Auntie!

"Not the regular high-school drama!
Mohan’s not afraid of any trauma!!
17 years old, and I can play any role.
But, waiting for one that makes me whole..."

Don't mind this crude monologue.

It's just a restroom motivation I give myself before I climb on to the stage. Done only when I'm given the roles I don't intend to take.

A female role again. It happens usually, as I was cursed with gynecomastia.

The restroom mirror showed me: I looked like an Indian queen, no less beautiful than the girls of my class. Adorned with jewels and makeup. But, I didn't mind the guys who just entered, and wondered what is such a girl doing in boys restroom. They looked at me motionless. What to do? I had to attend the nature’s call.

Had if it been my school, I would have been a laughing stock. And, none of my friends knew that I take up female roles on stage. This is a school I came for a drama competition. So, I didn’t care much.

While I departed to stage, battering my eyes heavily, I practiced a meticulous female royal laugh, which was part of the act, not to confuse the two souls who were already bewildered with my beauty!

To be a successful male lead on screen was my goal, but for the time being, I bear female roles and wear sarees or skirts – due to my passion for acting.

“Mohan!” someone exclaimed as I was about to enter the stage. It was my drama teacher, who had originally spotted that I could be a good fit for female roles.

As I awkwardly adjusted the sequined blouse, she admired, “You look royal! Storm the stage with your unique gift!!” I could only nod, stuffing down the urge to roll my eyes. I’m sure, she just saw my talent.

As I stepped onto the stage, following the cue for my entry, the crowd erupted with applause. The boys, except for the two, were whistling and they must be thinking I’m some beautiful specimen from another school.

I felt knots in my stomach, but that didn’t stop me from the royal walk I did on stage. The too-and-fro grace I mastered ages ago.

On stage, I forget everything, including my friends and family. With my friends and family, I try to forget that I was doing female roles on stage. Because, in life, I want people to consider me a hero one day, not as heroine.

While my classmates were busy flexing their muscles and figuring out how to woo girls, I will be always in the forefront and already flirting with some girl, who may not look hotter than me, at least when I was on stage. So, this always erases my name from the boys’ bullying list and adds to their envy list.

To keep up with boys, I even participated in their gossip circle, and made some crude comments about girls in general here and there.

And my parents don’t know about my theatrics too, not even my about my gynecomastia which was strapped to my chest. There were times when concerns were raised, but not for longer.

“No, mom! I’m not doing anything extracurricular! Just studying, I swear!”

It’s not that I’m ashamed. Okay, maybe I am, a little. Picture me at home, where I’m their only proud son, trying to fit into the role of a responsible boy. I juggle schoolwork and keep up with the family expectations of being a “good boy”. To be a boy, of course, it means not doing any household chores that my mother would do.

My mother, bless her heart, thinks I’m “growing into my body.” Every time she brings up my body, I just smile and nod. “Yes, Mom, it’s just muscle!” I assure her, while imagining myself with biceps the size of coconuts.

“You should join the gym!” my dad suggests. I nod. Then, that happened one day, as I was struggling to lift my dad’s tool box, just to impress my dad.

SNAP!

“What’s this?” … “How long?” But, somehow, the ace-bandages worn out, and my parents found out just the truth I held back to my chest. Worried they were, they took me to see a quack.

***

“Mr. Mohan,” our family doc began, flipping through my medical file as if it held the secrets of the universe, “I can assure you that your gynecomastia is a common condition for young men your age. It’s likely to resolve on its own in time, especially as you enter adulthood.”

Mom’s eyes lit up, and she shot a glance at Dad, who was reactionless, and mom awaited for the reactions. “No surgery?” she asked, turning over to the doc, her voice almost a whisper.

“No, no surgery is needed,” he replied, his tone steady and reassuring. “As for Mohan, with time and perhaps a bit of weight loss, he should see significant improvement.”

A bomb onto my plans! No surgery meant that I had to face another year of awkwardness before I can finally hit the gym, build some muscle, and transform into the movie hero I’d always envisioned.

“See, Mohan?” Mom beamed, nudging my knee under the table. “You’re going to be fine! Just wait until you start college; you’ll be a new man!”

“Yeah,” I muttered, as we exited the room. My mind raced far beyond. College. The mere word sent a shiver down my spine. I should be excited about it – after all, I’m about to graduate high school. But all I could think about is St. Xavier’s College, and the theater club that’s rumored to be the best in the state. People said, the club had connections with movie people.

Dad interrupted my thoughts, “We’ve been looking into engineering programs. You need to think seriously about your future, Mohan. This theater thing…” He shook his head. “It’s a hobby, son. You need a real career.”

The room felt like it’s closing in on me. “A real career?” I replied, unable to contain the sarcasm. “And what exactly is a ‘real career’?”

“Engineering is a solid choice!” Dad persisted, his voice rising a notch. “You’ll have job security. And you can always try in drama on the side.”

“Try?!” My voice made echoes in the waiting corridor. “I don’t want to try! I want to be a part of the theater club at St. Xavier’s, Dad! I want to act! You don’t get it!”

Mom’s face paled, and I could see the worry lines deepen as she glanced between me and Dad. “Mohan, sweetie, you’re just emotional about graduation. Maybe you should reconsider –”

“No, Mom!” I interrupted, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. “I’ve thought about this for years! I want to be an actor! I want to perform! I can’t just turn my back on my dreams because it doesn’t fit your idea of success!”

“Then what do you propose we do?” Dad snapped, his patience fraying. “Let you run off to some theater program in another town, chasing a fantasy?”

“Yes! Exactly!” I shouted with shrills, surprising even myself with the intensity of my emotion, as I moved from the place.

Mom pleaded, her voice trembling, “Mohan, please… think about your future…”

The silence stretched between us, thick and charged. The doctor’s voice echoed in my head – “You’re going to be fine” – but I know that this story is just the beginning.

***

St. Xavier’s College loomed ahead, a campus of soaring ambitions. I could finally pursue my passion for acting, but with that happiness came the weight of my family’s disappointment still heavy on my shoulders.

My parents had barely spoken to me since I had made my decision. Their silence was more cutting than any harsh word. “Engineering is a practical choice!” echoed in my mind like a relentless drumbeat. But I’d made my choice, and that’s what mattered.

To ease the tension, I’d decided to move in with my aunt, Lakshmi, who also happens to be a Professor of Literature at St. Xavier’s.

See, my plans are always ahead!

My aunt was known for her rebellious spirit. While I was a toddler, I heard, she was my baby-sitter most of the time. She was amazed that I almost looked like her, as she compared me against her baby photographs, mom told. More like we were inseparable then. But, fate had separated us, when my aunt had to lead her own life, away from my family.

Aunt Lakshmi was my father’s much younger and favourite sister, as my dad took care of her after my grandparents had passed away. But, her life choices somehow estranged her even from her brother. Her life choices? I don’t know much about it. Most of the whispered conversations at family gatherings told me, she wanted to be an independent woman. Now, she was my only option, and if she was willing to take me in, I could escape the heavy atmosphere at home.

As I approached her modest apartment, I felt a flutter of hope mixed with apprehension. What would she be like now? I know, she kind of shares familial looks, same as me. How would she look after all these years? Now, would she accept me into her doors?

I knocked softly, and after a moment, the door creaked open to reveal Aunt Lakshmi, looking surprisingly vibrant despite the paleness of her skin, covered by thin blanket. I noticed she lacked any hair above head – for some reasons! What’s happening?

“Ah, is it you Mohan?! You’ve grown, young man!” she exclaimed, her smile wide and genuine. For a moment, I forgot about everything – my parents’ disappointment, the pressure of college, and all.

“Auntie...,” I began hesitantly, “What’s this?”

She turned to me, the smile faltering for a moment before she plastered it back on. “Oh, you know, just enjoying life. It’s all good.”

“Really? You don’t look well.”

At that, her expression shifted, and I could see the mask slip. “It’s nothing, really. Just… life. I’m fine, Mohan.”

“Auntie, please. You don’t have to pretend with me. I can see that… your hair…”

She froze, her expression turning stony. “What you see doesn’t matter. It’s not important. I’m just on medical leave. Nothing to concern yourself with.”

But I could see the hurt in her eyes, the way she was trying to hold it all together while clearly unraveling. “Auntie, I want to help you. You can’t hide from this, whatever it is. I mean, you’re my family, and for goodness’ sake!”

For a moment, I thought she might shut down completely, as we were out of touch all these years. But, we immediately felt connection. My mind heaved to relieve her out of her state. Then, like the walls of a dam finally giving way, she let out a shaky breath, “I had a double mastectomy a few months ago. I’m recovering from cancer treatment. The baldness… it’s part of the process. But you can’t tell anyone, especially not your parents. They’ve got enough to worry about.”

I was taken aback, a mix of shock and admiration surging through me. “Auntie, you’re so brave,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Because I wanted to keep this to myself,” she replied, her voice trembling with the weight of her words. “I didn’t want to look like a weakling. And frankly, I didn’t want anyone’s pity.”

It was a struggle to comprehend what she was going through. Here I was, minutes ago, planning to catch-up with her after all these years, and narrate about my family’s expectations. Now, the roles felt reversed. “But you don’t have to be strong all the time,” I said softly. “It’s okay to ask for help.”

She looked at me, really looked, and for the first time, I saw the cracks in her armor. “Mohan…”

It took some time for her to get balanced. She served coffee for me. Still, she neglected my offer to help.

As I settled in, I distracted her from the woes by narrating my story, exaggerating at times, which cracked some smiles from her tired lips.

“Aren’t they pads?” She almost giggled, as she motioned her eyes towards my chest.

After I completed my story, she was elated to let me stay. I was more concerned about helping her in such a bad moment.

“Thanks for letting me stay, Auntie,” I replied, stepping into her spaces. The walls were lined with bookshelves crammed with volumes of literature. It felt chaotic, yet a perfect reflection of the woman I’d known only through family gossip.

Aunt Lakshmi waved a hand dismissively. “Pfft! Family should help each other. Besides, I could use some company.”

***

I settled in pretty much with my aunt. Slowly, she let me help her in the tasks. Had if my mom seen me cooking dosa, she wouldn’t believe me. Here, I didn’t mind about which tasks make one a boy or a girl. All I wanted is to help my aunt however I can. At least, for her letting me stay in her house.

With only two months to go – for the classes to start, I just realised it for the first time. We shared some uncanny looks.

I found myself, sitting across from Aunt Lakshmi, in her dimly lit living room, with the ceiling fan making lazy circles above our heads. She was wrapped in a shawl, her bald head gleaming under the light, and I was slouched on the couch.

She looked worried, as she was supposed to rejoin her classes at St. Xavier’s next week, her return from medical leave, but there was one problem. No one knew she’d lost her breasts. No one knew about the chemo. And, more importantly no one knew that Lakshmi, the fierce professor who tore apart literature, was now hiding from the world, because she didn’t want to be seen as broken. Damaged. Less.

“Hair will grow back,” she started to speak, rubbing her scalp like she could will the follicles to sprout overnight. “But this?” She motioned vaguely at her chest. “It’s gone, Mohan. I’m not me anymore.”

It took me a second to realize what she was saying. She wasn’t just talking about her body; she was talking about her identity. Lakshmi, the rebel, the woman who defied every expectation – now she couldn’t even bring herself to step out of her apartment. Cancer had stripped more from her than just flesh. It had taken her spirit, too.

She continued, “I don’t want to lose the job too. It somehow defines… my liberty.”

All of a sudden, I looked at her, really looked. Then I looked myself in the mirror beside her – my soft chest, my round edges, the awkwardness that puberty had decided to impart me like some joke. And, that’s when it hit me.

There’s something about staring at your aunt and realizing you now look more like her than she does. It’s unsettling, to say the least.

I could look… exactly like her? With a wig and some makeup? Maybe even a saree or a blouse that covered the right spots? If I leaned into my gynecomastia, maybe… maybe I could pass for her.

The idea formed slowly, like a bad punchline you can’t help but laugh at. It was insane. Ridiculous. Absolutely the most idiotic thing I’d ever thought of.

And, it was perfect!

“What if…” I started, feeling the weight of my own absurdity, “What if you didn’t have to go back? At least not right away.”

She furrowed her brow, not understanding yet. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying… I can go. As you.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them.

She blinked. Once. Twice. And then she started laughing. A low, bitter sound that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her. “Mohan, you can’t be serious. You’re… you.”

I shrugged. “And you’re you. But look at us.” I stood up and faced her, gesturing at my chest. “You’re bald. I have… well, this. Between the two of us, we could almost be the same person. With some effort, no one would notice.”

The laughter stopped. Her eyes widened, and for a long moment, we just stared at each other. Slowly, the corners of her mouth twitched upward. “You’ve lost your mind,” she said, but there was something in her voice, something that told me she wasn’t entirely against the idea.

“Think about it,” I pressed. “You don’t want anyone to know about… what you’ve been through. You’re scared they’ll see you differently. Fine. Let them see me instead. I’m already used to pretending… at least on stages.”

“Mohan, this is ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head. “You can’t just impersonate me. What about the lectures? The students? The faculty?”

I shot back. “This is just another role.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting into. This isn’t some high school play.”

“I know that,” I said. “But you can’t lose your job. You’ve worked too hard for this, Auntie. And I can help. Just until you’re ready. Until you can face them again.”

The room fell into silence. I could hear the distant hum of traffic outside, the weight of the moment pressing down on us. And then, to my surprise, she sighed. A long, heavy sigh that seemed to carry the weight of her struggle. “You really think you could pull it off?” she asked quietly.

“I know I can.” At least, I had to be grateful – for allowing me to stay in her house.

And in that moment, something shifted between us. Aunt Lakshmi was handing over the reins to me. And for the first time in my life, I was about to do the act in real life!

Two days later, we started.

It was surreal, to say the least. I stood in front of the mirror, staring at the reflection that wasn’t quite mine anymore. Aunt Lakshmi handed me her short wig, which she used whenever she had to buy groceries or occasional outside visits. It fit snugly over my own hair. I pulled it on, adjusting it until it sat just right.

“Try not to look too much like a boy,” she quipped, her voice tight with both amusement and nerves.

The makeup was trickier. Aunt Lakshmi showed me how to contour my face to hide the softer features, how to add a sharpness that mirrored her own. The clothes? Well, let’s just say I’d spent enough time in sarees for drama competitions that it wasn’t exactly new. But, the corset made it more trickier, until I fit her clothes… on my own!

“You look…” She paused, inspecting her work. “Like me. This is insane.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, shifting uncomfortably in the blouse. But, it worked. More than I thought it would.

“But, there’s more to it… like walking, manners, and the way you talk…”

“Well, I have rehearsed and performed female walks and talks… like thousand times before!”

“But, those rehearsals were not meant for 24/7.”

“What?!”