A very sad story of a shemale

Mehak Malik Shemale

It was raining when we were burying Shabana alone. No thunder, no lightning, just a light breeze. I don't even know when the rain stopped and when the tears came out of my eyes. Consciousness came when my hands caressed the soil of the grave with love and became addicted to mud. Everyone left too late. I was alone in the cemetery. I looked carefully at the mud on my hands. There were cracks in the drying mud, broken, broken, just like the lines on Shabana's fair hands. It was as if the goddess of fortune had died, drawing lines. I myself never believed the stories told by the hand lines but looking at Shabana's life it seemed that maybe there is some truth in the lines of destiny. Suddenly the clouds parted and said goodbye, so I felt as if the night was buried in the dust of the grave and the night was sobbing softly.




Na Shabana, shabash are not afraid. 'I touched the grave with love. ‘Now you are at peace. No teasing, no torment, no burning. Now you are in God's loving, warm embrace. 'As I spoke, my heart sank and I started to hiccup.




Heaven forbid! What is this nonsense? Aren’t you ashamed to cry at the measles grave? ’I looked at the one who was interrupting my loneliness in shock. Probably the gravedigger of the cemetery. A middle-aged man knocks on the threshold of old age, a white torn old shalwar kameez full of gray spots, a dirty four-compartment pink and white handkerchief on his shoulder, a shovel in his hand, and a burning fire of hatred burning in his eyes. My silent observation may not have pleased him, ‘allowed to bury the filthy measles in the graveyard of believers, old lovers came to weep over the grave




My mind suddenly flew away, 'Who can defile the owl's muscle at night?' I got up and grabbed the gravedigger by the collar, 'She was better than you, she was the best of us, good to Allah There was a layout. Heard you, evil man? Shabana was a good servant of Allah




Probably the gravedigger didn't expect me to be so strict. At first, he stood stunned and listened to me, and then he pushed me back and ran over the graves. Anger brought me back to consciousness. I washed my hands with a bucket of water left by the gravedigger near the grave, recited the Fatiha, said goodbye to Shabana with a heavy heart, and walked towards the house.




When you enter the neighborhood, find the memories of Shabana scattered at every step. The broken cement floor of Chaudhry's grocery store, where Shabana used to party with her curious friends. Mian's oven, whose hot terrace served as a nightclub on winter evenings and nights, and in front of my house, the dark, smelly room of Shabana, attached to Baba's vegetable shop.




About thirty-seven years had passed since he regained consciousness and was watching Shabana in the neighborhood. As a child, she was a mysterious character, a solitary porter standing on the border between a man and a woman, a dark purple complexion, a masculine face but deep lipstick on her lips, a red nose ring and thick silver earrings hanging from her ears, long. A silky bird adorned with thick black hair and small silver bells hanging from them, a brightly colored shalwar kameez and black curly hair peeking from the collar of the shirt, ladies high heel sandals on the feet and a permanent smile on the lips that We were a little overwhelmed when we saw the children's amazement and anxiety. This strange gesture and dubious identity were enough to make any child miserable. It was during this time that I first encountered Shabana




I loved cycling. There was a bicycle repair shop in the neighborhood, run by a grim but soft-hearted Indian. Until my parents bought me their own bicycle, the shop and its owner continued to pursue my hobby. During this time, you can rent a bicycle for one hour at eight o'clock. For me, it would pass in an hour and minutes, but as long as the bicycle seat was under my back and the iron handles were pressed into my fists, life would pass me like a racing track from left to right. It would have been an hour of freedom from the captivity of an hour's study, and I would have enjoyed my freedom like a bird. I would not have been conscious of the cars coming on the road, I would have been in the bus, there would have been a rental bicycle and there would have been a strong wind whose slaps would have taken me away from reality.




I still remember it was a hot June afternoon. The blazing fire was raging. I somehow managed to escape from my aunt's house. He rushed to the bicycle shop, took a shiny shovel out of his pocket, handed it to the shop owner and took his special bicycle to the road. As the speed increased and gusts of wind began to fall on the mouth, the usual bicycle became an airplane. Then where was the traffic on the road and where were the horns of cars heard? By the time I heard the car horn coming from behind, it was too late. The front bumper of the car hit the bicycle carrier hard but before I could get under its wheels, two strong hands grabbed me and pulled me to the side. The vehicle sped off for some distance due to high speed and then stopped with the resounding screams of the brakes. But I was not aware of all these things. All I could hear was the sound of 'Oh Bismillah!' And then I lay down on the dirt by the side of the road. Hearing the noise, I regained consciousness and looked left and right




Aren't you ashamed He drives such a big car and that too

How fast? What if something happened to the child now? 'Shabana was holding a respectable-looking man by the collar and shouting. The man was wearing a black waistcoat over a thick fresh and white shalwar kameez and his arrogant face was just angry rather than embarrassed after the accident.




What is my fault The child himself was cycling in front of the car? I sounded the horn. What should I do if he doesn't hear me? 'The fat man almost shouted back,' And how dare you grab me by the collar? ' Received four corn nights. Thankfully, the people of the neighborhood came together and settled the matter. Mote also felt safe in slipping away quietly. When he left, Shabana turned towards me.




Mother charity! Didn’t my baby get hurt more? ’Shabana was more concerned about the scratches on my knees than the blood gushing from her broken nose. Seeing my head shaking in denial, he wiped my face and hands and feet with his handkerchief and stood holding my hand. I looked at her face carefully. Dirt, sweat, and blood combined to create a strange look. The collar was also torn and a dirty corset was peeking through the torn collar. Seeing a man-like woman wearing a camisole and saying 'Mother Charity' and the mixed smell of jasmine perfume and sweat rising from her being, I became disgusted and left the bicycle there and ran home. Later regretted not even thanked. But what could have happened?




But I soon got the chance to say thank you. The children of the neighborhood did not dare to make fun of Shabana in their mouths, but they used to pass by him lightly and a little longer. But Shabana never realized her abuse or at least I thought so because every time she was teased she would just smile and go ahead saying 'Mother Charity'. A few days after the accident, one day I was going to fetch something from the market. Behind him, some of my peers were going to make a fair. Since I was their age, I had a good idea of ​​how cruel the children could be in their innocent ignorance. The devilish smile dancing on their faces from above was giving an indication of their intentions. When the distance between these children and Shabana was reduced to ten or twelve feet, they together whispered loudly from their lips, went. He said, "Oh God!" And put one hand on his heart and turned to his oppressors in his usual manner. Before she could answer, I hurried on




Hey, beware No one will call him Shabana Khusra. 'Where did the power to say in a coward like me come at that time,' His name is only Shabana. Who are you to stop us? ' Go ahead. You don't know that? This is the son of Shabana Khusra. 'Another child tried to provoke me




Then I didn't know that all the children of Hua saw someone behind my back and disappeared pushing each other. When I turned around, I saw Haji Sahib coming from afar, scratching his thick forehead. I looked at Shabana and she was smiling at me




Mother charity! One day he will become a big man. 'Shabana lovingly put her fragrant but masculine hand on my head. Thank you, Shabana for this day. If it weren't for you, I would have gotten under the car. 'I responded to his smile with a smile. Why come under the car? He is not the protector of children but of all of us. 'Shabana raised a finger towards the sky. I started smiling and Shabana stopped me. Listen, son! You are a good child and good children always greet adults. 'He still had a smile on his face.




I also smiled and said, "Peace be upon you, my son!" Be happy! ”Shabana spread her silk scarf over her hands and prayed. Who are you greeting? This measles? 'We were both shocked by this harsh question.




I looked up and saw Haji Sahib staring at us both with bloodshot eyes. Now that Haji Sahib has been mentioned, let me also say that he was my most unpopular figure in the entire neighborhood. Short stature, blond complexion, lumpy head that always glowed with fragrant oil, books Karta, muslin dhoti, a toothbrush in one hand, and a yellow beaded rosary in the other. His favorite pastime was scolding the children of the neighborhood and taking them to the mosque. At first, they were a little better in temperament but then after performing Hajj last summer, they became steam engines. I could see smoke coming out of their nostrils like a wild bull all the time. I heard that at first, he used to run a small motorcycle workshop, but then one day a bond came out, he opened two or three spare parts shops on Montgomery Road and divorced his old wife, and married an eighteen-year-old girl. Immediately after the marriage, they went on Hajj to give thanks for the blessings revealed by Allah. The whole neighborhood was the contractor. Not all the neighbors' virtues, but their sins were closely watched. If he saw a naked girl coming into the neighborhood, he would stop immediately and after starting from top to bottom two or three times, he would say, "Get out of the house with a veil." He hated Shabana very much and according to the people of the neighborhood, if Shabana was not in the neighborhood




And Haji Sahib would not have blood pressure




What am i asking Were you greeting this measles? 'Haji Sahib's hoarse voice broke the chain of my thinking .. Yes he …… ..!' Now I could not say to Haji Sahib that measles with the name of Shabana Don't use the word "what"? There is no place for such people in our religion. It is not permissible to greet them or talk to them. 'Haji Sahib replied, touching his henna-colored beard.




Yes, of course, it is not permissible to greet us or to talk to us. But if necessary, is it permissible to lie down on your bed in the dark of night? 'Shabana clapped her hands and gave the answer to Haji Sahib's face.




You run away from here. 'When Haji Sahib could not get any answer to this, he got angry with me. I did not understand the matter of Shabana's bed and Haji Sahib being a part of it, but I thought it better. Get out of there




The journey from childhood to boyhood and from boyhood to youth was completed in the blink of an eye. During all this time the childish innocence of the mind was lost and the gatherings of friends unveiled many mysterious things. Now I understood very well what Shabana had said to Haji Sahib about the bed, what he really meant.




Haji Sahib was also given a daughter by Allah Almighty but even this did not break his heart and he kept trying to get Shabana out of the neighborhood. But what about some other dignitaries of the neighborhood whose intervention prevented Haji Sahib from succeeding in his pure intentions. Surprisingly, while my hatred of Haji Sahib increased significantly, my relationship with Shabana also improved. When I saw her coming and going from college, I would immediately stop and greet her and she would spread her handkerchief on her hands with love as usual and would offer lots of prayers.




I remember an incident of those days which created respect in my heart for Shabana in a new way. When I came back from college one summer afternoon, I saw that he was surrounded by children. Turning the children from right to left, I reached Shabana and saw her sitting on the ground-hugging an itchy Merrill and a stray dog, crying and shouting, "Mother, charity!" Mother was wiping the blood flowing from her leg with her handkerchief.




What's the matter night Why are you crying? 'I put my hand comfortably on his shoulder.' Look, son, what have these children done to this poor man by throwing stones at him? 'He cried with tears in his eyes. That's right- this is a stray dog. How many such stones do you eat all day? 'I tried to explain. No, son! Allah is pure creation. She asks for love. 'After saying this, his attention turned to the dog




I chased the kids away from there. He got the dog ointment from a nearby vet's clinic and handed it over to Shabana and went home. But I couldn't sleep all night and I kept thinking about the night and the tears that flowed for this stray dog.




As soon as I saw it, my studies ended and my job started. It was Eid day and I came home on holiday. He prayed in the mosque as usual and when he went out after Eid, he found Shabana standing outside the door of the mosque. She was almost on the verge of old age. The face was wrinkled, but the hair was still black and the make-up was still bright




Islam and peace be upon you! Happy Eid, I smiled and said, "Hello, son!" Be happy. Stay tuned. 'As soon as he saw me on his face, a compassionate smile appeared on his face. This is Eid for you from my first salary. 'I took a five hundred note out of my pocket and handed it to him.




Wow! Mother charity! My son became a master. Began to earn. praise the Lord. May Allah protect you from the evil eye. Give me good promotions, give me good money. 'Suddenly tears came in Shabana's eyes and he started praying by turning his hand on my head. As I started to leave, Shabana put her hand on my shoulder and stopped me. I looked at him questioningly.




Son, today is the day of Eid. Which of my children should I celebrate Eid with? 'Her voice was still heavy with tears. ‘Mother Charity! Will you come to my room to celebrate Eid?




I thought for a moment. It is one thing to greet Shabana and quite another to go home. No doubt about Shabana's old age, but it would be a joke in the whole neighborhood. Well, I thought, if I keep the heart of this poor person, what difference will it make? I smiled, nodded, and went home




When it was time for tea in the evening, my intentions began to shake. I thought that before I knocked on the door at night, I would leave the house under the pretext of meeting my friends. Well quietly pulled the bike out of the gate. She was about to start when Shabana came out of her room.




Where are you going, son? Why don't you come to me for a drink? 'There was an echo of depression in his voice. No, no, I'm just coming on a motorbike.' I didn't have the courage to break his heart.




He hurriedly parked the bike in its place and crossed the street and entered Shabana's room. To my surprise, despite being Shabana's neighbor for 25 years, I never once saw her inside. There was a room with a low girder roof about eight by eight feet and a floor without brick plaster. The roof tiles were blackened by smoke and dirt. Lime was falling from place to place on the walls. Moisture and falling lime painted seven continents on each wall




Hoods were kept. On one wall is a calendar with pictures of film actresses, on the other is a dimly framed picture of the Kaaba and the Holy Shrine, on the third wall is a small wooden board wrapped in red velvet, probably a copy of the Koran, and on the fourth wall are three. From the pegs were hanging colorful clothes. In one corner was an old and swinging pedestal fan, and in the other corner was a large yellow radio of the Bawa Adam era. From one of the walls was a cot with a white bed and a pillow wrapped in a light green cover. The fresh cleaning, the sprinkling on the floor bricks, and the scent of jasmine permeated the atmosphere of the room indicated that the host had worked hard to make it suitable for me to sit on. But despite this hard work, there was a strange smell in this room. The smell of failure, the smell of poverty, the smell of uncomfortable desires, and the smell of loneliness. When I looked up, Shabana was looking at me with questioning eyes. What happened, son? Didn't you like my room? 'He looked at me pleadingly




No, no Shabana, how can it be that you have a room and I don't like it? Very good. Just like you. 'I lied to keep her heart, so she was happy. He hurriedly seated me on the bed and poured tea into a mug from a thermos and offered it to me. There were biscuits on one plate and samosas on another. I drank tea and she sat on the ground smiling and looking at me. After drinking tea, I tried to put the cap on the side, but accidentally spilled a few drops and fell on the pillow. The drops had to fall on the pillows, like lightning on the night. ‘Bismillah! Saying Bismillah! ', He got up, took off his pillowcase, and quickly wiped it clean with water. I found his restlessness a bit strange




What happened at night? The pillowcase is the same. I will bring ten more like this. 'I said smiling..no son! It's not a pillow, it's my mother. 'He touched the cover lovingly. For a moment I felt as if Shabana's mental balance was a bit bad. How can a pillow be one's mother? He looked at me and I understood a lot from the suspicion in my eyes




Look, son, this pillow is a sign of my mother. ’She tried to explain to me and then went on to say in my silence:‘ Long before I regained consciousness, my parents had handed me over to eunuchs. When he regained consciousness, he only saw Guru Ji. He tried to give me both parental love and teacher rigor. He became a teacher and taught a lot, but he could not make up for the lack of parents. I don't know why, I miss my unseen mother day and night. When I was afflicted with the disease due to this deficiency, at first Guru Ji explained to me that my mother was no longer my mother because the society could never accept me as her child but then they took pity on me. Has arrived. One day he took me to meet my mother but on this promise I will never miss my mother again. While talking, Shabana's eyes got wet and she kept looking for an invisible face in the cover. What happened then Did you meet your mother? 'I couldn't wait any longer.'




Yes, son. 'With a cool sigh, Shabana resumed her story. "She lived in a big apartment in Gulberg. I don't know how Guru Ji arranged our meeting. As soon as I saw my mother, I hugged her legs. At first she didn't say anything, she didn't love me. But then his heart melted with my tears falling on his feet and he picked me up and hugged me. I don't know how long we hugged and cried. I regained consciousness when someone brutally pulled me by the hair and tried to separate me from my mother. In fact, a maid went and informed my father and brothers. My mother's heart did not beat in their chests that endured my existence. For them, I was just a stigma and a stigma. After much effort, they dragged me away from my crying mother and beat me, and threw me out of the house. At the same time, Guruji threatened that if we went to this house again, we would be handed over to the police. Well, in all this fighting, my mother's green sheet remained in my hands, which I made into a pillowcase. Why? Why the pillowcase? 'I was surprised at the use of the sheet.'




Son, I am alone in this world. No one gives love, no one takes love. But there are many who show heart. ' Shabana looked at me with dark eyes: ‘When someone shows me my heart, I come to my room and put all my complaints on this pillow. Then I put it on my chest and started crying. I don't know how many seas of my tears have been absorbed in this pillow so far. The fragrance of my mother is on the cover of this pillow. That scent soothes my heart and says no matter the night, so don't worry. Everything will be fine ... My own heart is full. His story was something like that. I got up and comforted him. If you look at the Qur'an placed on the niche, you will think of changing the direction of the matter. Do you know how to recite the Qur'an at night? Who did you read it to? 'I asked to get his attention




He got up and stretched out his hand and took the Koran off the niche. Eyes rolled, kissed, and then opened it with great respect. "I don't know how to read, son, but I must open it every day. What is the need to open it when I can't read?" I didn't understand.




This is the book of love, son. When I open it, just look at love

Comes. Just look at this love with love, then all sorrows forget all sins. This is not the Koran, son, this is a door. When I open this door, nothing happens between me and my God. I look at her with love and she looks at me. These are just two things I have to live on. Tell me one thing, Shabana. Why did God create you? Have you ever thought of that? '




Well, what do you need to think about, son? 'Shabana said in surprise,' The purpose behind creating you is to create us. The beautiful Lord has created us all to share the love. There is only love in this whole universe. Take out the love, there is nothing left. After hearing this, it was not stopped by me and there. I went to Shabana's room realizing my kindness. But on my return, I realized that I was not a benefactor, but a benefactor




Ten or twelve years passed. I will get married, but Allah has not blessed me with children. Shabana was old enough, but still, whenever she saw me, she would say, "Mother, charity!" Mother Charity! 'That she used to load with a pile of Kurdish prayers. In those days I heard that Haji Sahib's young and unmarried daughter was somewhat ill. According to whispers in the neighborhood, she was pregnant. Well God knows what was true and what was wrong? When I came home late one night, I saw Haji Sahib saying goodbye to a man standing outside the house. From the stethoscope hanging from the man's neck and the black bag in his hand, I understood that there was a doctor that Haji Sahib had probably called for his daughter. I intended to stop and say goodbye morally, but seeing me stop, Haji Sahib would quickly enter the house and lock it. Well, I didn't take any notice and went home




Wake up the next morning for the usual dawn. While performing ablution, he was shocked by the noise coming from outside. Quickly completed the ablution and went out of the gate praying to Allah for good. People gathered around the four fence walls on the street corner. When I ran, I saw that she was sitting on the ground at night in the middle of a crowd of people and she was shouting 'Mother Charity! Mother is giving charity! 'She is crying with hiccups while holding a bundle to her chest. Make a decision with this. 'Haji Sahib's voice echoes'




What's the matter night Why are you weeping? What is in this bundle? 'I looked at Haji Sahib with an angry look and sat on the ground near Shabana. If I didn't arrive on time, the dogs would scratch it. 'Shabana looked at me and said and removed the cloth from the bundle. My hair stood on end because a newborn baby in a bundle was wrapped in a state of semi-consciousness.




Let's take her to the hospital. 'I took Putli in my arms and grabbed Shabana by the arm and made her stand. There was no use. The baby is dead. Whose fault is it? Call the Edhis and hand them over. 'Haji Sahib tried to stop me




Haji Sahib, I know very well whose sin it is. I have seen someone throw this baby on the rubbish heap and I know this sinner well. Let me be taken to the hospital, otherwise, I will not be late in revealing the identity of the child to everyone. ' She was a newborn baby and Allah had approved of her life. When Shabana and I returned from the hospital, the police were standing outside Shabana's cell.




Is your name Shabana? 'A policeman asked Shabana with great reluctance and proceeded to confirm it and handcuffed him. What's the matter, Inspector? Why have you arrested this poor man? 'I asked in a daze




He has insulted the Qur'an. We found burnt pages of the Qur'an in his room. The inspector held some burnt paper wrapped in a transparent plastic envelope in front of my eyes. Shall I burn the book of love? Will Allah burn in the book of beauty? Shabana cried out restlessly. But the police did not listen to him and took Shabana and Shabana in the car




I knew very well who this mischief was. When I reached Haji Sahib's house in anger, a big lock hanging on the toggle was sticking out of my mouth. Upon asking him, he found out that Haji Sahib and his family had gone somewhere before noon. I did not consider it appropriate to delay any further and went to the lawyer to talk about bail. When I returned, a policeman stood outside my house. I looked at him with questioning eyes. Shabana Khusra has committed suicide in Hawala. The body is sent for autopsy. Take me out of the morgue in the evening. '




By the time I regained consciousness, he was gone. I went in the evening and received Shabana's body, informed some of her companions who lived nearby and buried her at dawn the next day. Needless to say, only I and three of his companions attended his funeral. When I entered the house after burying Shabana, my wife was bottle-feeding the baby. I picked up this poor man in my arms and started looking at his innocent face. What will I do with this poor man? 'My wife asked me. What is to be done? From today, this is our daughter; our night, 'I said looking at my wife. Mother Charity! 'My wife grew up and took the baby in her arms and was helpless.




Written by Shehryar Khawar

shemale,story of shemale,heart touching story of shemale,shemale story,story,short story,story of transgender,transgender short story,pakistani shemale,how shemale is born,shemale prank,shemale molvi,my rape story in train shemale at burhanpur in madhya pradesh,talaash jaan life story,mehak malik story,shemale 22 groups,beautifull shemale,mehak malik shemale,simran verma shemale prank,#shemale . #kashmir. #modi,urdu story,love story,mehak malik history,history,chik chik boom shemale prank