My God died young. Theolatry I found
Degrading, and its premises, unsound.
No free man needs God; but was I free?
Degrading, and its premises, unsound.
No free man needs God; but was I free?
― Vladimir Nabokov, Pale Fire
My name is Mira, whom perhaps, no man on this very earth will ever possess. I am famous now, full of men around me, but then…my God died very young. The day He made me…
My days are now very busy. The shooting of my next film is about to end in a week. Tension and thrill mixed in my veins run as pleasure seekers. Today was one such busy day. My film is on a man who fights with his own identity from his very childhood. The suppressed feminity within made him vulnerable equally to his friends and foes .They made joke of him, played with his emotions .When at last, he underwent surgery and became a woman.
My doctor called me up today and asked about my operation, how I was feeling. Till now, it went on well I think .I still have a slight persisting pain in my bosom and below, rest is all fine.
Just a few years before had we thought of all these possibilities in India? Is it right to tamper with God’s decision. Questions like these had corroded my childhood. But then, what can you possibly do, if you felt someone else inside your own body. Trapped in the dungeon of your heart pit. My parents felt I was obsessed , they were pained to see the adulteration in my behavior. I was pained myself, fighting with who I am. My God never helped me, made a joke of me and asked me to fight back. As I grew up, as I got more haunted, I fought for the identity my heart looked for. And slowly amidst these fights, my God silently died…
Thank God, my movie is coming off well. It was very difficult to get an actor for the role. No one was obliged or happy to do it. I really like Amarjit, my hero. I feel he is doing a fantastic job. On a second thought, I feel I have a slight crush on him. The way he looks at me. His gym overworked masculine body. His erotic body smell. His swindling curls in that afternoon rain…
My fights were my very own. Still they are. The decision of the operation was a tough one. My parents were shocked with fear. There were vehement protests from different strata’s of the society. But then, in turmoil times, your decisions should be rock solid. And the decision was my very own.
Have I done the correct thing, I don’t know. Coming out of the closet and declaring my identity. But I couldn’t continue with the iron shackles on my conscience. I was trapped inside.
No free man needs God, but was I free?...Perhaps, I was never….For I was born as Mrinmoy…A man with a woman’s feelings buried deep inside…Mira was born after surgery….
Let’s pack up now as its turning really dark….
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About the author:
Saptarshi Basu, a Gold Medallist in Mechanical Engineering, has been in IT industry for last 8. However, writing has always been first love, his passion. His second Novel , AUTUMN IN MY HEART published by Vitasta Publishing with Times group (Times of India) launched in november'11 has already created a lot of stir due on causes of broken heart and homosexuality.
Blogging and travelling are the biggest pursuit of him. He had subsequently travelled and lived in London, Toronto, San Francisco, Dubai till he came back to Kolkata, his hometown.
Saptarshi Basu also does screenplay writing for movies and columns for some online magazines
