My cousin runs a ladies parlor. Chai par baytay thay. I have this extremely bad habit of starting painful discussions. Gham par batain honay lagi. She said once a tranvestite came to her parlor, jisay hum aur aap hijra kehtay hain. The chowkidaar stopped her but the

>transvestite was crying. She went to the door. "Meray naakhun nikaal dain, meray baal mardon jaisay karday"
Kyun? She asked.
"Meri maa faut hogayi hay, aisay nahi jaa sakta"
My cousin went quiet. She called her husband to bring his clothes. And brought the hijra to the parlor.>

>"mardon kay barber mera haircut nahi kar rahay thay, amma ka janaza nikal gaya tou main kaisay khud ko maaf karon"
"Main bacha tha tou mujhay chupkay say hijron kay paas bayjh diya, har saal mujh say milnay aati, ghar par abba mujhay maartay thay na"

She cut her hair, her >

>nails and dressed her as a man. She couldn't even attend her mother's funeral as Allah has made her. Kis dozakh main rehtay hain na janay...

I try not to talk about gham anymore. Aur mushkil hota jaraha hay.