Frowning, I reached out and opened it. On the first page, in letters that seemed to glow under my wary eye, was a sentence written in elegant, faded handwriting:
"Think about what you want to know and then turn the page"
"Strange," I muttered, flipping through the rest of the book.
Shrugging, I went back to the first page and closed my eyes. You can also give it a try. What's the worst that could happen?
(Should've known I shouldn't have raised that flag)
I took a deep breath and decided on something pragmatic, I was always good with biological subjects and I didn't know if that book was really everything it indicated if it was really something magical or a prank.
If it was then I should be very careful, I remember several stories that Jamil told me about magical objects, genies (Djins as he called them), minor gods whose lives were ravaged by those who caught their attention, as well as ancient sorcerers who promised power for an absurd price, deceiving those they worked for.
"... absolute power, absolute price, nothing is given मेरा दिल (mere dil/my heart), everything has its price..." my boyfriend once said.
Jamil was a young man of medium height, with his woody skin and brown hair that he usually braided in various shapes and styles, he was a very intelligent person, pragmatic, insightful, and thorough, he was not one for words more than action, always wanting my well being even in bed.
With that knowledge in mind, I continued with my plan, held it and thought and shrunk "human biology" and turned the page. Opening my eyes, I froze.
Below me, words scrawled across the second page of the book, written in gold ink that quickly faded to black. with flushed cheeks I read:
"Sexuality, or sexual orientation, is a label used in many modern Western cultures to distinguish those who are attracted to the opposite sex, the same sex, or both. The original..."
And the text continued, the beautifully crafted cursive letters slowly filling the once white pages in ink as if written by an invisible hand. and I stared at the whole process in bewildered shock, my mind just stopped processing the words. Holy crap. I mean. Sacred. Shit. Was the book really magical?! I looked back at the page, where whatever spirit (Djin? demon? Jash-Kami fuck magic was real?!!!) that controlled the book kept writing at a gradually accelerating pace, delving further into the subject and even describing the issues. historical/cultural studies focused on sexuality, filling pages and pages on the subject!
I flipped through the book quickly running my eyes over the pages before stopping at a specific chapter, I noticed that the lines marked on the page stopped at a small text that was talking about discrimination:
"....In many cultures in the contemporary era, the relationship is stipulated and predetermined in cultural partner stigmas of the citizens who inhabit it,......''
the words described in that paragraph held my attention.
''...Interracial or intercultural relationships are discriminated against by society, whether legally, socially, or inter-personally , due to aversion or deep antipathy towards foreigners, distrust towards people who come from outside their country with a different culture, habit, ethnicity, or religion."
I grimaced. Remembering the difficulties I faced because of it. the bad jokes among my colleagues about my relationship with an Indian. as well as the slight disdain I saw in the eyes of their countrymen when they saw us at their place of work.
So what if I was white? So what if you were dating an Indian? It's not just because I didn't grow up among your people that I would disrespect your culture or disdain it.
people shouldn't judge our choice of partners, not even if they are "good" or not.
Furthermore...
What does your physiology or autonomy have to do with my satisfaction in bed? don't they realize that there's much more than carnal desire in it?
I wish there was a way to change that...
Below me, the text stopped scribbling on the page. Without noticing, a t̵̩̊iny̸̛̱͊̇͋, th̴̨ỉ̷̧̢̘̟͚̝n̶̬͈̥̞̿́̓̕, t̸r̸̻͝a̴̛̦̺̙͑͛nsl̶̼̭̮͋͐̃ư̵̢̩̠̍ceṇ̷͐t, and s̵̖̾u̵̢̺͔͂b̸̛̮̥̰̯̹̤̭͍͔̺̑̅̄̓ ̶̡̩̟̳̩͋̄̆̇͒tle̴̯͠ p̴̧̉i̷͔̔n̴̤̈̌͑Ḵ̴̛̦͖̔̆̿̀̀̀̆̐͒̽̈ mist slithered along the edge of the book. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, in a smaller font, in bold and with a different color than the black ink I used to write, a message appeared:
"Get a pen".
I bit my lip. Carefully, I reached across the table and picked up a pencil I'd left lying around. As if sensing what I had done, the page went blank again.
"I-…uh, what do I do now?" I said.
The book replied:
"What would you like to change?"
I licked my suddenly dry lips. My eyes glazed over and I soon found myself remembering the times when my colleagues would comment on our relationship, the jokes, and the look in my lover's eyes of the things that were hinted at and talked about our relationship.
Jamil always had an excellent poke face and was extremely good at controlling his emotions, never letting anything get out of his control, during the years he lived in Karnataka when his family was subjugated by his Shudra position over the direct control of the Vaishya members in the Varna rankings where the slightest mistake could lead to punishment.
But I knew him and I knew how he behaved and that day I saw in his eyes the frustration, anger, and even disgust.
At that moment I decided, with that resolution whispered to the book.
"Show me Jamil Asha's physical stats" and opened it.
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