Showing posts with label girl. Show all posts
Showing posts with label girl. Show all posts

Tuesday, 24 December 2019

Beautiful you by Tabassum Nasrat

18:57

Alright. So, we have seen all those ads and TV series and movies. Everything that promotes fairness and how not being fair is a curse has been portrayed every now and then very prominently. Let’s be done with that already, can we? Enough with those unreal beauty standards defined by the society. Let’s face it, being fair or tall or having that “not really making sense” figure does not really get us anywhere in life. It is just another reason to point a finger at you, by people who really have nothing better to do. That’s it. That thin waist, that fair skin, and all that, that is not mandatory. It cannot make you feel good. If you are rotting within nothing can make you feel good. It is just like the nature you see. Some like the beaches, some find the mountains beautiful, some like the cities, and some just like the country side. They are all beautiful nonetheless. Let us take another example. How about we take some food into account. Dessert maybe? A chocolate cake? I loved chocolate cake. And the chocolate flavor, a lot. It was sumptuous to me, divine, love, orgasm. With time I got over it. Now I look at it, it is beautiful, but I would not pick that in the blink of an eye. But it did not lose its taste. It is still a delicacy sought by millions. It did not stop being made because I stopped liking it. It is still there, existing, flourishing, coming out with a better version of itself every now and then, not to impress me. Not really. We are not some restaurant or café who need great customer reviews to sell.

I might be expected to write something magical, that will suddenly magically touch the right nerve, and everything will change, and you will believe in yourself and start loving yourself. No! After reading millions of posts, poems, watching videos, I still could not. I could not believe that I am beautiful. I could not believe that I have qualities. I have been told, by many, morally pushed up and morally pulled down. And guess what? I was more inclined toward the pull down. So no, it would not happen in a day, probably not in a week, not in a month, not in a year either. Because it is the minuscule steps you take. It is how you decide to do it anyway even if you are bringing yourself down. I was a fat kid with nerdy looks. And I never cared. I did not bother to look good or put efforts. I was busy being a kid, a teenager, creating chaos in the class, being mischievous with friends, preparing for exams, learning how things work, setting up goals. I was not a very confident person back then either. Not at all. But I did not see the need for validation from someone else. I did not need to look good to someone else. But we grow up, we see more, we get into the society more, and that is when things got to me. I felt fat and I felt a misfit (still feel it). I want to grow out of this, but I cannot because I see people defining beauty standards and I cannot seem to be catching up. Those flawless skin, shiny hair, smooth hands, sexy dresses, those curves. I cannot seem to have any. Or maybe I just do not see me that way. To me I am still the fat nerd. The ugly tomboy. I have friends who constantly remind me that I am a quality human, a rare species (not bragging). But nothing gets through to me. I look into the mirror, I only see flaws. Being fair might not be my beauty definition. Mine could include a different list. Every time I want to get hold of it, it slips out of my hand. Imagine my despair! But that is probably because I have been waiting for validation. Validation from people who I don’t know, who don’t know me, who don’t care, who probably are not even aware of my existence. People who “don’t matter”.

I matter! My validation to me should matter. People cannot find you or me beautiful, that is up to them. “Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder”, heard that so many times. So why blame ourselves when they cannot see us beautiful. Why blame our body and tire our minds when our eyes too seem to be not working well? Why be so tough on ourselves? I have glasses on, I am myopic. Every time I go to an eye specialist the power of my glasses only increases. That should have taught me how bad my eyes are. I cannot even see my own reflection properly, I cannot even read something that is 3 meters away and there I sit judging myself. How is that fair? I see women walking by and I find them, each one of them beautiful and confident and so bold and shy and everything nice. And I look at myself and think why I couldn’t be that strong to feel that way about myself, to send the same vibe out to someone who is probably killing themselves over their looks. See, the problem lie in the roots.
But I am constantly trying. Not by trying beauty products, nope! But by eating right to keep me healthy. I am not trying to woo away the guys with my looks and throwing some unnecessary bone to them to draw attention, but constantly trying to get my mind away from negativity I have created about myself within me. I am not investing largely on some doctor to give me “society described look”, but I am going online and talking to people about our bodies, how it functions, how it changes with age, the hormonal effects, the nutrition requirements and I am grooming myself that way. I have spent a lot on beauty products, and trying to look good, and wanting to look good without wearing any make up. But no concealer and liner or beauty cream can make me feel good, but me! No beauty products really worked, unless you are using something to cool your skin, you know the refreshing feel in the summers. There I was successful. But otherwise it was a waste. Now I try and invest on my health instead. In pampering myself, getting the much-needed hair spa now and then, a nice mani-pedi, a soothing massage. I work out and I push my body to heal in the process. I have grown mentally and physically. I have grown so much to be able to move another girl and see beyond these beautifully and carefully designed standards. Yes, I am still failing to make myself feel that till now. And it’s okay, because the first thing is to be aware that the outside world does not get to validate me, unless it is my performance review at my job which determines my hike. I am my own validation and I know it. I just must work towards it.

So the point is you don’t need an hourglass figure to rock a bikini, you just need the bank balance (or an angel to gift it to you *wink*). So, go buy that dress that you liked and weren’t sure what society would think, or let your teeth sink into that cake that you love, then go for that run you need to feel liberated. Eat, sleep, exercise and invest in yourself, in what you want and not what the society thinks. Learn that language you love, learn MMA, get bruised, get rough or get married to the one you feel worth it and be happy making home with him/her. It is all on you. Grow as a person. Not for anyone else. Learn to be able to look at yourself in the mirror and smile and be flustered at the way you look at yourself with a desire to love yourself as if a lover so passionate. You are not born to make others feel good, or just to be married. You are not a baby making machine either. You are a lot more. You are a miracle. You are a blessing in every shape, size and color. You are beautiful and no magic words can make you feel that unless you let it break through to you. I am working on it. You should too. Do not look at the shiny hair or the flawless skin or the sexy dress next time a pretty lady passes you by. Instead see how she feels confident about herself, how she cares not about anyone, look how her boldness makes her beautiful. Look at that, take that from her. How she simply slays it. Because she is about that. It is tough, I get it. But you will never get there if you keep taking the wrong steps instead of the right. Even the biggest discoveries in science has room for variables. A healthy body and a healthy mind are your CONSTANT!

Let’s stop promoting the fairness cream and those supplements to enhance your assets. Let’s promote the girl now, let’s promote the women. Let’s promote Her. 

Story by: Tabassum Nasrat
In frame: Tabassum Nasrat

Saturday, 30 November 2019

Raw Rage by Tabassum Nasrat

20:08

Wednesday, 8 November 2017

Yes, I am an Intersex. - II by Juhi Meshram

19:15

In continuation of 'Yes, I am an Intersex.- I' 
http://www.darshatha.in/2017/10/yes-i-am-intersex.html

It was another clinic. And! I wondered why she pulled me out of one hospital just to push me into another. In last few days my whole world had turned upside down and nobody was telling me what why when. My parents wanted me to take the surgery so I did, my mother wanted me to escape it so I did, they wanted me to not ask anything so I did. But I was not a puppet, I still am not. How could anyone treat me like that. I was standing there at the middle of clinic reception and all these thoughts surrounded me all at once. I freaked out and just ran out getting rid of maa’s hand. As soon as I reached the main gate running across  the garden, I felt a strong hold on my hand that stopped me. I turned to see maa. I was crying so bad that I couldn’t hear her screams. She must have held me tight because I had no control over my body. I was fighting to get out of there all at once. It is then that her words came out, “I will tell you everything, all at once.... but then you have to promise me that You will come here with me... promise?” I calmed a bit and then agreed. I had no choice. Maa took a cab to Mid-day cafe. She was continuously talking to me. At one point, I asked her, “how do I trust you... you have lied before” and she didn’t freak out at me but replied generously, “hear me first and then trust your instincts. I won’t ask you for anything then.” 
The aroma of coffee and a less crowded space relaxed my body but my mind was not resting, “would you please.. now tell me...? Everything.” She ordered a sandwich and coffee first, may be she was checking on my patience and then she chose to tell me, “you were inside me and everything was normal. We didn’t know your gender but we did know about our baby. Everything was fine. Your papa gave me all the love and care. And then! You were born. And I cannot tell you how happy I was. But! Then there were some issues....mm... you are fifteen. I should tell you. Nimmi! Nimisha! When you were born, you were a normal child. You were healthy. And doctors told us that you were girl. And...”
“What do you mean they told you... I am a girl” I interrupted but she didn’t mind it.
“Hunny, how do you know You are female? How do I know? Yes there are majorly two type of bodies and the two types have different parts, different vocal quality, different genitals and different chromosome that lead to different experiences in life due to physical infrastructure. These two types are attracted towards each other. So we call them male and female. We. For our convenience. God hasn’t assigned it. God, or you can say our creator. We have named Him God. And we want these body types to behave the way we want. We call ourself society and set rules for these bodies. I could be a male and your father could be female... if the society had said so. So in that sense...you were a female. But this is how we understand humans. But we are small people and the creator has a lot to offer us. He haven’t just created these two types.... you have heard of transgenders,right? What do you know about them?” She asked me and I was so frightened, “ their gender identity is different from what they have been assigned”. She replied quickly,” perfect! This is what you have read. This is right but very brief. Like we know two body types namely male and female. But there are not just body types. Males and females brains are differently wired, their external genitals, internal, there chromosomes, everything... everything together make them what they are called. But transgenders or more specifically trans man do not have the combinations similar to normal man and a trans woman do not have everything similar to normal woman. That is why we call them that. And we don’t even accept them the way we should. This is the reason you see them begging in the traffic signal and trains. We take their blessings but don’t take them. The families they are born to, don’t accept them and leave them to do all this.”
I got her point, “If we worship our creator then we should accept all its creation including animals,birds and transgenders.” And she went excited,” exactly! And may be we are getting it all wrong. May be, there are not just two body types. Yes what we call male and female are in majority but then transgenders are not made by mistake. They are just the third type of human we don’t understand. And have you heard about LGBT?”
I was quick to reply this time,” yes... lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender”
She was happy, “great! But this is what we commonly know in india. But the whole study says it is LGBTQIA.  You know the initial four and then... Queer, Intersex and Asexual.” 
“What are these?”, I had entirely forgot about my problem till then.
She started again, “queer is the type of human who don’t know their gender identity or sexual orientation or both. Intersex is a whole different thing, and asexual are people who have no sexual desires. Now these are different types of human we don’t consider normal but they exist normally, to a lesser number but they do.”
“What is about Intersex people?” I questioned.
“Intersex people are born differently from what we call a regular ‘male’ or ‘female’, they might have variations of chromosome, gonads, sex harmon or genitals. The real problem in India is, we don’t even know the existence of these variations in human being, we are still struggling with accepting LGBT, that America has done decades ago. It will take time for us to understand the other Q, I and A. It’s okay to take time, but the more time we take the more they will suffer.” 
I knew every bit she said was right,”the reason you are telling me all this is because I belong to one of these, Do I?” It is then that I realised we might be talking about my problem.
“Yes. Now that I told you everything that I had I should tell you about your body. So, you were born normal but with time we got to know you had some issues at least we took it that way. Your vagina had a very small opening, you were small but we decided to consult doctor. You went through some tests.... and what we got to know after that completely shocked us. You went through test to know your internals, and...” , she held my hand,”you had no ovaries and uterus, instead you had testes and you deserve to know that you still have them.” I took my hands back or my senses do that I don’t know but I was moved. But maa didn’t stop, “nimmi, you were patient and understandable when I was telling you about these people but why are you crying now when you know you are one of them” I was crying, I was crying really bad,” I don’t know... I think we behave sane only when it is not related to us, and all the other times we freak”. There was a smile in her face. She
Came to my side and kissed my forehead, “you are my intellect child, you took all this really well. I was not accepting this from you. Okay... so now you know why We didn’t tell it to you before?” I nodded. 
“You will now come with me to the doctor?” I nodded again. I was still crying but I dared to ask again, “but! If... I never ever had... reproductives than... why the doctor was operating me?” She paused and I knew she was again hiding something, “ you will get to know in the clinic”
It had been an hour and I was pretty much normal till the time we reached the doctor’s chamber. “ Hi, I am Mridul. i was supposed to tell you what you are going through but you just ran away and your mother did it for me.” He was saying and it was so embarrassing for me, “so! The only thing that I can tell you know is... I am not going to treat you because I can not. And for two reasons; one I am just a psychiatrist and second, you have no disease that need a treatment. And I am just going to counsel you” I nodded in agreement and he went ahead, “your mother got to know me from Gary, Gary is himself and intersex and is working as an activist for their well being in USA. I had met him during my visit to US for LGBT research and I got to know all this. So I help people here in India as condition for such people is worse here.” I interrupted,” but how did you know Gary, maa”. i felt guilty as no one responded, doctor continued with his words, “you really thank your mother and then you father too. It was new for them when you were born, but when you were 1 and a half years old, doctor told them to operate you and take your testes out, as it may lead to cancer. Your mother fought to your father and dismissed any kind of surgery till they fully understand your condition. And he agreed. They went on researching and talking to different people all these years when you were growing up. They met Gary online and them they met me last year.” He sighed and gulped some water, “But they were also meeting their family doctor because you know parents cannot take chance when it is about their child.” I had tears again in my eyes and he continued, “you can cry. You father just got influenced by doctors when they said testes would make you male gradually and it is not his fault. You can take out testes or keep them intact, it’s totally your call. But then you should know there are consequences when you do so. And even if you don’t take it out you are not going to face problems in life. The only thing you need to do is accept... the fact that you are an Intersex... there is nothing shameful... You are naturally this... and your body will not behave as female because it is not. If you understand these things your life will be as normal and as good as it is meant to be.” 
It was not my only sitting with Dr Mridul. Whenever we needed guidance we went to him. That day when we went home, papa did not scold me or maa for escaping the surgery, he rather hugged us tight and cried his heart out. He didn’t want to lose us. 
I am nineteen now. I am studying BA in sociology and I wish to work for people like me and help them lead a normal life. I have a boyfriend and we are so in love. No, I haven’t went a surgery. He knows what I am and he has no issue. And I am having a very simple life, my parents support me, nishu loves me and everything is so beautiful around me. I have an ambition in life and I love my life, I love mu body and I love myself. I still go to the walk in closet, undress myself and look into the mirror. But I end up smiling at the uniqueness of my edges and curves. I am so much feminine but in a different way. I am thankful to my parents for accepting me and letting me choose what I want to be. 
They didn’t ask me to study science in 11th standard, they didn’t ever ask me to behave the way society wants me to and they didn’t ask me to behave like a girl. I am an Intersex and they let me be it.

November 8: Intersex Day of Solidarity (IDS), or Intersex Day of Remembrance, marks the birthday of Herculine Barbin, a now famous French intersex person. (Source- intersexday.org)

Thursday, 26 October 2017

Yes, I am an Intersex. - I by Juhi Meshram

22:30

Yes, I am an intersex.
It was my 15th birthday. And I knew all about my surprise midnight party. Haha. My parents were really bad with keeping secrets, they still are. As I was left alone at my room, I was continuously looking at the clock tick-tocking to the last hour of the day. I walked around the room, peeped out of the locked doors, went to the balcony, and looked at myself a hundred times. I was wearing a pink nighty and had roughly tied my hair, a perfect midnight birthday-girl look. I was looking at myself. Tip to toe. I wasn’t curved like my friends. I was thin, my breasts were hardly round, but I had lovely pink cheeks. Maa would often tell me, “not all girls have curves and you are still young”. But, I was going to be fifteen and was excited to see my body grow to look feminine, like my mother’s.
Suddenly! The doors opened and there was everybody; maa, papa, nishu, masi and tiffy. They screamed together, “ happy birthday nimmiii”, and my fifteenth birthday began. 
I woke up early that morning. Dressed up for school, as I was stepping downstairs I heard my parents talking.
“She is fifteen now, till when do you think shall we wait to tell her?”, I knew they were talking about me.
“It is not easy, you have handled her the way you wanted but this time I will do it my way”, Papa responded furiously.
I could hear everything as the staircase was adjacent to the walls of kitchen ending before the dining, but they couldn’t see me as I was mid way on stairs. 
Papa left for office and I entered the space. 
Maa, as usual, put on a smile, as if nothing happened. She praised, “you are looking pretty and got ready on time, sorry I couldn’t wake you up... mm.. I was busy making this..”, and she offered me my favourites breakfast; aloo parathas, baked potatoes, strawberry shake, and much more. She made me forget everything with this and I ate a mouthful of it all.
I got a lot of gifts that day. My birthday party was something that my friends did not forget for months. The food, music, , decoration and the hosting by my family amazed everyone. 
But I was stuck by something. The thing, they were not telling me. I knew there was something wrong with me. I was sitting at my room that night with an overloaded bed with gifts. My little sister, nishu was so excited to open them all at once, but I couldn’t match up to her excitement. I excused her and went to washroom. I undressed myself and looked at my body. My walk in closet had full length front and side mirrors, I could see every inch of mine. It wasn’t the first time I was doing this. I had even searched on the internet for a teen girls body and how it should grow. Maa always avoided this conversation whenever I had asked her. My parents used to talk about me secretly and their discussions were always serious. I sometimes felt I was the reason for disputes between them, for some unknown reason. But.... never dared to ask them. I was not usual. My privates looked different to what I had found in pictures on internet. I didn’t feel the way my friends used to feel when talk about any senior boy, there was so much that I had to know. I was staring to my naked self when nishu knocked the doors. “didi! Papa is calling you” 
We were there, all three of us. Maa, papa and me. And there was silence. Because I dared to ask this time... “what is wrong with me?” 
My parents couldn’t say a word as I continued, “I know there is something that you two are hiding. You were talking even in the morning about it. Why are you not telling me. I am fifteen, you people should tell me. I am grown up.”
They calmed me down as I was getting hyper. And then Papa signed maa to proceed, “Nimmi! First of all I don’t want you to freak out. We understand, you are grown up and you need to know things... about yourself that we know. When you were born you were infectious, even we don’t know the reasons but you were. After few days when you were born, we had to admit you in the hospital because you had urinary blockage.... and that infection couldn’t be treated. That is the reason...”, maa was yet to complete when I freaked out, “ what? What infection? Why is it not treated yet and why not I know this...” but she calmed me again.” Beta, you were not at the age to understand these things... are you getting me?..... would you please listen?”
I settled down on sofa near them and maa continued, “so we want you to know and understand it fully before we treat you... and we will see your doctor tomorrow and get it done. Okay?” 
“ but what is the infection? I am sure it is the reason of my slow growth, please tell me” I requested. But they asked me to wait till the next day.
What I was told the next day took my world to an extreme end. The doctor’s words were pinching and snatching my head. “You have an infection in you genitals by birth. The reason you don’t experience menstrual cycle..... we have to take your genitals out so that you don’t catch cancer” I was shattered. I couldn’t utter a word. We came back home and I went straight to my room and locked myself. For hours, I was there in the bathroom crying and crying. With maa continuously tapping the doors. It is when I heard her sobbing that I came out. I announced to my parents that I was ready for surgery. They hugged me. And told me I was the bravest. I couldn’t let my mother cry and I knew it was better to leave a part of womanhood than to die of cancer. 
The days before surgery were killing me to every bit. I thought i will die, thought my parents would not love me anymore because I will not be able to produce child.  Nishi will not love me anymore for not telling her what to do when have periods every month. I was having bad thoughts. All bad thoughts. I was admitted to the hospital a day before the surgery and papa was there with me. I wanted maa to be there but she was home. They told me nishu needed maa and they wanted to keep her away of this. The next morning Maa called papa and told that he had to visit some client. He kissed my forehead and said to be back soon. The surgery was yet to be done when maa came. I was so happy to see her. I told her how much I needed her. I held her tight. But, she held me even tightly and said something I was not expecting, “nimmi, we are going to a place today. We can have this later when you are ready.” I was not getting any of it but she didn’t seem to care. She didn’t care of what the doctor said and took me out of that dooming scenario.
Next, we were on cab and maa was continuously ignoring papa’s calls. I remember, that was the first time I had heard the word ‘intersex’ and it was unknown to me then, that this word will become my identity.

To be continued...

Tuesday, 25 April 2017

The Jolly Beggar by Shristi Nangalia

20:00
“This day will pass by with ease
If you share a penny or two, please.”
The poetic young beggar sang with a smile
sitting on the road, at the end of the aisle.

He was always found in the association
of little puppies, in clear temptation.
He liked to pose a big happy face,
questioning the existence of his disgrace.

One day a little girl, while passing by
asked the lad, “You are happy, why?”
His smile widened, his cheeks wrinkled,
in sheer contemplation, his eyes twinkled.

“Why do you ask such, you little girl with a hat?”
the beggar asked in return, adjusting his mat.
“You have got nothing, yet you smile,
I have all the things, yet I cry once in a while.”

“Who said, I got nothing, sweet missy.
I have all that I need, don’t you see?”
“Don’t you need yummy food or some holiday fun?”
“I can live with my puppy fellas on tea and bun.”

“You are a strong man, but yet I ask,
Can I help you with your meal or any task?”
“This day will pass by with ease
If you share a penny or two, please.”

Monday, 10 April 2017

The Plastic Indian Wedding by Juhi Meshram

17:00
47 48 49 50... I push myself daily,
Because I dont want to look fat on my great day.
My aerobics instructor pushes me every day,
To be the best bride on my great day.
I dint think myself fat before,
But then I looked fat in those pictures we took that day.
This tummy can ruin the pictures on my great day.
I take yoga classes from last two months,
my parlour sessions are all set for the weekends.
I have a good skin though but then who wants to look tired on their great day.
The best venue of our town,best caterers best  choreographer; by the best wedding planner.
Newspapers headlines are waiting for my great day.
My friends said I looked chubby in my pre wedding shoot,
And that would just not be okay.
It started the zest inside me to achieve the perfect look on my great day.
My wedding card is the best with the golden plate,
No one in this town has had a golden theme, the planner say.
My parents have selected the custom package for my great day.
They say I am going to have the best wedding among all my relatives,
And they are jealous because I have good looking yet successful fiance,
We already have booked our honeymoon in Europe, just after our great day.
We are prepared for our sangeet performance,
And I am going to be slim soon for the perfect day.
What else a girl want in her life other than a great wedding day.

संसर्ग | Sansarg

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