She perched down on her favorite bamboo chair with a cup of ginger tea and a newspaper held firmly in her hand. There was a light breeze slowly filling her small verandah with the scent of her lovely red roses and jasmine. The creepers which she had planted, not so long ago, were happily waving their small leaves, as if wishing her good luck for the day. Nervousness, as she looked ahead for the day, which was going to be an important one, crept into her, but she managed to pull up an assuring smile on her pretty face. 
She saw her neighbour who lived across her apartment, quietly stealing gazes from her. The old man took his towel that he must have left at the balcony to dry and mumbled something inaudible while leaving. She said, partly shouting at the man who had his old bent back turned to her, "Namaste  Sharmaji." Her voice startled the soul out of the 68 year old man, who turned his head, frowned, and left  quickly. 
She laughed silently. She enjoyed the view of him getting annoyed at her presence. Well, that was how each day of hers passed in the last month. Nevertheless, she shrugged the matter off and got up for her day. 
She put on the best saari in her wardrobe, carefully ironed and neatly folded. Her makeup was specially bought for this occasion, and was on point, even though it came a little expensive. As she stood in front of the  mirror, all she could see was a lady, quite confident but seemed timidly  insecure at the same time. She somewhat feared the society, but was still sure, she could manage it without them. At least that what the world has taught her in the 43 years of her existence. 
Namita Tyagi, that was her name. And that day, she stepped out to change her world. 
She chose to walk to the school where she worked, to observe and absorb everything for one final time. She relished the sweet chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves, the smiles of the little children; the things that remained unchanged and kind to her. The shops were already open, long chains of food packets, hung in front of them. The elderly were calmly strolling and gossiping in the park, unworried about the day upfront. 
But, she found curious uncomfortable gazes, and mothers hushing and pulling back their children from her. She could feel men laughing and calling her names that one should not. But, Namita knew how to stay away from gloom. She had a knack for them ever since her whole family, her pillar of strength, died in a car accident 20 years ago. She sighed when she saw the yellow building of her school. 
She found her way to the Auditorium, where the students were already assembled. As she expected, the students and Teachers were very shocked and confused seeing her in a very bizarre fashion. They stood dumbfounded as she found her seat on the stage and sat down awkwardly. The last seaters even stood up to get a clear view of their teacher. 
The seat cushion made her sweat profusely and the cloth pricked her skin. The moment she had been waiting for was here. But, Mr. Raghav, the school Principal approached her, anger burning in his eyes,  visible through his glasses. He snarled, "Can you please-"
But the young boy, who was to welcome Namita to the stage, quickly realised he was being needed, although he was a bit confused at the happenings and the attire of his teacher. 
"Today as we are present here bidding farewell to one of the most wonderful teachers that this school has ever witnessed, having such an enormous amount of experience of 18 years, let us welcome Tyagi sir onto the dais for his parting words of wisdom for his young followers." He read lines from the paper he was holding, bringing about a proud smile on Namita's face. Their eyes met and all they could see was respect. Namita knew anybody could hate her, and claim her to be weird and stupid, but at least not her students. On the final day of her teaching career, Namita held her head high as she realised 18 years were successfully spent on building a healthy student-teacher relationship. She stood up with all these emotions flooding her head. 
Namita was all sweaty and tired. A drop of sweat rolled down her forehead all the way through her face and dropped onto her blue sari. With a pounding heart and a heavy mind, she started walking towards the podium. She was extremely thirsty. 
She took a long breath and cleared her throat to speak. Looking at the confusion among the students, she said, "Today as I am ending my job here as a teacher, I would like to say something very important and special to me. Maybe the things that I say will turn out to be important to some of you. You won't know, right?" She laughed, but others remained silent. 
"Alright. I just want to tell one thing before I leave this place. It's never too late to find your identity and the idea of life. For me, it was just a month back, when I found out I am not the one I was born into. At that time, I wasn't sure if people would accept me as a woman and will tell me to change back. But let me make one thing clear, if we go on following the standards of the society, our lives will be as sorrowful as a man totally abandoned in the middle of an ocean, unable to find a shore. 
"I know I have been gone for one month, and all these days I got to know about me, why I always loved makeup and groomed nails, instead of beard and moustache. Well, how does it matter? Choices are what  humans make to express themselves. And most importantly, I realised, I could have found myself much before if someone had talked with me earlier about my interests and hates. But it's better to be late than  never, right?  
"Finally just one more thing, I am not Naman Tyagi anymore. That is a person long abandoned. Namita Tyagi, that is who I am now. It's not a class or a boring lecture. This is what is called life. Harsh and dangerous, but at the same time, elegant and beautiful, just like a flowing river. 
"I want to thank everyone who supported me and helped me find myself. And thank you for hearing a transwoman, one thing that needs to be brought about in the Indian society." There was so much silence that one could hear several hearts pounding, as Namita stepped out of the stage and made her way to the entrance, with overflowing eyes. 
Easing up on the school ground bench, Namita had several thoughts running in her mind. But all her thoughts were forced to a halt when Mansi, her colleague, approached the bench with a box of sweets and a wide grin.  
"You had a great day, didn't you?" She laughed holding the box out to her.
"Oh come on. It felt like a nightmare. But I am at least relieved everything is finally getting off my shoulders." Namita said picking up the biggest laddoo. 
"Yes, it sure is." Mansi shrugged. 
Silence filled between the two. At this juncture, both skimmed through their memories with each other. Mansi, who was one of the very few people who stood with Namita when she needed the most, shifted in her seat uncomfortably, finding it quite unbearable to leave her friend. But Namita broke the silence with a loud crackling of her throat. 
"It's time, Mansi." She said looking at the red evening sky, getting up from the bench. 
Mansi took out a blue gift packet from her handbag and handed it out to Namita. She gladly took the present without asking what it was. She knew, things Mansi gifted were always really special and handy; just like the saari she was wearing. Without saying a word, but with a delightful smile and watery eyes, they parted ways. 
On her way back to the apartment, sitting inside a rusty car, Namita took out her phone for the first time that day. Scrolling through various Facebook posts, which she had left untouched for two months, she  noticed the one by Raghav sir, the school principal. The seven colours of a rainbow covered the screen of her phone and gleamed at her. The caption read about Pride month and the importance of its awareness, which was outright rare for a person who would tell a transwoman to change back, reconsider and stop bringing consciousness about this to the students. She smirked and gave out a shrill laughter. She wanted to fling all the hypocrisy that the world possesses into the fire of introspection and emotions. 
Locking the apartment door and handing over the keys to the secretary, she realised she would miss her plants and the aroma of morning chai. The secretary smiled at her and wished her good luck. She picked up the heavy bags and stepped out in her brand-new sandals. She adored the way Mansi respected her complaining about the shops which didn't have any extra-large ladies' footwear for her manly feet. 
She was just leaving the apartment when the little girl from her neighborhood, quickly ran to her with a  beautiful white Gulbahar in her hand, holding it out with a sweet smile. The flower stared back at her with so much hope that Namita had to take it. The girl did not utter a single word and left. Namita wondered what that kid's name was. 
With the flower in her hand, Namita started out with so much hope and much more strength. She saw her efforts would not go in vain and all the humility would not break her unless she got smothered by the  hostility. She had the courage to alter all the hatred to love, numbness to warmth. 
That journey was always a part of her and would always be; the journey to diversity and belief. She knew she was ready for a new beginning at a place where the roads would take her. She was well prepared for a self exploration journey, like a nomad who would go on travelling, stopping frequently but not eternally, leaving no time for others to judge, but enough for her to learn. Now, she knew her way. 
Namita Tyagi, that was her name. And that day, she stepped out to change the world.