Saagar or Saagarika!

The college function is only two days away, this time it is all about winning the first prize in the dance competition. The last two times Sagar and his group danced very well but could not come first by just a few numbers. Aarav's group has been losing to Suraj for the last two years. But this time Sagar has choreographed many beautiful steps. And Juhi is the lead dancer this time, who is a very talented dancer. Sagar and his team are confident that they will give their best and win the trophy this time. Sagar has chosen many old and popular songs and remixed them in the studio. And Juhi's dance in those songs has also been very amazing. Juhi has praised Sagar for her choreography and said, Aarav, don't be afraid, we will take the trophy this time.
That evening, the final rehearsal was to be held at Rahul's house. A total of five members were formed, including Juhi, Aarav, Rahul, Jayant and Akash. Megha was responsible for the costumes, properties and music. Everyone arrived on time and reached Rahul's house, the rehearsal started in full swing. Juhi was in the lead, Rahul and Akash on both sides of Juhi, Sagar and Jayant behind them, Sagar was in the middle reminding everyone of the steps.
The practice was going on amidst such laughter, but suddenly Juhi's leg twisted and she fell down. Sagar lifted her up and made her sit on a chair. Juhi started crying in pain. Without any further delay, they took Juhi to the nearest medical facility. The doctor asked for an X-ray of Juhi's leg. Everyone got worried, especially Aarav.
Oh my God! Juhi's leg was fractured. But according to the doctor, the fracture was not too serious. The doctor put a plaster on Juhi's leg and asked her to rest for 21 days. Everyone was a little relieved that Juhi was not hurt much. But Sagar thought that how would they perform in the competition if Juhi was not a part of it? That night, Sagar couldn't sleep. The competition was on the horizon, but Sagar was faced with a huge mountain of helplessness. He couldn't think of any other way out.
he next morning everyone gathered at Juhi's house. Everyone was sad. Sagar said: Don't worry, this time we will not take part in the competition.
Juhi: Sorry, all this happened to me, please forgive me. Aarav! I broke your hopes.
Everyone sat in silence.
Suddenly, a ray of hope appeared on Megha's face. Megha said, there is a way, if Sagar and everyone like it, she will tell! Everyone looked at Megha excitedly!
Megha: Look, we all know that if anyone knows this song and dance better, it is Arav. So why doesn’t Sagar dance in Juhi's place?
Aarav: Didn't you get some other time to joke? How can I lead in such a girl's song?
Juhi: (said excitedly) why not? You are the one who says whether it is a girl's dance steps or a boy's dance steps, a dancer should do everything.
Rahul: Yes! That's right. You are the one who choreographed this song.
Aarav: then why don’t you dance as a lead?
Juhi: In my opinion, Sagar dances much better than me in this song. So, you are the only option MR. Aarav.
Everyone also agreed with Juhi's words and convinced Sagar to dance in Juhi's place.
Rahul: Look Aarav! For the last two years we have been losing to that Suraj and group. I don't want to taste that loss this year. You are the only option to get out of this situation.
Aarav: But friends, I will never look like a girl. My arms and legs are full of hair. Look at my face, my beard is growing.
Megha: What's wrong with that? I'll shave them all. I'll shave them all. And make-up is my responsibility, I'll dress you up like this, no one will know
Aarav: How can a costume be made in my size in such a short time?
Juhi: Leave the costume worries to me. I will tell my aunt and have the dress ready by tomorrow morning. You go and get it measured.
Sagar had no choice but to agree because he wanted her team to win the trophy this year. So, he agreed to this proposal. The first thing to do was to go to Juhi's aunt's house and get her measurements taken, and then go to the parlour with Megha to get her body waxed and her eyebrows shaved. And finally, tonight he will practice as a lead dancer wearing Megha's lehenga. So that he won't have much trouble on stage tomorrow.
Sagar reached Juhi’s aunt's house with Megha. Aunty smiled a little and said: What's up beautiful? Who has come to me now? Sagar or Sagarika? Aunty and Megha laughed loudly. Sagar felt ashamed, he lowered his head and said nothing.
I am very happy to see your dedication to the competition. But I will sew the dress on one condition, if you win the trophy, come to me in such a look.
Aunt started measuring, oh you are such a tall girl, how can you find a groom for her! Sagar lowered her face in shame again. Megha said don't worry aunty, I am here. Who else will take care of this tall girl besides me. Then I will sew a suit for you too, after the competition you will go straight to the temple and get married, aunty said and laughed loudly.
Megha said, "Aunty, please measure my wife's top size a little better. Why, I like a little bigger size!" Sagar was overcome with shame after hearing this, but in his heart, he felt very good about all these things. He had worn his mother's saree secretly at home many times, but he never dreamed that he would get this opportunity in front of everyone. How much she imagined herself dressing up like a girl and wearing a saree in front of the world. Now his dream is about to come true. He has no words to express the joy in his heart. Everything is happening like a dream. He is no longer worried about what will happen in the competition tomorrow. Because he is facing the competition within himself now. Which gives him infinite joy.
To be continued…

The morning before the annual function, Sagar sat quietly in Juhi’s room, clutching the shimmering red costume her aunt had stitched overnight. It was real now. No longer just a fantasy tucked away in his imagination. He was going to dance, not as Sagar, the choreographer but as Sagarika, the lead female protagonist.

Next day, The journey began with waxing.

"Bro, are you sure?" Rahul asked, half-laughing, half-wincing as he watched the beautician spread the hot wax on Sagar’s arm.

“I have to,” Sagar muttered, biting his lip.

And then came the first rip.

Sagar screamed.

Not loudly, not dramatically, but the kind of scream that comes from being caught between fear, pain, and determination.

“You’re doing this for the trophy,” he repeated in his head. But it wasn’t just the trophy. It was something deeper. Each strip of wax peeled away more than just hair—it peeled away hesitation, fear, and the image of what he thought he had to be.

Hours passed. His arms, legs, chest—every inch of skin—smoothened. He looked at himself in the mirror. Not Sagar. Not yet Sagarika. But getting closer.

The makeup room was quiet, just the hum of the light bulbs lining the mirror. Outside, the college auditorium buzzed with music, last-minute rehearsals, and excitement. But inside, time seemed to slow.

Sagar stood awkwardly in a loose kurta and track pants, staring at the outfit laid out on the chair—the red and gold lehenga, matching blouse, bangles, the jasmine gajra, and next to them… a soft lace-trimmed padded bra and a folded silky red panty.

He froze.
I never thought I’d wear a bra in my life.

I never thought I’d enjoy it.

But that morning, standing in front of the mirror in Juhi’s room, slipping into a silky red panty and a padded lace bra, I wasn’t just trying on a costume—I was stepping into someone I’d only ever met in daydreams. Someone soft, graceful, fierce. Someone named Sagarika.

Megha was calm, confident—my rock. Her hands were warm as she adjusted the bra straps and hooked the blouse in the back. She cinched my waist tight with a corset until I gasped.

“Beauty hurts,” she teased, tying the final knot on the petticoat.

I was shy. Embarrassed. Every time she looked at me with that cheeky smirk, I wanted to cover myself. But she never made me feel small. She made me feel… seen. Like I wasn’t pretending.

The makeup took almost an hour. My stubble vanished beneath her brushes. My eyes grew wider, lips fuller. The long black wig cascaded over my shoulders, its jasmine scent somehow comforting. When I finally looked at the mirror again, my throat caught.

It wasn’t drag. It wasn’t a joke.

It was me. Sagar, yes—but with the mask peeled off.

I was Sagarika.

People stared. Whispered.

Some laughed nervously. Some looked stunned. One guy from the third-year team actually dropped his phone.

Juhi wheeled over, her eyes gleaming. “You’re a goddess,” she whispered. “Dance like one.”

The lights dimmed.

My heart pounded beneath my padded chest. Anklets tight. Dupatta pinned. Lips dry.

And then—music.

The first beat hit, and muscle memory took over. I stretched my arm in a mudra, turned my face toward the audience, and let her in—Sagarika. She moved through me with grace I didn’t know I had.

Every spin was a whisper. Every glance, a secret. My hips swayed with controlled abandon. My hands told the story—the story of a girl torn between the traditions of her family and her desire to dance.

There was a moment, mid-performance, when I looked into the crowd—and for a second, I forgot I was performing. I wasn’t acting. I wasn’t playing a role. I was living.

When the final pose landed—arms extended, one foot arched behind me, eyes raised—the auditorium erupted. I heard Megha scream my name.

Not Sagar.

“Sagarika!”

When they called our group's name as the winner, I didn’t move.

I stood frozen, lehenga hem brushing the stage, mascara smudging at the corners of my eyes.

We won.

Not in spite of me being Sagarika—but because of it.

The trophy felt heavy in my hands. Heavier still was the acceptance in the applause. For once, I wasn’t hiding behind choreography. I was the reason we won. I was the center.

Juhi’s living room had never looked this festive.

Paper lanterns hung from the ceiling, fairy lights twinkled around window grills, and her mom had cooked enough snacks to feed a cricket team. The moment we walked in, the whole gang cheered.

“Sagarikaaaa!” Pratyush called out in a dramatic falsetto.

I rolled my eyes, clutching the folds of my lehenga. “Very original.”

But he looked at me differently. Not mocking. Kind of… proud?

“You killed it, bro,” he said, then caught himself. “I mean, sis? Dude? Honestly, I don’t know what to call you right now.”

I laughed. “Neither do I.”

Megha held my hand tightly as we walked in. She was still glowing, eyeliner slightly smudged from earlier tears. She didn’t stop smiling the entire night.

Juhi sat cross-legged on the floor, a cushion under her cast. Her eyes followed me all evening, shining with admiration.

“You looked like me out there,” she said, handing me a glass of cold Rooh Afza. “Better than me, actually.”

“No way,” I laughed. “You’re the original.”

“But you… felt it,” she said. “That wasn’t just dancing. That was living.”

The Reactions

Ankit couldn’t stop staring.

“I’m not even gonna lie,” he said, halfway through a samosa. “I didn’t know it was you until the third minute of the performance. And even then, I thought... damn, why am I crushing on this girl?!”

The room burst into laughter. I blushed, trying to hide behind my dupatta.

Pihu made me stand in the center and do a twirl—literally clapping her hands like a fashion show judge.

“I’m still not over how natural your walk is,” she said. “Your waist was snatched. And those expressions? Girl, you need to teach us!”

I chuckled, my cheeks hurting from smiling so much.

“Honestly,” I said, sitting down finally, “I thought everyone would make fun of me.”

They all fell quiet for a moment.

“Why would we?” Juhi asked.

“Because… I don’t know. A guy in a bra, lehenga, makeup? Dancing like that on stage?”

Megha squeezed my knee. “Sagar, you didn’t cross a line. You erased one.”

Later that night, we sat on the terrace.

The lights of the city blinked in the distance. My braid had loosened, my lipstick was faded, and my feet were sore from dancing. But I didn’t want to change out of the lehenga. Not yet.

“Do you feel weird?” Megha asked, lying beside me.

“No,” I said. “I feel… whole.”

“I loved watching you,” she whispered. “And I love both of you. Sagar and Sagarika.”

I turned to her, letting my head rest on her shoulder.

“Do you think people will always accept it?” I asked.

“Maybe not everyone,” she said honestly. “But tonight, the people who matter did. And that’s enough to start.”

I smiled.

I was still Sagar.

But I was no longer afraid of Sagarika.