By Sunidhi Sharma
I am a she, in the body of he
I was given a car, when I cried for a barbie
The long tresses were cut short,
The dupatta was exchanged by a tie with a knot,
I got an identity that was never mine,
But something that suited society’s line.
“Behave like a man”, they cry.
But the girl in me cannot die, no matter how hard they try.
My fondness for bindis cannot be replaced
My inner conscience, I cannot betray.
Every day is a role play for me,
With a hope of green leaves soon in my tree.
“His walk, talk, nothing’s normal”, they taunted.
In my siesta, their comments haunted.
Perplexed with what I confront,
Every day the question remains, “What have I done?”
My desires and choices are mocked at
I cannot take it anymore, I feel bad.
My soul cries under the sheet of bed,
For my originality the world does not respect,
Outside my room is the reel life,
Behind the closed doors, I cherish my real life.
Bigotry against people like me is taking a toll
Guess it’s time, to reconsider gender role?