Story 3 Dhutura flowers grown in neglect

My name is Rupa. I am 30 years old. I was born and raised in Rajbari. No one could tell if I was a boy or a girl by looking at my genitals at the time of my birth. My family was not very surprised because people like me have been born in this family before, his name is Phulbanu.

As my sister and my other peers are menstruating, breasts do not grow and the way to have children is closed.

People in the vicinity used to point to my house and say that you know that there are two Hijras in the house. There would be a storm of talk about us in the tea shops of the market.

I think of myself as a girl. I have an attraction for a boy. I have never been able to express my love for my sexual sign.

If you want to give an opinion somewhere in the family or society, everyone says you keep quiet! Do you understand that you don’t have children, you don’t have a family, you don’t understand these. In fact, I pretend not to understand the contempt of society and family. Silently, I keep the sufferings pressed to my chest.

I work in a kindergarten school and work in people’s homes.

My older sister was involved in the Hijra culture but I was determined from a young age to work and live with dignity as long as I live. My older sister later developed a complex liver disease. My sister died without any treatment due to lack of money. After my sister’s death, my mother became very ill.

Now I know I am not a Hijra, I am an Intersex person.

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