Chapter 18 - Using my purchases

Chapter 18


Using my new purchases


I adjusted my saree to fully cover my chest and started walking back towards Linking Road which seemed to have become more crowded than it was a few minutes earlier. Maneuvering between fast moving bodies, I reached the road and hailed an autorickshaw.

“Where to, Madam?” the driver asked.

“I am looking to buy some Salwaar Khameezes, would you know where I can find a good collection?” I asked.

“Madam, the best place would be Elco Arcade.” He said.

“Take me there.” I told him.

Within no time, we reached Elco Arcade. The crowd here seemed to be even more. Ordinarily, I would have been very nervous about being dressed as a woman in such a big crowd, but buoyed by my success in “She”, I felt very confident.

As I got out of the autorickshaw, my petticoat and saree slipped up my ankle a little and exposed my shin. I was thankful to have done my legs in preparation for this visit.

Making my way through the many Salwaar Khameezes hung out on innumerable wire mannequins in the passage, I made my way into one of the few air-conditioned stores there. The number of outfits displayed there were fewer but were more elegant and expensive in appearance.

I was grateful for the air-conditioning and as I stepped into the store, someone inside said, “Welcome Madam.”

Knowing the habit of women in general, I simply said, “Thank you” and looked at Salwaar Khameez ensembles around me. Each of them was exquisitely chosen. I liked a few and asked to see them.

The salesgirl was only too glad to oblige. She took out some five or six of the sets and placed them on the glass topped shelf. I looked each of them.

I liked a couple of them and asked if there was a trial-room where I could try them out. She said, “ Yes, but someone is using it right now. If you can wait for a couple of minutes.”

The wait was not too long. I heard the click on the door and from inside emerged an exquisitely good looking lady. She was tall and seemed to be in her mid-fifties. Her hair was dyed black but her face did not obviously reveal her age. Only the slightest of hint of jowls gave a clue to her real age. Obviously frequent facial massages had helped.

As she walked out, our eyes met and she greeted me.

I responded with a “hello” and smiled at her. “Sorry to have kept you waiting.” she said as an apology.

“It wasn’t too long.” I assured her.

“That’s a beautiful saree.” She said to me. I thanked her.

Her face seemed strangely familiar. I knew I had seen her someplace but could not quite place her exactly.

A sales assistant from the store hung the three hangers on a hook on the door inside the enclosed space which went for a “trial-room”.

I stepped in and closed the door. The bolt on the door was a bit of a challenge. The door needed to be pulled in hard before the bolt could be locked. Being a man, I did that with some difficulty but perhaps not as much as a woman would possibly feel.

I hung up my purse and the bag of lingerie on one of the hooks. Now I faced a real challenge. Being a man, I was unfamiliar with the tricks that women used to maneuver in small rooms and still successfully try out clothes.

Once again, I unpinned my saree pallu from my blouse. Tucking in the saree on my petticoat, I unhooked my blouse and took it off and hung it on the wall hook. Selecting one of the chosen ensembles, I removed the khameez off the hook and slipped it over my head.

Carefully so as to not dislodge my wig or my jewellery, I pulled down the garment and pressed it in place over my saree which was now completely below my waist.

Examining myself in the mirror, I liked what I saw. Obviously the tailor had taken great pains to ensure that the design that resulted from the fabric presented the khameez in the best possible way. I decided to buy that set.

Pulling off the khameez over my head, I selected the next ensemble. This was one that was stitched slightly differently. It was slightly tighter than the previous one. But the striped pattern on the outfit accentuated my non-existent hips in a very subtle way. Perhaps because I was wearing the khameez on top of my saree and petticoat my hips were a little larger than my real size. But the outfit contributed significantly to that and made them look even larger. I liked this outfit as well and decided to buy it too.

Two outfits and some lingerie was more than what I had bought in the entire previous year so I decided to skip the third one. I now picked up my blouse that I had earlier hung out on the hook. My eyes fell on the plastic bag from “She” Boutique that was hung on a hook next to the blouse.

I remembered the feel of the new bra in the trial-room in “She” and was just dying to wear the new bra. Reaching behind my back, I unhooked that bra that I was wearing. Removing the breast forms from the cups, I hung the bra on the hook. From inside the “She” bag, I selected one of the two white bras I had just purchased.

Placing the breast forms inside the cups, I slipped the bra up my arms and hooked it on my back. The forms needed slight adjustment inside the cups. I reached for the shoulder straps and adjusted them so that the bra felt comfortable. I reached for my blouse and slipped it up my arms, taking care to not snag the sleeve on my bangles.

As I adjusted the lower hem of the blouse on my abdomen, I could not help noticing that the bra made my “breasts” appear very pointed. As a man, I like that in women. And as a man, I liked it in the woman I had become.

I quickly hooked up my blouse and removed the pallu of my saree that I had tucked into the waist band of my petticoat. I decided that I was going to tease the world a little. I adjusted the pallu of the saree on my right breast so that the edge was positioned right on the nipple. And with a bra that had pointed cups, it looked rather “tit”illating!

After putting the bra which I had just taken off into the box from which the new bra was taken, I picked up my purse, the bag from “She” Boutique and the two dresses which I had chosen. Unlocking the door was a bit of a challenge because it was so tight. The other lady who had previously used the trial-room was still there.

She was explaining to the store owner that he had to do something about the bolt there. Suddenly she turned to me and said, “Did you too find it difficult to unbolt the door?”

Surprised, I replied, “yes.. it was tight.”

“See” she said as she turned back to the store owner. “It is a little tight.”

“I don’t understand how that is possible. When I use it, it does not seem tight.” He pleaded.

“You don’t get it do you?” She said. “For you, there must be some technique of pulling the door in a particular way and the bolt then yields. For us, who are not familiar with the way in which the door is to be pulled and especially because we are ladies and with much less strength, it is quite tough.. and since the space inside is so little, it is unnerving to imagine the prospect of being locked in such narrow surroundings for a long period!”

Turning to me, she said, “I don’t know why he cannot understand.. I guess it is part of being male!” I joined her laughter.

I was loving every moment of this. Here I was - a genetic male, dressed as a woman, speaking with a genetic female as a woman and laughing at males in general!

“I have seen you somewhere.” I said to the lady who was talking to me.

“Maybe. I am a little well known that way. I am Shobha Khilachand.” She said and held her hand out.

“Ah!” I said. “No wonder you looked familiar!”

I had seen pictures of Shobha Khilachand in many magazines. As the founder-editor of India’s foremost Film Gossip magazine, her efforts at being the best, spawned off an entire industry of gossip reporting. And although there were so many imitators, the original was still my personal favorite.

“What do you do nowadays? Do you still edit any magazines?” I asked her.

“I freelance – a column here and write up there. I am more or less a master or if you wish, mistress of my own time.” She replied.

“You might find something very interesting to write about if you contact my brother in Mangalore.” I told her. “Right now he is out of station on some private work. But next time you come to Mangalore, do call him up and tell him I asked you. I am due to return to Mangalore tomorrow morning and I will tell him that you might call up.”

“Why do you think that he may be interesting to write about?” she was curious.

“I am not going to share my and his little secret right now. You can decide if you are intrigued and interested enough and then if you do contact him, then I assure you, you will definitely feel like writing about him.” I told her.

“You make it seem so mysterious. Let me see if I have any reason to come to Mangalore. As of now, I am not planning to come there anyway. Could you give me his contact details?” she asked.

I rummaged through my purse and found my “Radha Baliga” business card. “By the way, I am Radha Baliga.” I introduced myself as I handed over my own business card. Although the business card was in the name of “Radha Baliga”, it did show my correct designation.

When she saw my designation as CEO of our company, she said, “I did not know that the most popular brand of Bidis had a woman at the helm. I must say - I am impressed.”

“Yes. Bidi making has been in our family for many generations. Our father built up our company after he took over the mantle after our grandfather’s retirement. I expect Radha will take up the mantle once Papa decides to retire.” I said.

“Radha? You are Radha. Are you going to take up the mantle and not your brother? That will be a big first.” She said.

“Oh! I am sorry. I am Radha the daughter of our parents. Since Radhakrishna is so long, we call my elder brother as Radha. In a way it is appropriate I guess.” I added a little mysteriously.

“And why is that?” She asked.

“There you go again.” I teased her. “Come to Mangalore and you will find out that too – as to why it is appropriate in a way to call my brother as ‘Radha’”.

“Ok. Now you have whetted my appetite. I must plan a trip to Mangalore then. Anyway, I have heard it is a beautiful country there…?” She said somewhat interrogatively.

“Yes. Very beautiful. Verdant countryside. Lot of rice fields, clean air, bright sunshine and very friendly people. Have you had an opportunity to taste Mangalore food?” I asked her.

“I might have. Do you know of any particular restaurant where you get Mangalore food, here in Bombay? What about the ‘Kamat’ chain?” she asked.

Kamat is a very well known chain of hotels in India and in places like the Middle East, UK and the US. The entire chain serves only Vegetarian food and is extremely popular as a fast food chain for Indian food.

“ ‘Kamat’ chain unfortunately serves a mix of what goes under the label of South Indian Food.” I said. “There are one or two places which I have heard of. One is a place called ‘Circle Restaurant’ in an area known as King’s Circle.”

“I know where King’s Circle is.” She said.

“Another is a place called ‘Gopalashram’ in Fort.” I said. On many occasions on my visits to Bombay in the past, I had visited both these places when I had felt like eating home-like Mangalore Food.

“I have one friend who is a Mangalorean but married to a Maharashtrian – Vimla Patil. She used to edit ‘Femina’ magazine.” She said.

I had been reading ‘Femina’ on the flight to Bombay.

“She might know of a good place to eat genuine Mangalorean food.” I suggested.

“Yes she might know.” She agreed.

“Well let me see if I do make it to Mangalore anytime soon, I will surely call your brother up. And yes, I would love to meet you once again. Even if the story with your brother does not work out to anything big, I will still love to meet you once again. You live in Mangalore too, right?” She asked.

“Yes. And when you meet my brother, you will definitely not be able to avoid meeting me too!” I said. “We are almost one and the same person.”

Paying for the two salwaar khameez sets, I stepped out of the store.

Chapter 19



Table of contents

Chapter 17 - Purchasing Lingerie

Chapter 17


Purchasing Lingerie


I had reached the point of no return. As I stepped through the door, a lady sales girl who was attending another customer – an expecting mother – said in Hindi, “Welcome madam. What would you like to have today?”

A trifle too softly, I said, “Brassiere.”

“Oh. Brassieres are all upstairs.” She responded, rather loudly I thought. Then it struck me, we were in a Lingerie Shop after all. If I had not come to buy brassieres, what had I come to buy, Potato Chips? Shaken out of my reverie, I heard her say to another male assistant, “Escort Madam upstairs.”

No sooner had she said that, the assistant glided out from behind the counter and motioned me to follow him up. Somewhere between stacks of boxes of bras, panties, girdles, slips, camisoles and the like, was a staircase with steps leading up. With the practiced confidence of someone who had done this a million times before, the assistant ran up the stairs. I followed demurely.

Here another sales girl was waiting. There were no other customers. Leaving us alone there, the assistant ran down to where he had come from.

“Yes madam, what style would you like?” She asked.

I said, “36C in cotton with pointed cups.”

“Madam, do you have any particular brand in mind?” she asked.

“Maidenform, Empress Style.” I responded.

“Yes we have that. Which color?” she asked.

“Two white and one black.” I said.

Reaching out behind her, she picked out two cardboard boxes with a green printing and then a third which was slightly below the first two. Pulling out the bras from inside, one by one, she opened them out with the cups pointing upwards like two mountains, the back straps spread out. “This one, madam.” She asked.

“Yes” I said.

I examined the three bras, closely. “Beautiful” I said to myself. The bras had concentric circles around the tip of each cup and I realized that when I wore it would look really lovely. I knew that is what I wanted.

Resisting the urge to caress them and as a matter of confirmation, I asked, “Are you sure that this is the size I need?”

“Madam, Try them on. The trial room is here.” She motioned to a corner.

A small partitioned area offered the privacy needed to make it into a Trial room. I told here I want to buy a “longline bra”. She said she did not understand.

I told her that I was looking for a bra whose bottom extended to the waist giving a good tummy flattening capability. This time she understood. Stepping to a different shelf, she picked out two longline bras both again in 36C one black and one white. The Black opened on the back while the white was front opening.

I have a marked preference for back opening bras, so I told her that I wanted that. She hesitated. I asked her what the matter was.

She said, “Madam, many ladies find back opening for longline bras difficult to maneuver. I would suggest the front opening one. Nevertheless, take both to the trial room, try both of them and you can choose whichever you like.”

Picking up both the longline and the three regular bras, I stepped into the trial room. This was a first for me. I was in a Lingerie shop, dressed as a woman, buying lingerie for myself. And everyone was treating me like a lady!

In the trial room there were a couple of hooks on the wall. On one of them, I hung my purse. I hung the bras on a second hook.

I took my pallu off my shoulder and tucked it in my waist to prevent my tripping and falling. I unhooked the blouse and took it off. Reaching behind, I unfastened my bra. Taking care to see that my breast forms did not pop out and fall on the floor, I peeled off my bra, holding the breast forms in my palms. Placing my blouse, bra and forms on one of the boxes inside the trial room, I reached for one of the bras on the hook. Deftly, I slipped each arm by turn and reached behind me and hooked the bra. Reaching for the forms, I placed them inside each cup. I tightened the shoulder strap and looked at myself in the mirror. The bra fit me like a second skin. My breasts appeared very pointed and as a man, I liked my own looks.

Reluctantly, I unhooked the bra and by turns I tried the other regular bras. Each fit me perfectly. Now I gave my attention to the black longline bra that opened on the back. Slipping my arms into them, I realized that it was very difficult to reach behind and hook all the 7 hooks correctly. The sales girl was right. I took it off and picked up the white Longline which opened in the front. This was infinitely easy. In fact it was too easy. I easily hooked all the hooks – they were 12 in number. I as hooked the lower ones, I realized that the bra was exerting increasing pressure on my tummy and it was appearing flatter and flatter. In comparison, my hips seemed to jut outward more as my tummy got more compressed and my waist appeared slimmer.

“This was amazing!” I thought. My silhouette appeared a perfect hourglass. Deciding to buy one longline and all three of the regular bras, I once again wore my own bra with my breast forms inside them. I wore the blouse, replaced the pallu and after giving one last look in the mirror, I unlatched the door.

Taking my purse with me, I returned all 5 bras to the sales girl. She asked, “Which did you like, Madam?”

I told her to pack all of them except the back opening longline. She said, “Very good, Madam. Almost everyone who first chose a back opening longline eventually end up not buying it. Our only sales of such bras are to women who don’t try it and refuse our advice and to men who buy it for their wives.”

“What else would you like madam? We have not only these kind of Daily wear bras but also some special occasion bras like bridal wear. Lacy ones, very small bras but in large sizes which cover only the most essential parts. We have panties also. Lacy ones and also larger daily wear in darker colors which you can use with stayfrees. We have thongs also.” She added.

I did not plan to buy such clothes, so I thanked her and told her that was all.

She prepared the bill and after paying cash downstairs, I left the store, very pleased with my purchases.

Chapter 18



Table of contents

Chapter 16 - After Lunch

Chapter 16


After Lunch


The ride to the hotel took just a few minutes. I collected the key to my room and went straight up. As I entered the room and locked the door, I was reminded of the advertisement of “She” Lingerie Boutique. I have always wanted to try out bras and panties in a lingerie store because that to me was the ultimate acceptance of me as a woman.

The Zari Kanjeevaram which I had worn to the lunch was a wee bit too ostentatious and “special-occasion”. So I decided to change.

I removed the pin which pinned my Saree Pallu to my blouse and kept it in place. In just a blouse and petticoat, I sat down to fold the saree. Being a Kanjeevaram which was being worn for the almost the first time, the creases where the saree was ironed and stored in the shelf were still quite obvious. I got the correct folds on my second attempt – not being accustomed to doing this.

I was wondering which saree to choose when an idea struck me – why not use the saree which the B’s had gifted me? After all since it was a saree which had been used in the past, it would have the beading done and fall attached.

Tearing open the package, I was surprised that there were a number of other things in the packet besides the saree. From within the folds of the saree, a blouse fell out. It turned out to be Mrs. B’s old blouse. Also included were a few bangles, a ring , a necklace and a packet of bindis – all of which matched the color of the saree.

Reaching out to the telephone, I dialed the residential number of the B’s that I had from my private collection. One of the servants picked up the phone. After identifying myself, I asked to talk to Mrs. B. Within a few seconds, Mrs B was on the line.

“Well, first and foremost thank you for a wonderful lunch today and the lovely gift.” I started.

“You are very welcome. Did you open the package?” Mrs B asked.

“Yes, very thoughtful on your part to include the jewellery, but why the blouse? I am not even sure I will fit into one of your blouses. You are so small compared to me.” I said.

“Actually, the blouse was made for my sister-in-law, Mola – ‘Mit’s brother ‘Jit’s wife. She is a lot bigger made than I am. I thought you might want to wear it on this trip because I noticed how thrilled you looked when you wore it here!” She said.

“Nothing escapes you, does it!” I joked. “Let me try it and let you know, ok? Are you going to be available at home after say, some 15 minutes or so?” I asked.

“We don’t plan to go out right now. In the evening we will be going out for a couple of hours to visit Anand Bakshi-ji in Bandra. We heard he is not keeping too well.” She told me.

“Ok then. I will call you after a short while.” I said and hung up after a polite and short farewell.

I reached out to each of my shoulders and unclipped the press-button that kept my bra under the blouse. Carefully I unhooked the blouse – the blouse opened in the front. Peeling off the blouse, pulled out my arms from the sleeves. Clad in only my black bra and black petticoat, I folded the blouse carefully. Like the saree, being a new blouse, the original creases were still evident. Using them as my guide, I folded the blouse accurately and placed it within the folds of the saree.

Now picking up the blouse which Mrs B had sent me, I raised my hands above my head and let the sleeve slip past my wrist. The blouse got entangled in the bangles I was wearing. I took off the blouse, removed my bangles and once again raised my arms. This time the blouse slipped smoothly down my bare forearms. Adjusting the shoulder, I hooked up the blouse using the hooks that are normally found there. The Blouse was a perfect fit. In fact it was more comfortable than my own blouse because of some special kind of construction of the underarms. In this blouse I could actually keep my hand on my shoulders and trace a circle in space with my elbows.

Curious, I removed the blouse and compared it with one of my other blouses and found that the blouse had an extra piece of cloth under the underarms which was absent in the blouse I had had stitched in Mangalore. I made a mental note to give this blouse as a sample to my tailor.

I called up the B household again and asked to talk to Mrs B.

She came on the line and I told her that I just loved the saree. She was very pleased. I asked her if they had any plans after their visit to the Anand Bakshi household. She replied that they had none.

"May I invite both of you for a light snack at the Searock at about 6 pm today then?" I asked.

"Just a minute, let me ask 'Mit." she said.

She was back in less than a minute and said, "Nothing would give us more pleasure. But I have one request to make."

"Yes?" I asked.

"I would like you to wear the saree I just gifted you. Use the blouse I gave you." She said.

I replied with a Hindi saying which literally translated meant "You took words out of my mouth". Colloquially it meant that I was planning to do that and we seemed to be of the same mind.

"I will eagerly be looking forward to seeing you fully dressed up in that saree." She said as we ended the conversation.

Returning to my dressing up, I realized that my black bra under a light yellow blouse would look quite out of place. I unhooked my bra. One of the things that my wife had taught me was that women never wore their undergarments once they removed them. Placing the breast forms on the bed, I picked up the bra. I went to the washbasin and quickly washed it and hung it out to dry on the shower rod. I was amazed at how just like a woman, I was behaving although my flat chest gave every indication of my being a man. The long hair and the made up face was a different proposition altogether.

From my suitcase, I selected a white bra and hooked it on my back. Placing the breast forms in the cups, I adjusted them so that they appeared just like a woman’s breasts outside the bra.

For the third time, I raised my hands and wore the blouse. This time I hooked the shoulder straps under the shoulder and hooked the blouse. Going to the mirror in the bathroom, I stood in front of the mirror and admired myself. Even a woman would feel proud of this “woman”. The sight of my bra under the light yellow semi transparent blouse was starting to excite me. I felt a stirring in my loins and realized I needed to wank off.

I untied my black saree petticoat and let it fall at my feet. The waist got snagged at my crotch for just a second notwithstanding the restraints placed on my manhood by the tight loin-cloth. Quickly, I pulled down my panties and released myself from under the loin cloth, I gave myself a quick wank in the wash basin. I looked quite novel – a perfect specimen of a woman but wanking off her large, excited penis in the wash basin!

Once done, I re-wore my loin cloth and pulled up my panties. A black petticoat under a yellow saree was not appropriate. Picking up the petticoat, which lay at my feet, I went to the room, folding it as I walked. The Loin cloth did a good job of keeping “me” in place and the contours of the panties were just like a woman’s.

Selecting the white petticoat which I had included for my other saree, I pulled it down my head. The petticoat snagged on my breasts as it usually does, but I pulled it down. Adjusting it to be properly placed just above the edge of my panties, I tied the drawstring. Next I pressed the petticoat down my thighs right upto the ankles so that the petticoat was now smoothed. Picking the saree, I wore it – it felt so soft on my hairless back and neck. My pleats were neatly tucked in and the pallu was properly adjusted.

Picking up each of the bangles, I slipped them on my right hand. I slipped the ring on my right hand. Mrs B had thoughtfully included a ring which was split so it was no problem to slip it on my ring finger. Selecting a round bindi in green, I pasted it smack in the middle of my forehead after removing the earlier one.

Having done that, I examined myself closely in the mirror. As a man, I realized why Mr B had chosen that color and that texture. It was indeed extremely feminine to touch and feel.

I picked up the newspaper and opened to the page where I had seen the “She” boutique ad in the morning. I made a note of the address and got ready to leave.

I gave a quick look around the room to see if nothing was amiss. The saree, petticoat and blouse, which I had just stripped off, lay neatly folded on the bed. My black bra was hung to dry on the shower curtain rod. I searched through my suitcase to take some money. I could not possibly pay with my credit card as it was in my male name. I picked up my purse and the keys to the room.

I reached the lobby within no time and as I handed the keys to the reception, asked for a taxi to be summoned. Stepping into the cab, I mentally remembered the address and said, ”Linking Road”.

“Where on Linking Road”, the cabbie asked. “Some store known as ‘Uncle’s Shop. Do you know where?” I asked. The cabbie knew.

In a few minutes, we were stopping right in front of the store known as Uncle’s Shop. As I prepared to cross the road, I noticed that “She Boutique” was in the same building, towards the left. The entrance was reachable through a passage which had a small store selling small trinkets like hairbands, earrings and the like. Crossing the road, I made my way through the mass of bodies which are typical on any given day at Linking road in the afternoon.

As I saw the doors to the boutique, for just a smallest moment, I hesitated. However confident I felt, I was still a man in a women’s clothes walking into a lingerie boutique, expecting to be taken for a woman and treated like one. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open and stepped in.

Chapter 17

Table of Contents

Chapter 15 - Dinner with the First Family of Bollywood

Chapter 15


Lunch


The man whose image made millions of Indian hearts go aflutter was waiting for me at the head of the steps. He had not changed much from our previous meeting in Zurich more than 6 weeks before.

“Hello” I greeted him in a feminine voice.

“Hello Radha. How are you?” he responded.

“I am fine. And you?” I replied.

“I am fine too.” He said. “Come on in.” Ever the gentleman, he held out his hand.

“Thank you.” I said and holding his hand, walked in.

Very softly, he said, “You look gorgeous, Radha.”

“Thank you.” I blushed.

Even as we were walking into a large seating area, Mrs B joined us and greeted us.

After formally introducing Mrs B to me, I was urged to sit next to her. As an ice breaker, she said to me, “You know if ‘Mit had not told me about you, I would never believe that you are really a man! You look so utterly feminine!”

“I know. I have been told this so many times in the past. But this time it is a big challenge! Because I had to fly as a woman!” I told her.

“Oh why did you need to do that?” She asked.

“Well, you know I could not afford to put your jewelry in the checked in baggage for fear of it getting lost. I had to wear it on the flight so that the security X-rays did not beep suspiciously.” I explained.

“Yes, but the danger of being robbed was always present isn’t it?” she asked.

“Yes. For one, I was lucky not to be robbed. For two, no one knew that I could give any robber, a good run for his money as I could either run after him or even beat him up!” I laughed both my hosts joined me laughing.

“Oh, By the way, the children, Abhi and Shwet are joining us for the lunch but both don’t know your little secret!” B said.

“It is better that way, I suppose. The lesser the number of people who know about my secret, the better for all concerned.” I said.

Suddenly, Mrs B said, “ How dumb of me! Here I am sitting and chattering with you and I have not even offered you a glass of water! Ram deen!” she shouted.

A man servant in a pajama appeared immediately. “Yes Madam.”

“Hadn’t I told you that I was expecting guests? Bring some water quickly and ..” turning to me Mrs B asked, “what would you like to have for starters? Some Fresh lime juice on this hot afternoon, perhaps?” she suggested.

“That would be nice.” I responded.

The servant left and almost within no time brought 3 glasses of water, and 2 glasses of Fresh Lime Juice. “Why two glasses? Aren’t both of you giving me company?” I asked looking from one to the other.

“Actually, ‘Mit does not drink anything except water, 1 hour or less before a meal. Doctor’s advice for his Myasthenia Gravis.” Mrs B said by way of explanation.

“Yes”, pipped in Mr B. “I have tried countless doctors and none has been able to cure it. Someone suggested an Ayurvedic Doctor down in Kerala in some place whose name starts with a K and which I cannot pronounce! His medicine seems to give me some relief but then there are some restrictions on the diet. Well, I guess, if he can give me relief, then the restrictions are worth subjecting oneself to!” he sighed.

“Yes”, I agreed.

A minute of silence followed. We had reached a sort of a dead end.

Then Mrs B asked, “But tell me this Radha – How did you end up being so good at impersonating a woman? After all, as a woman myself, I know how difficult it is to prepare myself before I present myself to the outside world.”

“Yes.” I agreed. “I started acting in female roles when I was in school and if I may so myself, was a great success in my very first attempt when I played Shakuntala.” I said.

“During College days I was instrumental in playing a prank which required me to dress up. I was so convincing, that I stayed in the girls’ hostel for one night!” I continued.

“Wow!” said Mrs B. “And looking at you now, I can believe that!” she added.

“Wait a minute. Come inside with me.” She said and holding my hand, led me into one of the passages which led from the main living room.

“Hey! What about me?” asked Mr B in mock dismay.

“No. This is none of your business! This is between us, ladies.” Said Mrs B adding further to my curiosity. Had she forgotten that I was really a man dressed up as a woman? I wondered.

Entering into what seemed to be the master bedroom, Mrs B quickly shut the door. Then she held my hand and made me sit on the bed.

“Now. I want you to tell me how you prepared yourself for this. Tell me everything!” She said.

“Well, of course the first requirement is removing all my hair except on the head.” I started.

“Yes. Then?”

“My wife Vidhya is very co-operative that way. She helped me choose and purchase my clothes.” I continued.

“Her taste is good!” responded Mrs B. “Look at this gorgeous green – it matches your complexion so nicely!”

“I should tell Vidhya that – she will be very pleased!” I said, smiling. “Well, to continue. We have a tailor in Mangalore who besides our immediate family and you, knows my little secret. But you know, we are so well connected in Mangalore, he does not dare open his mouth. Moreover, what does he care, so long as he gets paid for whatever he stitches!” I laughed.

Mrs B agreed. She offered to show me some of her good sarees and I agreed. One of her sarees was a yellow chiffon, a little transparent and not in keeping with the image that Mrs B had shown the world. It turned out that it was one of the very first sarees that her husband had purchased for her. That saree also happened to be the one in which Mr B got quite turned on!

Mrs B offered the saree for me to try on. “Are you sure?” I asked. She said, “Look if you were a real woman, I would have offered you the saree anyway. But then you are the image of a real woman so if you feel like trying it, go ahead – I am fine with it” she said.

“Ok. But you know, the blouse does not match but it contrasts nicely.” I said. “Yes and that is precisely why I offered it to you to try!” said Mrs B.

“Would you like me to step out, my dear?” Mrs B asked me.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind either way” I said.

“Ok then. Don’t mind but I would like to watch.” she said.

Unpinning my pallu from the back of my blouse, I peeled off the saree and pulled it out from where I had tucked it in into my petticoat. Luckily the loin cloth was doing a good job of restraining me, otherwise I would have been in real trouble!

After determining which was the right side, I quickly proceeded to wear the saree. Deftly measuring out the pleats on both the shoulder and the front, I was done within a couple of minutes.

“Wow!” said Mrs B admiringly. “You are an expert at wearing a saree! And look at you – your pleats are better than the ones I get. Wait a minute!” she said and hurried out.

In less than a minute, Mrs B came back with Mr B who looked at me with surprise. “Wow!” he said rather unoriginally. “Radha looks so good in it!”

“You know ‘Mit? I was thinking of gifting this saree to Radha as a special gift! I know you had given me the saree as a special occasion saree and I have many pleasant memories associated with it. But, Radha has been a truer friend to us than perhaps even those who have claimed their friendship for over twenty five years. So as a special gift, I want to give her this saree. Is it ok, darling?” Mrs B asked.

“I think it is an excellent idea.” agreed Mr B.

“So Radha! The saree is yours. I know that you can buy much better sarees than this but this saree has a special meaning for both of us and we are gifting it to you as a token of our love for you. Hope you like it and will accept it.” Mrs B said.

“I love it and in my wardrobe, it will have a special place. Now, can I change back, please?” I asked.

“Sure” said both Mrs and Mr B and left the room.

The saree really felt very nice. I have always had a soft corner for chiffons and this one was made one of the finest chiffon material I had ever come across. Quickly removing my saree, I once again wore my Kanjeevaram. I had just finished pinning my pallu on my blouse when I heard a knock on the door.

“One minute” I called and opened the door.

“Leave the saree as it is, Radha. The servants will fold it and give it to you. Come let us have lunch. The children have arrived too.” Said Mrs B to me.

Both Mrs B and I went to the Dining Room. Although there was nothing filmy about the house, it however spoke of a lot of class. Every item of decoration was not only chosen with care but had the stamp of sophistication. The Grandfather clock in the Main Room was a genuine antique. While the Cobalt Blue Bowl was an original Queen Silvia Commemorative Vase handmade in Skansen, Stockholm. Each little touch, personal, each nuance emitting a subtle, subliminal signal.

I was broken out of my reverie by the voice of Mrs B. “This way, Radha.” Mrs B’s voice finally reached me.

In front of me was a perfectly decorated Dining Table with five places. As the head of the family, Mr B was sitting at the head of the table. I found myself standing near the chair to his left. Opposite me was Mrs B’s seat.

Just as I was about to sit in the chair, Mrs B said, ”Radha, I want to introduce you to our children.” So saying she gestured to a teenaged young man, who had stood shyly on one side. He smiled at me, “Hello, I am Abhishek” he said and bent to touch my feet. Instinctively, I said, “May you live long!” A young girl now stepped forward and said, “Namaste, Auntie-ji, I am Shweta.” She too bent down and touched my feet. To her too, I said, “May you live long!”

I was very touched. Such well behaved children. Quite unlike what I had read about kids in the filmi families in so many film magazines!

I sat down and as a matter of conversation, asked them, “Do you go to school?”

“Yes” they answered politely and added “Bombay Scottish Orphanage.” I had heard of that school as one of the better schools in Bombay.

We continued the idle conversation during the meal. The food was superb. Being Kayasth, my hosts were vegetarians. We had some Fritters of Onion, Paneer and Potatoes as Appetizers. This was followed by a semi-transparent green pea soup. The first course was Rotis with a Sabzi of Cauliflower. This was followed by Rice and in deference to my South Indian Origins, Sambhar and Rasam with fried Papads – South Indian style. Finally a dessert of the richest Gajar Ka Halwa – turned out that Gajar Ka Halwa is Mr B’s particular favorite.

I joked that the proverbial “Gajar Ka Halwa that you love and which I cooked with my very own hands” dialog in so many Hindi movies was at the very least half true – the part of “cooked with my very own hands” being the fictional part!

After such a sumptuous lunch, I was finding it rather difficult to keep my eyes open. So I opted to have tea.

It was nearly half past two. Having spent a pleasant time at the B residence, I decide to initiate my departure. With the usual, “you must come home when you are in Mangalore” kind of invitation, I took leave. A packet containing the gift of yellow chiffon saree was handed to me. My taxi had been summoned inside the compound by then. I boarded the taxi and waved the first family of Indian Filmdom farewell as the taxi moved out of the compound

Chapter 16

Table of Contents

Chapter 14 - Meeting the Big B

Chapter 14


Meeting the Big B


The gentle but incessant ringing of a telephone penetrated my sleep so very gently. It was an unfamiliar ring – not the sound of my office telephone which was loud and jarring – no, this was different, soothing almost! Somehow, I reached out to where the sound was coming and groggily said, “Hello!”

“Good morning Sir!” a male voice said at the other end. “This is the wake up call which was set for 7:30 am.”

“Thank you.” I said and disconnected.

It was just an instant later that I realized that I had spoken to the receptionist all the time in a male voice! A little bit of quick thinking made the innocent Radha Baliga a customer of a gigolo who had apparently answered the phone!

I sat up in the bed and wiped my eyes. My face felt surprisingly smooth. I realized that the layers of make up on my face had had a smoothening effect on it.

Getting up slowly, I made my way to the bathroom. I found that my smalls had dried up completely. After quickly going through the typical morning rituals of brushing my teeth and the 3 Sh’s (Shit, Shave and Shower), I stepped out of the bathroom with just a bath towel around my middle. It was getting close to 15 minutes past 8 o’clock. I quickly opened my suitcase and laid out my clothes for the day.

I was going to have lunch with the Big B and I had brought along a specially chosen Kanjeevaram Saree for the purpose. The saree was Brown colored with an elaborate border on it. It did not however have any zari on it. The body was full of small embroidered motifs – all same but symmetrically arranged – what the shop salesman had called as “Butti”. The Pallu was the part which I had liked the most – it was the most elaborate pallu, I had ever come across and I thought that it looked very good inspite of not having any zari on it.

Since the saree and the blouse were dark colored, I selected the black bra which I had washed the previous night as also the red panties. Using my loin cloth to tuck myself in, I slipped into the panties. I hooked the bra and inserted the breast forms into each of the cups.

Now I sat to do my face. Within almost no time, I was done and ready for the wig.

The phone rang and I looked at the bedside clock – it was quarter to nine.

“Hello” I said in my feminine voice.

“Good morning, madam. I was calling to ask about the breakfast. What would you like to have today, madam?” A female voice asked me.

“What do you have on the menu?” I countered.

“We can give you eggs in whatever way you like, South Indian breakfast which has Idli, Dosa, Uttapam or Upma. Also North Indian, which has Aloo Tikki and Bread Pakoras.” She responded. “What would you like to have, madam?”

“Get me a plate of Idlis and a Masala Dosa. Also do you have filter coffee?” I asked.

“Filter Coffee? Yes, Madam. Shall I add a Carafé of Filter Coffee?” she asked.

“Yes, please. How long will it be, before I get the breakfast served?” I asked.

“Fifteen minutes.” She said.

“Make it twenty-five minutes please.” I told her.

“Very good, madam.” She said. “So you would like to have breakfast at 9:10 then.” She added as a measure of confirmation.

“Ye-es.” I said, as I mentally calculated. “Thank you and good-bye.”

“Good bye.” She said and I put the receiver down.

Resuming, I quickly attached my wig and brushed the hair in place.

Now I wore the blouse and then the black Saree petticoat. I unwrapped the saree which already had the fall attached and beading done. It looked gorgeous!

Carefully, I wore the saree and pleated the pallu. I pinned the saree on to my blouse at the back. The pleats were just perfect. The border of the Kanjeevaram saree was exactly aligned with the shoulder stitch of my blouse and the upper border was precisely centered on my right breast.

I looked at myself in the mirror for a while scrutinizing everything and when I was satisfied, I walked towards the telephone. As if on cue, the phone rang. It was the room service lady.

“Good morning madam. Your breakfast is ready. Would you like me to bring it to the room now, please?” A polite woman’s voice asked.

“Yes, please”. I replied in my feminine voice.

“Very good, madam. I should be there in less than a minute. Good Bye.” So saying she hung up.

True to her word, in less than a minute, my breakfast was brought in on a trolley pushed in by a uniformed room service attendant. It was the same lady who had talked to me on the telephone less than a minute before.

“Good Morning Ma’am. Shall I keep it next to that easy chair?” She asked.

“Yes please.’ I said.

And like any woman, she said, “That is a beautiful saree madam.”

“Thank you.” I told her.

She lingered a little, hesitated and then turned to me and said, “Madam, may I ask you a question?”

“Yes..” I replied interrogatively.

“Where did you buy this saree?” she asked.

“Oh! I bought it in Mangalore.” I told her.

“Really, Madam. It is a very beautiful saree.” She repeated.

“Thank you very much.” I said to her.

As she closed the door behind her, I started on my breakfast.

The idlis were hot and steamingly delicious. So was the Masala Dosa. And the coffee at the end was just like home made coffee.

By the time I finished my breakfast, it was about 10:15. I was expected at Mr B’s home between 11:45 and noon. And since I was staying in Juhu, it was a very short ride from the hotel to the home – barely 15 minutes or so.

So I picked up the Femina I had purchased at Bangalore Airport and leafed through that. One of the advertisements caught my eye. It featured a lady in a salwaar khameez, which I thought was gorgeous. I felt like buying one for myself.

Quite surprised at myself, I wondered what was happening to me. Dressed as a woman, I was starting to think like one too – look at a nice outfit and feel like having one made for oneself!

I looked up the address and found out it was on Linking Road. I made a mental note to go there after the lunch.

All of sudden, I remembered that Mr B was expecting my "sister" to fetch the jewellery but here was me, en femme! So I decided that I would phone him up and inform him. I was worried how he would be able to accept a man in women's clothing calling on him socially. Anyway it was too late to change anything.

The phone was answered by a man servant. Soon I was talking to Mr B. I explained (in my male voice) that my sister could not make it but I had personally come to deliver his goods. He was very pleased and said that he looked forward to meeting me again. I hesistated over what to say next and he sensed it immediately.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

I said, "Not exactly." But went on to explain what the situation was.

For a moment he was silent. Then he said, "If you are comfortable about how you are dressed, then I have no problem. But then how do I interact with you? As a man or as a woman?"

"As a woman of course." I replied. "Besides, I think you will do it naturally. Just forget that I am really a man. Ok?"

"Ok. If that is what you prefer. But one thing." he said. "I will have to tell the reality to my wife. If that is ok with you. And by the way, what will be your name?"

"Radha Baliga." I replied and added, "My wife knows all about it. You are the only one outside of the family who now knows about this. And frankly, I think you will enjoy me and so will your wife."

"Ok" he said and we ended the call after exchanging some more pleasantries.

I still had nearly 10 minutes before it was time to leave for Mr B’s home for lunch, so I picked up the newspaper which came in with the breakfast. It was the Indian Express. Being a fast reader, I finished the paper within no time. Having still some more time to kill, I started reading the advertisements. One particular advertisement caught my eye. It was on the fist page next to the paper’s masthead.

‘“She” Boutique’ the ad said. It was a lingerie boutique. It sold bras, panties, corsets and, intriguingly as an afterthought, “Mother and Baby”. The stupidity of the copywriter really amused me. Without reading what the rest of the copy was, he or she simply added “Mother and Baby” which when read together sounded as if mother and baby were also part of the merchandize sold by “She”!

I was now ready for the final stages of preparation for the lunch at Mr B’s home. I wore some of Vidya’s jewelry – bangles, ring, necklace and a clip earring. Mr B’s jewelry which he had given me in Zurich went into another bag which in turn went inside my handbag. Vidya had thoughtfully packed a pair of delicate little silver anklets. I fastened them round each of my ankles and the sound they made as I walked was just pure melody.

I had asked for a taxi to pick me up at 11:30 and it was now about 11:20. I went to the bathroom mirror and gave myself a thorough once-over. While sitting to read the Femina and the newspaper, I found that I had slightly changed the position on the waist where my petticoat had been tied. I fixed that immediately and checked my appearance once again. It was just perfect!

I went to the bed and picked up my handbag – everything was there, money, keys, the bag containing the jewelry – everything.

I picked it up and the phone rang. It was the reception informing me about the taxi. I told them that I would be down in just a minute or so. I also told them to tell Housekeeping to clean up my room.

Ensuring that all my things were in my suitcase and that the suitcase was locked, I picked up my handbag and walked to the door. Walking like a woman was becoming almost second nature to me in this entire trip!

In less than a minute, I was in the reception. The receptionist wished me and pointed in the direction of where the taxi was waiting.

I got into the taxi as the driver held the door open. “Ashirwad Bungalow” I said to the driver.

“Where specifically?” the driver asked.

“Take me to the bungalow itself.” I told him.

Within no time it seemed, we were outside the gates of India’s most famous bungalow. I told the driver that I would be gone for about one and a half to two hours and that he should go and have his lunch if necessary. If he was going out, he should tell the security guard both, before going off and when he returned.

“Very good, madam.” he said.

I stepped out of the taxi and walked to the gate. I had to be careful to be perfectly feminine in my movements. The security guard had already been instructed and when I approached, saluted me smartly and opened a small gate next to the large vehicular gate to let me in. Gesturing me along the path to the bungalow, he shut the gate and clanged the bolt in place.

I had reached the point of no return. I realized that I would be under the scrutiny of all of Mr B’s family members. As these thoughts ran through my mind, I found myself on the steps of the bungalow and right in front of me was the great man himself.

Chapter 15

Table of Contents

Chapter 13 - Close Shave!

Chapter 13


Close Shave!


I reached my room and decided to change out of my saree. I took off my saree, blouse and petticoat but retained my panties and bra. I used the Bathrobe which was thoughtfully provided in the hotel room.

I needed to have a little coffee so I went into the bathroom where one normally finds a coffee percolator. Inside the bathroom, I chanced to look at my image and was amazed at my appearance. I looked absolutely feminine. A little busty perhaps but very very feminine.

That image of me in a black bra and red panties, got me excited and I took of my panties and loin cloth and did a quick wanking. Once again I tucked myself in and re-wore my panties.

Now, I was ready to call up Vivek. After two or three redials, I managed to get through – but it was not Vivek. It was a male voice but said, “This is Ragini.”

In my feminine voice, I said, “Hi Ragini, This is Radha. Can I speak to Vivek please?”

She said, “Sure Ma’am?”

Just a few seconds later, Vivek came on the line.

“Hello Radha! How ya doing?” He greeted me. His voice sound just a wee bit sloshed. Personally, because I don’t drink, I don’t enjoy talking to people who are high. Nevertheless, I continued.

“I am doing good. Listen, I have been thinking. Can you tell me the address of the place where your party is? I would like to consider attending it.” I said to him.

“Oh sure!” he said and gave me an address.

I was somewhat familiar with that place. I called up the reception and told them to have a cab ready in 15 minutes.

I chose my light blue chiffon for the evening – I had liked the feel of the saree when we purchased it in Mangalore. Since my bra would be quite visible under the light blue blouse, I decided to change the bra too. I chose the white one and slipped it on. Quickly wearing the blouse and a light blue saree petticoat, I wore the saree – by now I was quite an expert at wearing a saree. I had barely tucked in the waist pleats and was adjusting the pallu, when the phone rang. It was the reception telling me that the taxi had arrived.

I told them I would be down in a minute. Quickly daubing a little perfume under my ears, I slipped into my flat pumps. I realized that all my clothes were lying about higgledy-piggledy around the room. I quickly picked them up and tossed them into my suitcase and locked it up.

After checking for money inside my purse, I picked it up, tossed the room key in, opened the door and stepped out. Walking as quickly as a lady would, I reached the lift in less than a minute. Luckily, I had no other passengers in the lift – less chances of being under scrutiny.

I indicated to the reception that I would retain the room keys with me and stepped out of the foyer to the cab.

The cab was a Grey colored Ambassador. The driver greeted me, “Good evening Madam!” and held the door open for me.

I climbed in and the door was closed. I told the driver to take me to Vile Parle (East).

The ride took to Vile Parle (East) took no more than 10 minutes. “Where exactly in Vile Parle (East), madam?” asked the driver in typical Bombay Hindi.

I told him, I would direct him. Being familiar with the place, I directed the car straight to the place and asked the driver to stop some fifty feet short of the actual venue of the party.

The venue for the party was a single storied bungalow. I still had grave apprehensions about going for the party, mainly because I remembered that Vivek sounded quite sloshed.

Seeing that there was no one in the street, I asked the driver to switch off the engine and headlights and told him that I wanted to wait in the car for a few minutes.

I had chosen the spot for stopping the car with great care. It was in a shadowy part of the slightly wooded street and the light from the street lamps did not light up our car. Moreover, the grey color of the car effectively hid us from any curious glances.

It was already past 11 in the night and in spite of being a Friday evening, there was not much activity in this basically residential street. Only some sounds of music drifted in our direction whenever there was a slight breeze.

A few minutes after our wait started, I noticed two persons one in a man’s suit and one in a Salwar Khameez come out of the compound. The man had his arms round the other’s waist. Both were staggering and quite obviously drunk. The Salwar Khameez clad person was too tall for a woman and by the walk, it was obvious it was a cross-dressed man. The driver did not seem to notice that it was a man who was in a Salwaar Khameez and even if he did, he just ignored the spectacle. I, for one, observed without seeming to do so.

As I watched, I saw the man in the suit kiss the figure in the Salwar Khameez. The kiss was long and frankly it was the first time I was seeing gay kissing in real life! Not being gay myself, I decided that this particular party was more a gay party than a Transvestite party.

Less than a minute later, I asked the driver to take me back to the Hotel. He was a little surprised that I had hired him just for a drive to a house in Vile Parle (East) to observe a house for a few minutes and then we were going back without my even getting out of the car! But then who was he to question – he was getting paid for the service, anyway!

In less than 15 minutes we were back at the hotel. I paid up the cabbie and went back to my room.

Thanking my stars for the close shave I had just had, I changed out of my wig, saree, blouse, petticoat, bra, panties and loin cloth and into the bath robe again.

I decided to have a soak in the tub and prepared my bath quickly. Realising that the weather in both Bangalore and Bombay was quite hot, I decided that I needed to wash up my smalls. So I picked my two bras, loin cloth and the pair of red panties and washed them up in the wash basin using my bath soap.

I hung them out to dry on the shower curtain rod – just like any woman would do. I also rinsed out my breast forms and gently wiped them dry with a cloth napkin. After that I stepped into the tub and had languorous soak for a quarter of an hour.

Little by little the tiredness from my limbs seeped out. Quickly showering the excess soap from my body, I dried myself with a towel.

Selecting a fresh dry bra from my suitcase and pair of fresh panties, I stepped into them and inserted the forms into the bra cups. Without my loin cloth, the panties strained to keep “me” in place.

I took out the nighty and pulled it over my head. I took a glance in the mirror – even without the makeup and the mirror, I looked quite feminine like a lady with very short hair – I guess it was the hairless appearance which was responsible.

The bed looked inviting and after watching some inane TV (Television!) programs, I was soon feeling quite sleepy.

Calling Reception one last time, I asked them to wake me up at 7:30 am. When they asked me whether I wanted Bed Tea, I told them to send it up at 9 am.

Switching off the lights and the television, I soon fell fast asleep.

Chapter 14

Table of Contents

Chapter 12 - The Flight

Chapter 12

The Flight


The drive to the Airport was quite smooth and uneventful. The usual traffic jam chaos on MG Road in Bangalore where the Taj is located was very much in evidence, but my scheduling had made provisions for that.

Within 20 minutes, I arrived at the airport. After unloading the wheelie from the trunk of the taxi, I paid the cab driver and proceeded to the check in counters. There were very few passengers waiting there. Since I was traveling First Class, I could go to a separate counter where there was no one.

After a perfunctory set of questions, I got my boarding card and went through the security check. It was a little odd to be scanned for metal by a woman constable. My bra hook caused a beep which she ignored – she must have been accustomed to that. Otherwise it was a breeze to pass through the security.

I resisted the urge to purchase a Business Magazine and instead went for a Femina and chose a quiet seat for myself. I was browsing through the magazine, when I felt a pair of eyes on me from across the waiting area.

Trying not to appear too obvious, I discerned that they belonged to a young, fair skinned clean shaven man in a business suit. I did not recognize him so I must have made some sort of an impression on him.

Soon, my flight was announced and I made my way to the gate. I had chosen an aisle seat. I located my seat and as I was about to heave my wheelie into the cabin baggage compartment, I heard an “Allow me, ma’am” behind me. I turned around to see the same young man who was staring at me in the terminal.

“Oh! Thank you!” I said to him, smiling. He easily lifted my wheelie into the luggage hold.

As I sat down in my seat demurely, I noticed that the young man was seated in the seat across the aisle. The window seat on his other side was occupied by an older man while the seat next to me was empty.

Soon our aircraft was pushed back and the captain announced that we were ready for take off. I noticed that the seat next to me remained empty. As soon as the seat belt sign was switched off, the young man reached across and asked me if I minded if he sat in the window seat next to me. “I would like to rest my head on the window and catch a few winks,” he said by way of an explanation. I told him I didn’t mind.

So as he picked up his suit coat to move over, I used the opportunity to use the rest room. Frankly, I wanted to take one more look at myself – being seen across the waiting area is far more desirable than being under scrutiny at less than 2 feet distance!

One of the fore toilets was empty and I stepped into it. I needed to use the toilet too. Taking care to sit down, I finished a short toilet and tucked myself in once again. I pulled up my panties and pressed down my saree in place. Then in the confines of an aircraft toilet, I gave myself a thorough examination. Nothing was amiss and everything was in its place.

Feeling a little adventurous, I closed the toilet seat and unpinned my pallu from my blouse. I adjusted my saree in such a way that my “breasts” were a wee bit more visible on the side that my new co-passenger was going to sit. If he wanted it that way, I was going to titillate him too! The saree was adjusted in such a way that I would need to keep tugging at it to cover myself more modestly but I would still end up exposing myself a wee bit. As a man, I knew that it turned on any man!

Pinning my pallu once again on my blouse, I took one last look at myself and stepped out of the toilet. I walked back to my seat without any further incident and sat down – taking care to not flop down on my seat as I would have done if I was not dressed like a woman.

Soon, the young man returned to his seat. We were served with a dinner of Chicken Biryani and some side dish which I could not recognize. I ate mine quietly and expected the guy next door to nod off – there were still some 45 minutes before our scheduled touch down at Bombay. But no such luck!

Soon, he was in animated chatter with me. It turned out that he was a Sales Director for a Major Multinational Pharmaceutical firm and was in fact one of the hot shot stars in his organization. He told me that under his direction, his company’s sales of an Iron Supplement had increased some 47% in the previous year.

As he was very insistent, I told him that I was going to stay in Sun N Sand for the next two days. I was quite surprised that he insisted on dropping me off at the hotel. I put my foot down and refused outright.

“I want to tell you something, if you don’t mind” he said somewhat softly.

“Uh Oh!” I said audibly.

“Nothing new, just that…” his voice trailed off and he pulled out his Business Card from his pocket, scribbled something on its back and handed it over to me.

I thought this was just one more way of introducing himself to me. I read the card in my hand. It told me his name was Vivek Khanna and the address was that of an office in Bombay.

“So you are based in Bombay”, I said to him by way of conversation.

“Yes”, he said “but I want you to see is on the back side of the card.”

I turned it around and what I read made me go pale. I am sure even under my layers of make up my loss of color was obvious.

In a neat handwriting, he had written, “I am a tranny, too!”

Obviously, I had been read! He knew I was a man dressed as a woman!

Recovering quickly, I said to him, “That’s interesting!”

For a few minutes, there was silence between us, as I gauged the extent of impact on me and my life by the revelation of my secret. Then I asked him softly, “Tell me how often do you get a chance to dress up.”

“Actually today evening, I am going to attend a party where there will be quite a few Crossdressers. And I was wondering if you would be interested in coming with me,” he said.

“Look, I am dressed up for a specific purpose. I am not looking for any kind of sexual or any other kind of adventure of any sort. I am happily married as a man and any relationship outside of marriage does NOT interest me. So if you or any of your friends are looking something in this direction, then just forget it!” I told him quite firmly.

“Honestly, I am not interested in getting you into any such mess either. I invited you only because my friends who are also straight males, would possibly be interested in the way in which you have managed to get such an exquisite image of a modern woman that only another tranny like me could read you. There are a lot of things we all can learn. I was just hoping you would share it all with me and my friends that is all.” He said by way of explanation.

“I am not sure I want to be part of any such group. But let me think about it for a little while.” I told him.

I was silent for a long time after that. All kinds of thoughts were passing through my mind at that time. Soon the seat belt sign was switched on and I buckled up my seat belt and in a few minutes we were in the Terminal Building.

As I was hailing a cab, Vivek caught up with me. “I wondered if you have decided anything…” he let the words trail off.

I had noticed that he had listed his cell phone number on his business card. “Can I call you up on your Cell phone?”.

“Sure.” He said. “The party was scheduled to start at 9 and would have gone on till at least midnight. It is in Vile Parle (East) and you can come in any time.”.

I told him that I would call him up either way and bid him good-bye.

I reached Sun’ N’ Sand Hotel within 10 minutes and checked in. My mind was still in turmoil as I wrestled with the dilemma of whether to contact Vivek later or not.

I finally decided that I would contact him.

Chapter 13

Table of Contents

Chapter 11 - Becoming Radha once again

Chapter 11


Becoming Radha once again

I was very excited about being able to travel as Radha. It was in a way presenting me with great challenges.

This was for the first time that I was dressing up as Radha in India. In Netherlands, I was dressed up as an Indian woman and was as exotic to Dutch eyes as perhaps a Dutch crossdresser. But in India, the challenges were greater.

I was going to be an Indian woman. I was going to be an Indian woman in the presence of other Indian women and men. I was going to be an Indian woman not on stage but in real life. And further, I was flying out as an Indian woman. In India, flying is regarded as the rich man’s mode of transportation. So if a woman was flying, she would be impeccably dressed and made up. Since I was going to become Radha all by myself in Bangalore, I did not even have the benefit of any make up wizardry that Vijaya practiced only in Mangalore. So, I was literally completely on my own.

My first activity was to purchase some clothes – both for the flight and for the stay in Bombay. Although this was the mid eighties and Salwaar Khameezes were becoming very popular, I could not possibly go dressed in a Salwaar Khameez for a formal event like a lunch at the topmost hero of the Indian Film Industry. I had to be dressed in a Saree.

So Vidhya and I decided that I had to first purchase a few sarees for me. I felt that I could handle chiffon sarees easily, while for the lunch I wanted to have a slightly more elaborate and pricey saree.

We completed the purchases the same afternoon and by evening, the order for the blouses was already placed. In all I was to have four sarees sets to take with me. One was a light blue chiffon. Another was a pale yellow chiffon with a little print on it. The third was a traditional Kanjeevaram style saree but with no zari on it. The fourth was another chiffon, this time in dark green.

For each of the sarees, I was to have matching blouses and saree petticoats. Since I was traveling on my return trip back to Mangalore as a male, I needed to carry one set of male clothes in addition to my female clothes. Vidhya helped me to select matching bindis, footwear and other accessories like a handbag. I was planning to use the wig and breast forms we had purchased in Amsterdam during our honeymoon.

The blouses arrived a day before the journey, after which I packed my bag. I was to travel to Bangalore on a Friday morning and board the Friday evening flight to Bombay from Bangalore. As I would reach Bangalore early in the afternoon, I would have the entire afternoon to prepare myself as Radha. My ticket to Bombay was already booked in the name of “Ms Radha Baliga”, while the ticket from Bombay to Mangalore was booked in the name of “Mr Radhakrishna Baliga”.

Late on Thursday night, I removed all my body hair and Vidhya lightly shaped my eyebrows – nothing elaborate, just touching them up in such a way that I looked more like I was well groomed than like a woman’s eyebrows.

The next morning, I did not have a shave before the journey. In my experience, I knew that not having a shave once, results in a much closer shave than normal. So I was going to have a shave at the very last minute in Bangalore in the hotel.

The trip from Mangalore to Bangalore was uneventful. It took us just over some 6 hours to reach the hotel. I was already booked in the Taj in Bangalore. After bidding our driver good bye, I checked into the hotel. I told the reception staff that I would be staying only for the afternoon and also that I was paying the full amount in advance and further that I was not to be disturbed in my room at all. Even while checking out, I would be informing them by telephone from somewhere that I had checked out and that after receiving that telephone call, they could safely go into my room and get it cleaned. I planned on leaving the room keys in the room when departing for the airport.

The flight was at 8 pm that evening. I knew that I needed about 90 minutes to transform myself into Radha. With nearly 90 minutes advance check in time and a drive of about 30 minutes, I had to start preparing as Radha no later than 5 pm without including the time required to shave.

It was nearing 3:30 pm so I immediately ordered some food for lunch. The food arrived by 4 and as soon as the plates were cleared, I started my preparations.

I had a close shave – 4 passes in all, 2 in the downward direction, two in the upward direction. I had a nice languorous hot soak in the tub for about 10 minutes. The tiredness from my limbs disappeared soon. Scrubbing myself clean of the soap, I inspected all the exposed parts of my body for any sign of masculinity. To all appearances, I was just a completely hairless male.

As I dried myself after stepping out of the tub, I realized that I was having the very smooth and silky body of a well cared for woman. The only things that were different were the absent pair of breasts and a penis in place of a vagina.

After drying myself completely, I sprinkled copious quantities of talcum powder on my body – like most Indian women. Wrapping myself in a bath robe provided by the hotel, I started to prepare myself.

I started with my face. First the light colored foundation, then the darker colored one. One by one, each of Vijaya’s instructions passed through my mind as I followed them. Within just 40 minutes, my face looked like a very short haired woman.

Now I started with my clothes. For the flight I was going to wear the dark green saree. Since the blouse was very dark, I chose to wear a black bra under it. I filled up the bra with the breast forms we had purchased in Amsterdam and hooked it on my back. After using the toilet for one last time, I wore my loin cloth to tuck myself in and wore a pair of red panties on top of them. I wanted to wear panties in this trip because in Bombay if any of the room service staff were to sneak a peak inside my bag, they would see only a woman’s wardrobe because my male clothes were all inside a brown paper bag. Even my shaving set was inside a brown paper bag – anyway, women did shave their legs so it could be explained away!

I slipped into a matching saree petticoat and tied it up at my waist. Next I wore my blouse. As usual my tailor had done a great job of stitching it. It fit me perfectly.

Next, I wore my sandals. I had read somewhere that when one wears a saree, it is best to wear one’s footwear before starting to wear the saree. That way, one gets the exact length of the saree so that the sandals can be exposed or hidden under the saree to the exact extent that one desired. Now the saree. The pleats were perfect, the pallu was of the right length and on my hairless body, I thought the green color looked very well. I snipped the press buttons on my shoulder to keep my bra strap hidden under my blouse. Since I was going to present myself as a desirable woman on the flight and thereafter, I tugged the pallu ever so slightly at the spot between my breasts before I pinned it on my blouse at the back. The result was that my C Cup “breasts” were more clearly defined. I knew that men would be eyeing them lasciviously!

Then I wore the some of the jewellery which Mr B had given to us in Zurich – it seemed such a long time ago! The rest of them I put them along with a bunch of keys in a small clothbag inside my purse. The objective was to confuse the security guard at the X-Ray checking machine to think that the metal of the jewellery was part of the bunch of keys.

The bangles were next followed by the rings and the toe rings. (Although my wrists are small and Mrs B’s bangles fit me like they had been made for me, I was forced to wear two of the rings given to me by Mr B on my little finger instead of the ring finger. On the little finger, I wore one of Vidhya’s diamond rings to complete the picture.) Unfortunately, I could not wear earrings because my ears which were pierced in my baby hood like all Hindu children had long got filled up. So I had to make do with my own clip earrings.

I, now, wore the wig cap first and then the wig. I took care to style it in a way that would suit my face and pasted a bindi on my forehead. I was almost done except for my false nails which I planned to apply last. From experience I knew that men who are not accustomed to wearing nails invariably found it difficult to adjust to their presence.

I put away my make up articles, checked my purse for the presence of all essential things like a handkerchief, powder compact, my wallet (male one), money, airline ticket and the jewellery which I had already put in.

Finally, I sat to put on my nails. A drop of adhesive on each nail, press down the nails and finally file them to the required almond shape. I had on a pink color pre-applied which matched my lipstick. The bindi was green which matched the color of my saree.

Now I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself with a critical eye. If I may say so myself, I was very pleased with the result. My saree was perfectly worn, the blouse fit me like a second skin, the pallu was of the right length, the hair was all in the proper place and the face was that of a very beautiful woman.

With a hand held mirror, I inspected my back. The saree was positioned perfectly diagonally across my back, the pattern of the black bra under my green blouse was also perfect, even the outline of my panties under my saree and the petticoat was also perfectly feminine. In the front, the loin cloth had done a great job and my crotch outside the saree was feminine smooth!

Completely satisfied, I put the last remaining things into my wheelie, picked up my purse and made my way to the door of the suite I was occupying. For a moment I hesitated, wondering if I could pull through with this. Picking up my nerve, I decided that I could since everything had gone well till now, I could go ahead with all the plans.

I took care to leave the keys in the room, and pulled the wheelie into the corridor. As I approached the lift, one of the room service boys who was in the corridor, wished me “Good evening, Madam!” I wished him back and felt good to see that he did not do a double take at my soft, slightly husky feminine voice. If at all, his eyes lingered over my breasts for just that one little moment before he resumed his work! I knew I had passed his scrutiny!

Now with renewed confidence, I walked into the lift, which was empty and pressed the lobby button. Soon I was in the lobby. I stepped out and without a glance in the direction of the reception, I walked to the exit. No one gave me a second glance. I had the usher hail a taxi for me for the airport for which I tipped him a tenner.

The usher loaded the wheelie into the trunk of the cab, and then held the door open for me. I stepped in and realized that my left leg got slightly exposed till the middle of my shin. Thankful for having epilated my legs, I sat in the cab and said, “Airport”.

As we got out of the hotel compound, I glanced at my watch to check the time – it was 5:45 pm – I was a quarter of an hour ahead of schedule.

Chapter 12

Table of Contents

Chapter 10 - Further Adventures

Chapter 10

Further adventures


After the fiasco at Taj Mahal, Vidhya and I badly needed something to relax our nerves. So we opted to open the wine bottle first and have a couple of pegs each.

It was the first time that either of us were drinking any liquor. The wine tasted very sour at first. But gradually as we continued to sip, the taste became much more palatable. Soon we were feeling very pleasant all round.

Vidhya had taken off her jeans complaining that they were too tight. I had taken off only my saree. The shirt that Vidhya had worn to our dinner at Taj Mahal was somewhat long. I thought the peek-a-boo glimpses of Vidhya’s pink panties was quite a turn on.

I lifted my saree petticoat and pulled down my pantyhose first and then my panties and finally the loin cloth. Completely free of all restrictions, my penis, already excited, a big stick seemed to be pointing parallel to the ground out of my saree petticoat Vidhya could not help laughing at my predicament!

Soon, we were up to the one thing that all honeymooning couples do ……. After an hour of love making, I lay exhausted on the bed. Vidhya was exhausted too and soon both fell asleep.

The next morning we were scheduled to do some sight seeing and proceed in the evening by train to Zurich in Switzerland. As has always been with us Indians,

Switzerland is a very popular destination for honeymooning couples.

We went to a small park near Amsterdam where one of the features was a miniaturized version of the city of Amsterdam – complete with moving cars, trains and the like.

Later in the evening we checked out of the hotel and boarded the overnight train to Zurich. We reached Zurich early in the morning. After checking into our hotel, I set out all by myself to visit the local branch of Union Bank of Switzerland.

This bank is one of the better known amongst the Swiss Banks. It has a highly secure system and the Branch Manager Mr Kohl is the very personification of discretion. After he had dealt with another customer, he ushered me into his private office – the sanctum sanctorum so to speak.

Mr Kohl had already been informed about the nature of my business with him, so with all the obsequiousness that is shown towards the ultra rich, proceeded to brief me about the bank’s rules, regulations and procedures. My father had already briefed me about all this so I asked Mr Kohl to drop all that and get down straight to business.

I emerged from the room a few minutes later, poorer by some 20,000 dollars with Mr Kohl’s bank richer by the same amount. Later in the evening, I had an envelope waiting for me at the hotel. The receipt for the money I had given Mr Kohl was in the envelope. Intriguingly, included was also a handwritten note from Mr Kohl asking me to meet with him on a different matter.

Normally, all transactions with Swiss Banks are all discussed well in advance only those matters are dealt with which are previously agreed to. This note from Mr Kohl was certainly not something we had discussed and was completely out of place and character. I decided to call up my father and ask him what it could be.

My father was also puzzled like me and did not know what could be done. I suggested that I could meet with Mr Kohl and find out what the matter was and then discuss it with my father the next night.

The next morning I called up Mr Kohl and learnt that the work he had with me was something which had to be done only in his office. This was getting curiouser and curiouser! I agreed to meet with him at 1 in the afternoon.

At the appointed hour, I was waiting in the waiting area outside Mr Kohl’s office, distinctly puzzled about everything. Almost immediately after his secretary had informed him about my arrival, the door opened and Mr Kohl greeted me – rather effusively, I thought at the time.

Inside there was one other man sitting. As I entered, Mr Kohl closed the door and the man turned around. To my shock, I discovered that it was the then topmost hero in the Hindi film industry. I was unaware that he was in Switzerland, least of all that he also dealt with Union Bank.

In his baritone which almost every Indian would have heard, he greeted me, “Hello Mr Baliga”.

“Hello Mr B.” I greeted him in response. “But how do you know my name?” I asked him.

It turned out that Mr B was an old time customer of Union Bank and he had been looking for another Indian account holder. He was in search of an Indian who was married and visiting Switzerland with his wife so that he could carry some of Mrs B’s jewellery back to India for him. Secure in the knowledge that we were both having accounts in Union Bank of Switzerland – presumably and rightly so, without the permission of the Reserve Bank of India – we were both partners in crime.

In a way, I was another Mr B too – although not as well known as the Mr Big B. After discussing the modus operandi of how we were going to accomplish what we wanted to, it was time to exchange other pleasantries. It turned out that he was apprehensive about the future of his ventures in India and being the gentleman that he is, Mr B wanted to pay back all his creditors by selling some of his wife’s emergency jewellery which he had stored in Union Bank for safe keeping.

I told Mr B that since my father advised me in all matters pertaining to our dealings with Union Bank, I could not agree immediately but needed to consult with him before I could concur. He agreed and wanted me to call him up at his hotel which turned out to be just a stone’s throw away from ours.

I talked to my father the same afternoon. My father was as much a fan of Mr B as I was. He was aware about the financial troubles Mr B was finding himself in and was very happy that we were able to help out Mr B. By evening, I had informed Mr B about his work getting done. We were to leave for London the next afternoon so we decided to meet at the bank the next morning. As I changed into my nightie that night, I wondered if I was getting involved in something big.

The next morning as agreed, we met in the bank foyer and walked to Mr Kohl’s office. At precisely 10, we were ushered in.

Mr Kohl was aware about my role in the mission to help out Mr B. Asking me to wait in his office, Mr Kohl, accompanied by Mr B left it for a few minutes.

They returned together with a small attaché which Mr B placed on Mr Kohl’s desk and opened. Inside were some 10 to 15 diamond necklaces, gold chains, bangles, rubies and the like. Assisted by Mr Kohl, Mr B made a list of the items in the brief case with distinguishing marks or number for each item. The list ran into 3 pages. Mr Kohl photocopied the list and handed one copy of the list to me. Whatever the relationship with me, I acknowledged having received the jewellery and left the office with the bag.

When I explained the matter to Vidhya in the hotel, she was worried if we would get into trouble with Customs in Bombay on return. I assured her that all that was being taken care of by my father.

We continued on our honeymoon to Paris, London, New York and Orlando’s Disneyland and returned after three weeks. As expected, Appa had taken care of the Customs through one of his contacts in Bombay. By the time that we were recovering from the Jet Lag and the exhaustion, Vidhya announced that she was pregnant. I was simultaneously ecstatic and a little sad. On the one hand, I was happy that I was going to be a father, while on the other, I realized that for the mental well being of our child, I could not become Radha in the child’s presence.

On the day after our arrival in Mangalore, I told Appa that I needed to go to Bombay to deliver the jewellery which Mr B had handed to us in Zurich. Appa arranged it that I would go to Bombay on “official” work. I was a little wary of carrying all the jewellery with me – in cabin baggage, it could be detected by the X-Ray machines, while in checked in baggage it could be lost in transit. And considering that Mr B’s entire future was tied up in all that jewellery, it was imperative that I carried it very safely to Bombay. At least if I was dressed up as Radha, I could have worn some of the jewellery as my personal property and carried the rest in my bag which could explain everything. Unfortunately, I was too well known in Mangalore to become and fly down to Bombay as Radha.

Vidhya suggested that I traveled by road to Bangalore took a flight from there to Bombay as Radha. That way I could board the flight in Bangalore in relative anonymity and without any fear of recognition. I could wear some of the jewellery and carry some of the jewellery in my cabin baggage and if asked, I could always explain that it was my own jewellery. With Mr B, I could claim I was Radhakrishnan’s sister, she concluded.

I liked the idea. As such I was chafing at the collar about not being able to dress up as Radha at home for very long. This seemed like a God-sent opportunity to dress up and maybe make a few purchases in Bombay also.

It was decided that I would travel to Bangalore on a Friday morning and take the evening flight to Bombay. I would stay for three days in Bombay and fly down as Radhakrishnan directly to Mangalore on Tuesday morning. For the record, I would have a meeting at our Bombay branch office on Monday morning.

On the Sunday preceding the trip, I telephoned Mr B in Bombay. He insisted that I should have lunch on Saturday with his family. I told Mr B that I had a surprise for him and that it was not really me but my sister who would be coming to their home to deliver the jewellery. “Well she can have lunch with us”, responded Mr B.

I explained to Mr B that my sister was a big fan of his and that she was very eager to go and meet him in person.

“Does she know what she is going to give us?” he asked.

"She does and realizes that it is a privilege to be of help to her idol” I replied.


Chapter 11

Table of Contents

Chapter 9 - Blunder!

Chapter 9

Blunder!

I checked my appearance in the mirror before I stepped out of our hotel room.

Vidhya said to me, “You look beautiful!”

“Thank you!” I said.

We had decided to go to an Indian Restaurant called Taj Mahal because it was near the hotel where we stayed. When we stopped to return our room keys, we asked the receptionist for directions to “Taj Mahal”. It turned out that it was just a block away so we decided to walk. Best of all, the receptionist did not recognize me to be a man in a dress and addressed me as “Madam.”

As we walked along the deserted streets of Amsterdam, I longed to have Vidhya hold my hand but that would have made us look like two lesbians – an image we wanted to avoid. Shortly, we reached the restaurant. The valet helped Vidhya out of her sweater. But when he wanted to do the same with me, I told him I need to use the restroom first. I also told him to fix up a table for two in their non-smoking section and escort Vidhya to it while I used the rest room. He agreed and I went in the direction of the restrooms.

The Women’s restroom was first and since I was dressed like one, I stepped into that.

There was no one inside. I need to use the toilet also, so I stepped into one of the cubicles. Taking care to sit down to do what I wanted to do, I emerged out a couple of minutes later.

As I was unpinning my pallu, the toilet door opened and another lady entered. She was not an Indian.

“Hello.” She greeted me.

“Hello” I greeted back.

“Very beautiful outfit. It is a saree isn’t it?” she asked me.

“Yes” I answered.

“Wow! Must be complicated to wear it” She commented.

“Not really. Not if you know how to wear one.” I answered.

“Can you spare a few minutes to show me how you have worn it?” She asked me.

I stole a look at my watch, which she noticed. “Not if you are getting late.” She said.

I decided that I liked her so I said, “I think I can spend a couple of minutes.”

I finished unpinning my pallu from my shoulder and uncovered my chest.

Luckily the breast forms were so natural in their feel that the lady did not suspect that anything was amiss.

“By the way, my name is Inga” she introduced herself. “I am Radha” I replied.

She was fascinated with the tailoring of my blouse. I pointed to her the three tucks in the front and the two at the back which help to make the blouse what it is. I then drew her attention to the pleats in the front and how one gathered them while wearing them. I lifted the bottom hem of the saree a little to show a small part of the saree petticoat on which we mount our saree.

“Can I use an ankle length skirt under a saree? It has an elastic on the waist.” Inga asked me.

“Unfortunately, a saree petticoat must be worn by tying it at the waist with a drawstring. Otherwise it would not be able to support the weight of the saree.” I explained.

“Ok” she said.

“See - you tuck in the non-decorative end of the saree here at the waist. Around yourself once while continuously tucking in the edge into your petticoat. Then once more around you - this time without tucking in your saree into your petticoat and then put the decorative end on your left shoulder. Next you gather the pleats and tuck them in to your saree petticoat in the front. Adjust them such that the print of the saree looks good. Finally the pallu on your left shoulder.”

I am not sure if Inga understood what I had explained but since I was in a bit of a hurry to join Vidhya at our dinner table, I excused myself and left the toilet quickly.

Vidhya had not started ordering our dinner. Both of us were rather hungry but we were also very eager to leave for our hotel. My dressing up had excited me and I knew that Vidhya also liked me dressed up as a woman.

So we decided to have soup in the restaurant but pack our main course. Vidhya ordered Tomato Soup while I ordered Cream of Chicken Soup. For the main course we ordered Butter Chicken, Naan, peas pulao and daal makhani. For the dessert we decided to order Kulfi.

During our idle conversation while waiting for the dinner to arrive, Vidhya suggested we could carry a bottle of wine to our room and have it later. I agreed and beckoned to the waiter.

He suggested a couple of wine selections which he claimed were the specialty of the house. I opted for one of them and asked the waiter to fetch two bottles of the selection.

He went to the manager who handed the waiter the keys to the cellar where they obviously stored the specialty wines. Within a few minutes, our food had arrived. We picked up the food bags and went to the cashier’s counter to pay our bill and collect the wine.

At the cashier’s counter, the manager hesitated before he handed over our wine bottles.

“Is anything the problem?” I asked.

“No.. not really.. you know actually, we are required to check the identity of the persons to whom we sell liquor as per Dutch law. So I was wondering if you had any identification document with you.”

“Oh! Will an Indian Passport do?” I asked.

“Sure. That would be just fine.” Replied the Manager.

I reached in Vidhya’s purse which I was carrying and found my passport. I opened it to confirm it was mine and not Vidhya’s when I froze………..

The photograph inside the passport was mine but it was me in the male mode. There was no way in which the manager would accept this passport as identification for my present en-femme mode!

The Manager noticed my hesitation and suspected that something was wrong. His disinclination to give me our wine bottles increased as a result.

“Madam, is there any problem?” he asked.

Vidhya was getting worried too because she did not know what was happening.

“What’s up?” she whispered urgently in Kannada.

In quick staccato sentences in Kannada, I explained to her what the problem was and asked her if she had her passport with her. It turned out that she did not have it.

“I can accept Madam’s passport,” the Manager explained, thinking perhaps that the passport which I had in my hand was Vidhya’s! Poor thing he was only trying to be helpful!

“No it is not what you think it is.” I told him. “Do you have your own office where I can explain without any interference?” I asked him.

“Sure, this way madam.” So saying, he gestured to a door behind him.

Both Vidhya and I followed him. I made it a point to lock the door behind me.

“Madam what seems to be the problem?” the Manager asked me.

I hesitated again.

“Tell me madam, I will try and help you as much as possible.”

“All right this is what it is” I said.

In my normal male voice, I said, “Actually my name is Radhakrishna – Mr Radhakrishna. Yes I am a man and this here Vidhya is my wife. We are on our honeymoon and this of my being dressed like a woman is our joint idea. Vidhya wanted to come out with me like she was with her sister.”

The Manager was speechless. He did not know what to say.

Swallowing twice, he said, “Madam…. Sir….. Madam – Sir I hope you don’t mind me calling you Madam because you look so much like a lady – can you sign as you have signed in the passport?”

“Yes. Of course. It is after all my passport, my current appearance notwithstanding.” I said.

“Madam that is what matters. I should identify a person as being above 21 and if the person can sign in the same way as a document which proves that your age is more than 21 years. That is all I need as proof.”

So saying he gave me a form on which all other details were filled up except my name. I quickly filled up my name, signed the form and gave it back to the Manager.

He smiled at me and said, “Thank you….er… Madam. I think I feel better to address you as Madam. Hope you don’t mind Sir.”

“Oh I don’t mind. Can I ask you a favour or two?” I said.

“Sure Madam. Any other way I can be of help?” The Manager asked.

“For one, can you have our food packet brought in to us? And for two, let this incident be between us only?” I asked.

“Oh sure Madam. You can trust me.” The Manager reassured us.

“One more thing. Is there a way out directly from this room so that we don’t have to walk through the dining area?” I asked.

“Yes. There is. You can leave from here directly. You will need your sweaters too. I will have our waiter fetch both your sweaters”.

The Manager popped his head out of the room, said something to someone outside and within less than a minute, our food packages and our two sweaters were with us.

The waiter was not even allowed to step into the Manager’s office during this entire episode.

“Just one question Madam” the Manager asked me.

“Yes.”

“I hope you used the Ladies rest room when you came in first earlier.” The Manager said.

“Of course. You would have not known about this thing were it not for the passport! How would you have felt if a lady was found using a Gents’ toilet?” I asked.

The Manager had sufficient sense of humour left to actually laugh at my joke.

We bid him good bye and left the office and walked back to our hotel. Only after we reached our room did I let out a “Phew!”

Chapter 10

Table of Contents