Sunday Poem By Sneha Shaw


Grief deep inside me but laughter on my face.!!
I am very colourful from outside. My costumes , my makeover are sparkling loud and bright with all the golden glitters. ;
My sonorous florescent bangles make sound which is audible but not heard by the passer-by. I know they might feel pity on me.
Why don’t it embrace me with beauty like you girls??. The difference is very vague.
The same ornaments look so gorgeous on you girls. Alas! How they look so scary and odd on me and are not welcomed.
I am always subjected as an entertaining option of mimicry for many!!.
Still makes me happy at least I give reason for them to laugh-.
Often humour is made out of my claps and dances. Sometimes these claps are considered as blessings but still why it is derived of appreciation and sophisticated places ?
My cranky voice is not sweet and is harsh. !!.
I feel like traffic signals are also so done with my repetitive ways of begging for money .

Occasionally I also do get compliments.
I heard all the backhanded compliments very seductive and insulting framed only for fun and lust.
I really can’t understand for am I structured for? Why am I made like this?
Why don’t I never deserve the same what see in other charming girls.?
Dignified and respectful life might rest in Utopia for me. My body is beautiful but not can satisfy anybody’s needs can’t produce anything and is equal to a barren land.
…..Never this body could cherish the mother’s love Or feelings. It’s only attractive for negligence;.
I do feel lonely in crowded streets where there is no one to give me a mental peace nor a shoulder to rest on. Favourable for none.
My ways of earning is wrong which is termed by you wise men!!
Only exploitation, I tested. Once for money to earn my livelihood , to feed my empty stomach. Still you don’t want that good way to earn for my community. You make us victims of rape and sexual assault and term us as characterless. Why??
No laws and order will save me Or listen to me indeed victimize me once more. Expect food my self is hungry for love and respect.
My body wants love and care of someone not that of a lover but of a trustworthy hand.
Sometimes I too crave for conversations and long walks with that person who might not exist ever for me.
It’s way more difficult to address me with he or she in public and official papers….but one thing fortunately I got an national identity and recognition of a 3rd gender… ‘A Transgender’.

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