‘Oh, no. I meant to do that. I’ve always wanted to.’ She giggled and pulled herself away just enough to lie on her back. ‘Damn I wish you were...a woman sometimes.’ ‘I wish you were a woman too,’ I said. That won me an elbow in the ribs and a bite on the shoulders. A short wrestling match later her body lay partially over mine and we were in a soft embrace. I kissed her softly and said, ‘Lets do lunch.’ ‘Afraid of me huh? You pussy.’ ‘No. You pussy. Me dick.’ That got me pushed off the bed.. But even my dad asked me to wear that. I was heart broken. I decided to suicide. But Raghu is the only reason and cause for me to live. I went to city because I want to keep my son away from these ridiculous culture and traditions. I’m the only person who knows how much I cried in front of mirror when my son asks me ,”why u don’t wear color dress amma?” What should I tell him. Readers tell about your thoughts about these customs. Leave that we can continue the story.I dunno when I started to. More

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