Part 5
A Saturday Standful
The sunlight streaming through the balcony window didn’t bring the usual Saturday morning relief. Rajani woke up, her long hair tangled across her face, feeling the familiar, heavy ache in her chest. Her body was adapting faster than her mind; she instinctively reached back to check if her hair was caught under her shoulders before rolling out of bed.
Her stomach made the decision for her. Too lazy to cook, she pulled on a casual green kurti, slipped into her flats, and tied one of her stole around her face again with practiced ease.
Down at Ramrao’s tapri, she stood among the usual weekend crowd, her eyes scanning the street while she waited for her Misal Pav. Even though she was dressed exactly like every other girl in the city, inside, she still felt like the same 27-year-old guy who wanted to talk about cricket, drink black coffee, and ignore his responsibilities. Eating Misal with a stole pushed around her neck was a tactical challenge, but she managed, keeping her head down and avoiding eye contact with the groups of guys chatting nearby.
The Dust War
Back home, the reality of living alone caught up with her. The flat was covered in a thin layer of fine Pune dust.
"Time for some deep cleaning," she muttered, grabbing a microfiber cloth and the broom.
She began wiping down the TV unit, but within three seconds, her nose began to tickle violently. A massive, chest-heaving sneeze caught her off guard, nearly knocking her off balance. *Achoo!* Then another. And another.
Her eyes watered, and her throat felt instantly scratchy. As a guy, Rajanish had a cast-iron immune system; he could sweep a dusty garage without a single cough. But this new, delicate body apparently came with a severe dust allergy.
Gasping for air, she ran to the door, grabbed one of her homely scarf, and wrapped it tightly over her head, nose and mouth inside her own living room. With her face covered like a bandit against her own house dust, she finished sweeping, coughing into the fabric and cursing Bappa under her breath for the biological downgrade.
The Marriage Dilemma
By noon, the inevitable happened. Her phone rang, displaying her mother’s picture. Rajani took a deep breath, untying the scarf, and answered the call.
"Rajjo! Did you think about the Nashik boy? His father called your Baba today. They want to fix a meeting in Pune next weekend," her mother said, skipping the pleasantries.
Panic shot through Rajani. The core of her being—the soul inside this curvier, softer frame—was still entirely a heterosexual guy. The mere thought of sitting across from a man, discussing a future together, and eventually... “No. Absolutely not. Way too fast” she thought, a cold sweat breaking out on her neck.
"Aai, listen to me," Rajani said, trying to sound as mature and firm as possible. "We cannot do this meeting next weekend. In fact, we need to put this whole marriage thing on hold for a few months."
"What? Why? Rajjo, you are 27! The boy is very settled—"
"Aai, my project is going through a massive restructuring," Rajani lied smoothly, channeling all her corporate jargon into the excuse. "Management is changing. There is a huge risk of layoffs, and they are monitoring everyone’s performance. If I take leave or focus on marriage right now, my job could be at risk. Plus, the home loan EMI... if I lose my job, how will we manage?"
The mention of the home loan and job instability instantly silenced her mother. In a traditional Marathi household, financial security was paramount.
"Layoffs? Are Deva... is it that bad?" her mother whispered, sounding worried.
"Yes, Aai. It’s very tense here. I need to focus 100% on upskilling and saving my project for at least the next six months. Please tell them I cannot meet anyone right now. Let things settle down first."
After a few more anxious questions, her mother reluctantly agreed to stall the groom's family. Rajani hung up, letting out a massive breath of relief. She had bought herself some time, but she knew she couldn't live in limbo forever.
Shopping Therapy and a Voice from the Past
Needing a distraction from the walls of her apartment, Rajani decided to hit the Phoenix mall in Wakad area. Her wardrobe was severely lacking in basic essentials, and if she was going to survive as a woman, she needed clothes that actually fit her properly.
The mall was packed with weekend shoppers. Walking through a popular women's clothing brand store, she felt completely overwhelmed by the rows of Western wear, dresses, and denim. She picked up a few pairs of jeans and casual tops, checking the sizes with a frown, still trying to guess what number fit her new waist.
She was standing near the billing counter, holding a stack of clothes, when a loud, energetic voice echoed from behind her, cutting through the ambient mall music.
"Rajjo?! Oh my god, Rajjo! Is that actually you?!"
Rajani froze, her heart stopping for a fraction of a second. She turned around slowly.
Running toward her with a massive, ecstatic grin was a girl, her arms extended for a hug. Rajani’s brain scrambled, searching through the dual layers of her memory to identify the person charging toward her.
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