The Camouflaged Funeral

The Camouflaged Funeral

11th October: Today’s my funeral. 

Yes, you heard that right! 

To be frank, I’m grateful to my father for bestowing this honor on me. I was enervated listening to those incessant grouches of my so-called well-wishers.

Oh! I apologize for not having introduced myself earlier. My name is Shravan (Oops, was!!!). I could have turned 20 this year, but thanks to some dastardly supervillains, my life was cut short even before I could celebrate my birthday! Let me give you a sneak peek of my brief life.

I was born in an affluent family, the only heir to their ginormous fortune. Of course, my family had some gargantuan expectations from me which included upholding our family’s tradition, venturing into our textile business and following an opulent lifestyle that I was least interested in! Why, you ask? Well, since my childhood, I was obsessed with Barbie dolls, lipsticks, sequined gowns and pink hair clips. I loved adorning Mom’s sarees, embellished jhumkas, anklets and that red vermilion mark on my forehead. 

Yes, you guessed it correct! I was a TRANSGENDER! A desperate girl gasping inside the body of a male. Disgusting, isn’t it? Shush! Don’t read it aloud! It’s still a taboo. I loved keeping my hair long and braiding them at times. I loathed my body when I had my first erection at the age of 16. “You seem different” – No wonder, I was told umpteen times by countless people.

I was severely bullied during my high school days for my feminine attitude and faced the wrath of my parents occasionally. I became a victim of panic attacks and depression. By the age of 20, I realized I can’t stay tight-lipped anymore! I had already acknowledged and embraced who I really was and wanted the society to comprehend my situation as well. Alas! That was the greatest blunder of my life.

I was labelled as an impenitent sinner who had ravaged familial honor. It was a huge shock for my family who whipped me for days and termed me “mentally deranged”. Unable to bear the humiliation, my dad strangled me one night to death. “Honor killing”, they say! The last words I could hear were, “You deserve to die, ingrate!!!”

That was my tragic story and now I’m just a disembodied soul witnessing my funeral. Swarms of people surrounding my coffin with flowers in hands, somehow the funeral reeks of disdain and scoff.

Masquerades everywhere!!!

I can sense the sardonic grin behind those hysterical wails, diabolical hearts hidden under those black suits, malicious joy dripping out of those lachrymose eyes, muffled voices in deafening silence, camouflaged condolences concealing the cold indifference, wicked rejoice behind the facade of feigned lament and shards of deception plunging deep through comforting embrace!

What an irony! Don’t you seem different now, mourners?

Did I deserve death for valiantly coming out of the closet?

Alas! My time’s up! 

Sigh! Hoping to meet some genuine astral beings in heaven who would accept my identity as a transgender.
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