Children of a lesser God

 

From Dr Venugopal Balchand

I first met Shasha in 2013. His countenance was just not right. He came across as someone trapped in a cell. A caged animal almost, struggling to break free. Eight years down the line we met for a chat on Deepavali eve. She was radiant. Could not stop smiling. The joys of freedom made her glow with pride. And she looked very pretty.

There are no typos or grammatical errors in the above paragraph. This is the remarkable story of the same person. Born a gentleman. Living life as a lady.

Shasha had an unhappy childhood. Her parents were not on good terms and eventually parted ways. She still does not keep in touch with her father. Her mother, realising very early that Shasha was different, showered all her affection on the other two siblings.

Shasha was brought up by her grandmother. It was around the age of seven or eight that Shasha first realised he was unique. He had absolutely no desire, during class breaks, to join the bunch of giggling boys to see who could pee the farthest or the highest. In fact, he preferred to pee sitting down. He found himself looking at Barbie dolls rather than Matchbox cars. He would prefer to die rather than be seen naked.

By the time he turned 16, he and everybody around him knew that he was not the boy next door. His voice was high pitched. His mannerisms were very effeminate. He had small breasts. His brain refused to acknowledge his anatomy. People started avoiding him. He was bullied. Ridiculed. Ostracised. Nobody to lean on. His family was not supportive.

Those were gloomy, dark years. Alone and neglected. Around the age of 17, he found a transsexual friend. Like some people in their community, she was in the flesh trade. She told him to spend time with her. She would show him the ropes. Just two evenings in the seedy brothels and Shasha decided that this was not who he would turn out to be. He wanted to study. He had reasonably good grades. He was not going to let the tug of war between his brain and his body be an impediment to his academic progress.

It was in his twenties that he decided to go the whole nine yards. He was not a hypocrite. He knew he could no longer pretend to be male. He was advised by friends that starting the journey of transition would be a monumental decision. There was no turning back. But Shasha was convinced that, in his case, Nature had made a mistake. He wanted to rectify it. He put what little money he had into hormone therapy. It was not cheap. Two types of pills every morning. Intermittent injections. But all done under proper medical supervision. Of course, there were side effects. Stormy mood swings. Hot flushes. Alone in his rented room he would literally bang his head on the walls. He cursed the world. But one honest and intense desire kept him going. He was so sure he wanted to be a woman.

Three years of hormone therapy and he knew he was ready for the Gender Reassignment Surgery. Sadly, it is not available in this country. He had to travel overseas. It cost him RM25,000. He had to pass a psychological assessment first.

The surgery took five hours. The recovery was exceedingly painful. He still remembers the first time he saw his new anatomy. He was overcome by joyful tears and immense pride. His brain told him “Congrats Shasha! You are now who you were meant to be!”

The desired anatomy was one thing. Making it functional was torture. Hours and hours of using dildos and lubricants. Absolutely no pleasure. Only pain. Excruciating pain. Shasha came back after the surgery contented, whole, happy. But in this country, on paper, she would always be male. The irritation and the embarrassment starts with little things like waiting in a public office and there is an announcement “Mr. Shasha – Counter 4”. And the whole crowd is staring and speaking in hushed tones when this tall woman with long flowing hair and perky boobs walks confidently to the counter.

Six months ago, Shasha entered into a relationship. Her boyfriend knows she is a transwoman. Knows that she will never have a child. But he loves her dearly. That’s all that matters. They are considering marriage but, sadly, that too will have to be solemnised outside this country.

In the last few years especially, this country has tended to glorify criminals. Thieves, liars, cheats, molesters and rapists, too. We put them on a pedestal. On the other hand, people like Shasha and her clan, whose only fault is that they are quirks of nature, are looked down upon, tormented, ridiculed, groped even.

It is time we, as a nation, introspect. There is no such thing as a lesser God. We are all children of the same God. Maybe He just had an off day. Maybe He was bored with His perfect creations and just wanted to be mischievous.

I have always believed that in life, you can only play with the cards you are dealt with. Without doubt, people like Shasha have been dealt a cruel hand. Years of mental and physical torture, shunned by the very people who should have loved and cared for them, isolated, ridiculed, not accepted.

Yet many of them rise above these challenges with the courage of their convictions to lead an honest life. We, lesser mortals, have so much to learn from their journey. It is never easy fighting Nature. I wish I had her strength. Tenacity. Perseverance. I know I would have been a better man.

“So, what are you doing for Deepavali tomorrow?” I asked. ”I hope to go to my boyfriend’s place“ she said. “My mother has forbidden me to be seen anywhere near our family home.”

As we both stood up after our two-hour chat, I was a touch emotional. I wanted to hug Shasha, console her and apologise for the ridicule and rejection she faced on a daily basis. I wanted to reassure her that things would only get better. I hesitated though. I had never hugged a transwoman before. Maybe Shasha sensed it, too. She took a step backwards. We shook hands warmly and wished each other the best.

PS: “The beauty of standing up for your rights is that others see you standing and stand up as well” – Cassandra Duffy. - FMT

Dr Venugopal Balchand is an FMT reader.

The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of MMKtT.