he decided to
rest for a while in a city park instead of loitering here and there.
Not surprisingly, almost all the benches
were filled up mostly with young lovers. Mosseying for a while he got a chance
to share a bench with a couple sitting at a distance. Unmoved, they were
gossiping; but suddenly appeared before them a group of three Hizra. As usual
they asked for money. The couple retorted – “we are husband wife”.
“Then where is the cinnabar?”
“Are we answerable to you? Nowadays how
many married women prominently display it to look loud? Please go.” As they
still kept on nagging, the couple left the place in a huff. The immediate
reaction from the other side came one by one : The first one said –
“Bloody swine”. The second one – “They can spend a lot on their fiance but not
a paise for the needy one.” The third one – “O Malik, don’t spare them!”
It was then Sandipan’s turn. They
smilingly asked – “You too seem waiting for your lady-love.” Disturbed and
disgruntled over everything happening to him so far, he could not express his
ire but smilingly said – “No, I am waiting for you three”.
Stunned, they could not decide what to
say – but one of them touched his cheek uttering “O really? How sweet is our
Glaxo baby.”
Sandipan turned his face away. And there
was silence for a few minutes. Then one of them occupying a seat by his side
broke the ice – “Hey youngman, why keeping mum? Come on, speak out, we are
not that ugly to look at.” Sandipan mumbled – “But I am not in a mood.”
“Look – I’m Rakhi, she is Saira and the
last one is Sonu, and so long as your fiance is not turning up, you
can ......”
Sandipan burst out – “Why are you
disturbing me? Take this ten Rupee note and be off”.
One of them ridiculed –” Look baby, a cup
of tea costs Rs. 5/= and we are three”. It rubbed salt into his wound, and
Sandipan flared up – “How shameless are you! You who exploit ordinary people
when you get a chance without caring to know one’s financial condition. Even
here, you are nagging ...........
“Wait, wait. How many children do you
have?”
Sandipan got further annoyed at her
effrontery – “Why? Will you look after them?”
“Not that, I just want to clarify our
position – we, the nagging shameless in your eyes!”
Sandipan was not at all interested to
listen to all this but, at the same time, got tired of arguing with her. But
Rakhi appeared unblushing with her indefatigable energy – “You know, Lord Sri
Ramchandra had blessed the Kinnar clan in the Treta Yuga that
they would prevail over the Kaliyug with their dance and musical performance.
We bear their legacy, legacy of the celestial female chorister. We dance and
sing today to attract people not with glamour but our body language and gesture
for a paltry amount just to survive.”
It could not pacify Sandipan, he
thundered – “But extorting money from a middle or lower middle class family man
or begging this way is not the solution.”
“We know that, but tell me one thing –
how many of you opt today for more than one or two offspring? And there is
another problem .......”
“Please wait, and listen; we are facing
population explosion. Formerly, China was at the top but today, with over 142
crores of people, we have superseded them; we need to restrict population
growth if we are to safeguard our future generation. God is benevolent that
most of us can still secure two handful of meals a day. Will you still speak of
more and more children getting into a scrimmage over a crumb to drag on a life
only to be rotten in the bog of wretchedness and despondency?”
The neuter gender sitting next to Rakhi
joined – “No, we don’t mean that. But our source of earning is being reduced to
a minimum – you must admit. What my partner was just about to mention is
regarding the manipulative increase in our number. I can explain if you please
spare a few minutes more.”
Sandipan hesitatingly replied “Carry on
.....”
“Thank you, perhaps you can’t imagine how
painful it is to bear the brunt of being a transgender – known as Hizra. Nobody
is born at his/her choice. But the crucial problem begins at adolescence when
the riddle of horomon surges up. To me, it became prominent and perceptible at
9 or 10 years of age. It was then I too realised that I was neither a man nor a
woman. I got more and more disinterested than disallowed to stay with my family
– for it could only bring them worries, hazards and snide remarks of
outsiders.”
“But nowadays when man marries man, woman
marries woman, why didn’t you opt for the same?” – Sandipan reacted.
“Is that life – when I’m sure that, for
being one of the third or neuter gender community, I will not be able to give
birth to a child? At most, I can cook for someone, can share bed with him but
emotional pleasure never lasts long in the absence of an offspring. It is
better that I live and enjoy my life as I like with my inmates.”
“Do you think that’s the ideal way?”
Sandipan asked again.
“I’m not sure but when I find so many
persons joining the profession to earn money by undergoing surgery, why I – a
born transgender – will not follow that path I am destined by birth?”
Sandipan was in a tizzy; bewildered to
hear all this, he hurled another question – “Is your number on the increase for
occupational reason also?”
“Of course – those who are apparently
male but, impotent by birth, undergo a surgery, and a one-time investment of
Rs. 40 to 50 thousand earns them lacs per month. It is really a profitable
business in big cities like Kolkata, Delhi and elsewhere where several centres
have cropped up to carry on such operation in secret. And Noor Islam becomes
Noor Begum overnight. What is more, intruders from Bangladesh have also swelled
our number – encroaching upon our area of activities.”
There was silence for a few minutes. The
more Sandipan knew about them, the more he got convinced but could not help
asking the question he was perturbed with – “Okay, now tell me one thing :
isn’t it unkind of you to press someone for a hefty amount when he has not at
all the capacity to pay?”
This time the third one, sitting at the
corner, responded – “Look, we ask for money not to save for future but to pull
on somehow at present. While owing to family planning, you don’t have more than
one or two children in city area, in rural area people don’t bother about us;
in semi-urban areas, it is equally disappointing. What else can we do?”
“Have you ever heard the name of Manabi
Banerjee – the first trans-sexual in the country adorning the post of principal
of Krishnanagar Women’s College in West Bengal?”
“Yes, extraordinary – but that is an
exception. Honestly speaking, we are also not sitting idle. Some of us are
trying their luck as helping hands at beauty parlour, some participate as
dancers at the time of puja or similar festivals but how many stand the chance
when to be good looking with a sexy figure is the criterion there? Again, we
have a leader in our team whose share in what we daily earn is a considerable
factor.”
“Sandipan was speechless, cast a pale
look at her when she uttered – “But rest assured – paid or not as per our
demand on a child’s birth for dancing or singing – we never curse anybody nor
does our shadow cast an evil effect anywhere. Pity is, detached from family, we
are rootless and there will be none to look after us at old age; even there is
none to think of us rationally. Though we always bless everyone, from a
new-born to a young person, there is none to bless us – not even our Creator.”