You want to know who is Pinky?
Then read on...
I don't exactly remember when and how it all started. I realised that I had something strange going on in my head, when one day when I found myself in the bath-tub wearing my mother's nighty soaked in the water and feeling nice and sexy. I might have been 12 years or so then. It was not the first time I had worn something from my mom's wardrobe, I had been in the habit of spending long hours in the bathroom trying out various pieces of clothing on my body to see how it fit and how I looked in each one. I found a secret satisfaction in this habit and some-how felt that the colorful, lacy, silky clothing worn by women in different forms and styles was far superior to the drab uniform like shirt-trousers worn by us boys. There just seemed no variety in a boy's world, while the girls had so much to chose from.
This went on regularly especially during the summer vacations and I seriously wished at one point in time that I should have been born as a girl. I tried make up once when mom was not at home - it made me look (or so I thought) as one of the beautiful models in magazines and I felt good. Pink soon became my favorite color while dressing and I fancied myself to be a lissome lass affectionately called Pinky.
My first and only public appearance dressed as a girl came about when I was 16. There was a school play in which I was chosen to play the male part and along with the two other girls in the cast we practised hard before our performance at a competition. In-fact I also harbored a crush on one of the girls and I was falling head-over-heels to impress her - I had learnt the dialogues of all three characters while practising. (Un)fortunately one of the girls (not my sweet-heart) got sick two days before the performance and our school would most certainly have withdrawn - but then how could I let my girl down? - there was something I had to do.... and deep down in me there was Pinky lurking waiting for a chance to show off. I don't know how, but I convinced everybody including my parents and the teachers that the best way to save our school's reputation was to let me play the female part because I already knew the dialogues and with some make-up I would pass. The male part, was very simple and we could train another boy to do it in no time.
My fool-hardy plan was somehow accepted and there I was at the next rehearsal dressed as a girl in a sari, blouse-with-fillers, make-up, wig, jewelery, sandals - basically the works... I was quite thrilled for myself. I spent a good part of the next 2 days in costume saying I needed to get used to it. I also had the ulterior motive of getting close to my crush and I would try to behave like a giggly, gossipy girl, thinking it might get me intimate with her.
She was not quite impressed - I was later told. And the show was a complete disaster as I neither passed well as a girl and I mixed up my lines.
Pinky, however, loved every moment of it, she got her thrills, she dressed up - that too legally - to her hearts content. It is a time to remember even to this day.
College, friends, studies, work, marriage - they all kept me away from such escapades for more than a decade. There were minor uprisings in between - but were mostly passing phases. I once flicked a yellow chiffon salwar suit from a cousin and rented (never to return) a ghagracholi & wig from a shop and made a few attempts at reviving old memories. Guilt pangs quickly made me throw it all away.
The internet was a revelation as I watched the Indian CD community emerge from the shadows.
I tried telling my wife that I had a fancy for silk, chiffon and satin - she didn't like the idea. Men should look like men - she said. That was then the end of story.
Pinky is a resilient bitch - she refuses to die. I don't know why she exists. I'm not sure I will ever figure this out. Like a first love, her memories grow fonder with age. I guess I will let her be.
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