It was his little secret. He loved dressing up in feminine attire. At these moments he felt most at ease, as if some invisible shackles had been lifted off him. How he hated those dull shirts, tees and jeans he was expected to wear all the time as a teenage boy. Why couldn’t he just flaunt some beautiful odhnas or twirl in flowing skirts instead? He carefully kept this quirk of his hidden from his parents - who pretended to be very modern, but had mindsets of the last century. They couldn’t tolerate any aberration in conventional behaviour - Akhil was quite aware of this. The way they reacted on hearing about inter-caste marriages and live-in relationships revealed their narrow thinking. And his mother! Long back, in Kanpur, when Akhil was barely seven, she had caught him practicing some moves of a Mohiniyattam dancer he had seen on TV. He was copying the danseuse, shyly practicing some of her hand and eye movements. Mrs. Srivastava had seen red and created a massive s...
I write what I feel strongly or lightly about. Cooking, writing, reading, solving crosswords are my hobbies. I don't feel the need to categorize my blog or limit myself to set topics. Any comments on topics or write-up are welcome