Teeyan is the Punjabi name of the festival of Teej, which is celebrated in Punjab and Haryana (where it is also called Haryali Teej). In my family, there were three sisters and only me, the boy. My dad had two brothers, and each of them had two daughters. So, it was a totally girls' family, and I was the odd one out. I was often left out during the festivities, especially when Teeyan came around, because it was a festival exclusively for girls and women. They would sing, dance, swing, and wear beautiful clothes, and I would just watch from the sidelines, feeling lonely and ignored.
At that time, I couldn't help but feel a bit resentful. I was the only boy, and I always wanted attention, but my sisters didn’t seem to care about me in those moments. One of my sisters, noticing me sitting off to the side, said to me, “Girls seek attention, so why do you care about it?” I didn’t have an answer. But deep inside, I always felt like I should have been a girl. There had to be something in my dad’s family line that made me feel different—like I was supposed to fit in with the girls. I had smooth skin, silky hair, and a shy, reserved nature, unlike most boys.
I had always been more comfortable around my sisters. While they dressed in their beautiful Punjabi suits, I would watch in awe as they dressed up, danced, and played together. I couldn’t help but imagine myself in their place. My body was slim, my hair was long and silky, and I was very delicate-looking. If I pushed aside my male features, I truly felt like a girl inside.
The festival of Teeyan was special. It was celebrated from the third day of the lunar month of Sawan, continuing until the full moon. Traditionally, married women would go to their maternal homes to celebrate the festival. Whether married or not, the brothers would bring their sisters gifts, called a sandhara. It was a custom for brothers to buy gifts for their sisters, but for me, it was a ritual I had to follow every year. My entire pocket money went into buying their gifts—Punjabi suits, bangles, sweets, and other festive items. But never once did I receive anything in return. Every year, it felt like my feelings were ignored, and it frustrated me. Why was this festival always just for the girls?
I’d watch my sisters dance and celebrate, and I couldn’t help but feel left out. "Why is this festival not for me?" I’d often wonder. I had to follow all the customs, but no one ever thought about how it felt to be a boy among all these girls.
When I was 19 years old, just a week before this year’s festival, something unusual happened. All my sisters came over to our house as they always did, and I was sitting alone on the couch, feeling a little down. One of my older sisters noticed and came over to ask, “What’s the matter, little brother? Why do you look so sad?”
“I feel left out,” I confessed. “You all get gifts, you dance, you dress up, and you enjoy together. But what about me? I’m always just the boy on the sidelines.”
My sister smiled and hugged me. "This time, things will be different," she said softly. “You’ll be a part of it this year.”
I was confused, not knowing what she meant, but she seemed determined.
Two days before the festival, the night before everything changed, my older sister gave me some tablets and said, "Take these, little brother. They will help you relax and let go of those feelings that have been bothering you." I didn’t question her, so I took the tablets, and soon I felt a sense of calm wash over me, leading me to fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.
When I woke up, I felt different. There was a strange, unfamiliar weight on my chest, and I felt... lighter somehow. It took me a few moments to fully process what had happened. I opened my eyes and saw all six of my sisters sitting around the room, watching me closely, with big smiles on their faces. It took me a moment to realize that something was wrong. I swung my feet off the bed, and to my shock, I heard the familiar tinkling sound of payals (anklets) on my feet. I was wearing them. I froze for a moment.
As I tried to get up, I noticed something heavy on my wrists. I looked down and saw that I was wearing bright, colorful bangles. I looked at my hands and saw my nails painted in shades of red and gold. Confused, I rushed to the mirror, and to my horror and amazement, I saw a girl’s face staring back at me.
I turned around, expecting to see someone else in the room, but it was me—I had been transformed into a girl. I was wearing a Patiala suit, with the soft fabric flowing around my body. My chest felt full and strange, and when I looked closer, I realized that the shape was due to water balloons stuffed under my shirt. My hair had been styled in a long braid, decorated with colorful ribbons and fresh jasmine flowers. A bindi was placed on my forehead, and my ears were adorned with long, hanging jhumkis. There was even a soft chunni draped over my shoulder.
I was in shock.
One of my sisters came up to me and said, “Don’t panic, little brother. This is a gift from all of us. You’ve given us so many gifts over the years, and now it’s our turn. You’ve always wanted to be part of our world, and today, we’ve made you one of us. You are a girl now.”
Tears filled my eyes, and I started to cry. My sisters all rushed toward me, and we shared a group hug. My mom entered the room, and my sister explained everything to her. To my surprise, my mom was happy. She smiled and said, “I’m glad you’re finally embracing this side of yourself. You’re beautiful, my daughter.”
The transformation wasn’t just physical. As I sat there, feeling a mix of joy and disbelief, my sister explained, “Now you’ll take part in the festival, just like us. You’re a girl in every way now, and you’ll celebrate Teeyan with us.”
The next day, the full transformation took place. My sister took me to a beauty salon, where they did my makeup. They carefully applied foundation, eyeshadow, and eyeliner. My eyebrows were shaped, and a beautiful red lipstick was painted on my lips. I couldn’t believe how natural I looked in the mirror. My sister dressed me in a beautiful saree for the occasion. It was a golden color, with intricate jari work. The fabric was soft and flowing, and I couldn’t stop staring at myself in the mirror. I had always wished to wear sarees like my sisters, and today, it felt like a dream come true.
As I looked at myself, I realized I was no longer the boy I once was. I was a girl, part of the family, celebrating the festival with my sisters. They helped me put on jewelry, such as earrings, bangles, and a necklace. My hair was styled into a neat bun with a hairpin, and a small decorative flower was placed behind my ear.
When I walked into the living room, my family looked at me with pride. My mother smiled and said, “You look beautiful, my dear. Teeyan is a time for celebrating women, and now you are one of us.”
Wow