hero. villain. anything but human.

man. sometimes woman. many a time, a child. searching, discovering, learning, unlearning all the time. about who i am.

and here you are, making a mockery of all that makes me. displaying my hidden organs that bear no resemblance to the turmoil that i undergo within. teasing my urges, decreed by the very nature that makes me, me. the very nature that unearths the villain in you. so that you may make a hero of yourself, by making me a sacrifice.

i cry. you call me woman.
i rage. you call me a man.
i stammer, stumble, pick my broken remains. you call me transgender.

and people read, watch, discuss me.

because it is easier to vilify me. than unveil your own hypocrisy.




pinky pramanik. what matters who she is? when all we care is what she brings?