My name is Kiran. It was just me and my mom in the apartment after Dad passed away a few years ago. Mom had always been everything to me—she was my rock, the one who took care of me and worked hard to make sure we had everything we needed. I was studying in my first year of college, working towards my B.Com degree. Life was going smoothly. Mom was managing everything at home, and she even had a small side business. She was really good at stitching clothes, and over time, she became quite famous in our neighborhood. People came to her for all sorts of garments, from daily wear to fancy dresses for special occasions. In addition, every afternoon, she would care for the children of parents who worked long hours. It was a baby-sitting business that kept her very busy, but she was always happy to do it.
Things were going well, and we had just started our summer holidays. It was the first week of vacation, and I was looking forward to relaxing. However, one morning, everything changed. Mom fell ill suddenly, and when I took her to the doctor, he confirmed that it was likely swine flu. He told me to take extra care of her and said she needed complete rest. I felt a wave of worry wash over me. I loved my mom more than anything, and seeing her sick made me anxious. I promised her I would handle everything while she rested.
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll take care of everything,” I said, trying to sound confident even though I was nervous.
For the next two days, I did my best to care for her, but something happened that I hadn’t expected. Some of the parents whose children Mom babysat started asking about her. They wanted to know why she hadn’t been available. Mom had told them she was visiting relatives, but now she was worried. She didn’t want to let them know she was sick, fearing they might stop sending their children to her.
"I can't tell them, Kiran," she said softly, her voice weak. "If I tell them I’m sick, no one will trust me with their kids anymore."
"But Mom, you need to rest. You can’t work when you’re like this," I replied, trying to reason with her.
"I know," she said, sighing. "But the parents expect a woman to take care of their children. They don’t trust men for that job. No one will accept a man as a babysitter."
It was a critical situation. Mom looked exhausted and helpless, and I knew she was worried. Then she said something that caught me completely off guard.
"Kiran, can I ask you a favor?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Of course, Mom. Anything."
"Can you dress as a girl and continue the babysitting for a few days? Once I’m better, you can go back to normal."
I stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what she was asking. "Dress... as a girl?" I repeated.
"Yes," she said, nodding slowly. "The parents expect a woman to look after their children. I know it’s a big ask, but I really need you to help me out. Please, just for a few days."
I looked at my mom, her tired eyes pleading. She was the only family I had, and I couldn’t let her down. After a long pause, I finally agreed.
"Okay, Mom. I’ll do it," I said, a little hesitant but willing to help.
The next morning, before the children arrived, I got up early to begin the transformation. Mom helped me with every step. She gave me a cream to remove the small hairs on my body, and I felt the smoothness as I ran my fingers over my arms and legs. It was strange but oddly comforting.
Mom then led me to her bedroom and began dressing me. "Let’s start with the foundation," she said, as she handed me a soft, padded bra. "I’ll add these water balloons to give you a more feminine shape," she explained. She adjusted the bra carefully, and I could feel the difference in how I looked.
Next, she handed me a pair of soft, delicate panties and a petticoat. I slipped them on, feeling both awkward and curious. Then, she picked out a beautiful, green Mehendi-colored saree. "This will look perfect on you," she said, draping it carefully over my body.
As she worked, she kept talking to me gently. "You look beautiful, Kiran. I know this is different, but it’s just for a little while. You’ll be helping me, and the kids will feel comfortable with you."
She then styled my hair, attaching a long wig that reached all the way down to my hips. I had never seen myself with such long hair before, and it felt surreal. Mom carefully styled the wig into a long braid and added a colorful ribbon at the end. She took a few more minutes to paint my nails with bright pink polish, and then she applied some light makeup—just enough to make me look soft and feminine.
"Now, you’re all set," she said, stepping back to admire her work.
I looked in the mirror and barely recognized the person staring back at me. I looked like a completely different person—a girl, just like Mom had wanted. I touched my long hair, feeling it brush against my back. It was a strange feeling, but also kind of exciting. I walked around the room, practicing how to move in the saree. The payals on my ankles jingled softly with every step, and the bangles on my wrists clinked together. It was all so new and different, but in a way, I was starting to enjoy it.
"I think I’m ready," I said, my voice softer than usual.
Mom smiled. "You look wonderful, Kiran. Now go ahead and greet the children when they arrive."
Just as I was finishing my tea in the kitchen, the doorbell rang. The kids had arrived. I opened the door, and the moment they saw me, they called out excitedly, "Didi! Didi!"
I couldn’t help but smile at their enthusiasm. "Hello, little ones," I said softly, trying to sound as feminine as possible. The kids were thrilled, running into the living room to play. I began to take care of them, just like Mom had shown me, making sure they felt comfortable and safe. I helped them with their toys, fed them their snacks, and kept them entertained.
As I spent the day looking after the children, I realized that the transformation wasn’t just about how I looked—it was about how I felt. I felt more in tune with this new persona, and I enjoyed helping the little ones, even though it was all so unexpected.
Later that evening, after the children had gone home, I sat with my mom. "How do you feel, Kiran?" she asked gently, a proud smile on her face.
"I... I feel okay, Mom. It’s strange, but I think I can do this," I said, still surprised at how comfortable I was in this new role.
"Good," she said, hugging me tightly. "You’ve done a great job, and I’m proud of you."
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