Xenophobic

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At the sound of the bell mom ran to the door, excited to receive my friend Kiran. We went to the same college in Bangalore and shared a room in the hostel. My mother was very fond of him and made sure she made his favourite snacks whenever he came home.

But things hadn't been so rosy three years back, when I had just joined college. While waiting for the bus from Palakkad to Bangalore, my mother showered lavish doses of advice that sounded like threats to me.“Befriend people from our own community. Beware of students who drink, smoke and eat meat. Dear Lord, I hope the ‘modern’ kids there don’t spoil my son.” she had said. According to my mother, people of other faiths couldn't be trusted. I had tried to erase the xenophobia that plagued my family but in vain. They were extremely orthodox and their blind faith made them intolerant to people whose lifestyle and faith differed even slightly from ours.

Precisely because of this, my friendship with Kiran hadn't gone down well with them. They pleaded with me to seek better friends who were ‘just like us’. What if he tuned out to be a naxalite? A terrorist? Our friendship received flak till the day I was down with chickenpox with no one to lend a hand but Kiran. While everyone shied away from helping me, fearing for their own safety, he had called the doctor, obtained the medicines and had nurtured me to recovery. My parents were touched beyond measure by this act of compassion and realized the folly of their baseless phobia.





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Suffocated

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Reshma cleared the files and papers from her desk and switched off her computer. The clock on the wall told her that it was time to head home from work. She checked her cell phone. She had missed thirteen calls from Satish who had also left her seven messages. With a sigh she decided to read the messages first.

“Hey babes, hw r u?”
“Busy? I’ll call? Wanna head to the beach today evening?”
“I knw u gotta visit ur mom bt can’t it wait? Reply plzzz.”
“Pick my call. R u tat busy? Dnt u luv me anymore”
“Just wondering if you are with someone else. I DON'T deserve this.”
“I knw by the blue ticks on WhatsApp tat u read my msgs. Why dnt u reply???”
“Where the hell r u? Cm home. Visit mom later.”

She heaved a sigh. What was with Satish? Things had changed so much in three years of marriage. Initially she would blush when she received his texts while she was at work. She shared with him her whereabouts and engagements. Her colleagues too thought it was cute and sweet of her husband. But with time the messages revealed his insecurities and inferiority complex. She had tried to convince him that it did not bother her at all that he was a clerk and she, a reputed doctor.

But Satish was always doubtful. He demanded to be updated with each and every detail of Reshma’s day. The patients she met, the fiends who invited her over and even how she spent each penny of her salary. She was fed up of answering his questions. She had informed him that she had an important surgery scheduled and so would be busy. She felt suffocated, unable to live freely. She glared at the messages; they seemed like a death sentence.

She decided she couldn’t put up with his demands anymore and messaged him back.
“You are right. You don’t deserve this. Good bye.”



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A Name for Keeps

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A name is a word by which things, people, places and animals are known. It helps us to identify them from a group with ease. Well, when it comes to names of people, it is a little more complicated, given the socio-cultural set up we live in. So it is common to find people with two names, a given name and a surname. The surname could be the name of a parent (mostly the father), family or even caste. So a name can reveal quite a lot about a person!

I wouldn't say that one’s identity is tied to a name but I do believe that a name, over the years becomes a part (however small) of one’s identity. We grow up being known by a particular name. Some people choose to keep them; some change them of their own accord or under pressure. Ultimately it is just a matter of choice. However, it is more common among women than men to change their surname after marriage. Some of the reasons given by people who prefer to change their names post marriage are:

1. Everyone in the family will have the same surname, creating a sense of belonging and it is easier to identify members of a family.
2. It avoids hassles especially while travelling abroad, inheriting property etc.
3. It helps the new daughter in law adjust easily and accept the new family as hers.

I’m accepting of the fact that everyone has a right to choose what they want for themselves. But I would definitely want to keep my original name. It is a name I have grown to like over two decades and a half. Everyone knows me by this name. I have been Vidya Subramanian for my friends, teachers, family, employers, colleagues, students and many others. Even my husband and his family got introduced to me and even liked me while I sported this name. My certificates of birth, my achievements in academics, sports and art have been inked with my maiden name. Why would I want to change that? Is there any pressing reason? Not that I know of.

About blending into the new family, I have accepted my husband’s family even without a surname change. I am as much a daughter as I am a daughter-in-law. And a xerox copy of our marriage certificate is enough to convince authorities that we are married (whenever there is a need), so there is nothing to spoil our plans of going abroad. So what if surnames differ within a family? It doesn't make a person a stranger at all. My mom has kept her name since birth, but we still are a loving family. Isn't it strange that the same is not expected of men? Don’t they too have to accept the girl’s parents?

And having said that, why should anyone change a part of themselves for any relationship? Two individuals willingly sharing their lives, love and family without compromising on their identities - that’s marriage for me. It is bad enough that my name is tagged with my father’s, when I would have preferred just “Vidya”. I’m too lazy to take the arduous journey to Indian government offices to add, subtract, replace and modify my name. So I let it be. Vidya Subramanian it is, from birth to death and even after!!

P.S: I understand that people have their own reasons for keeping/changing/modifying their names. To each one his own! I'm thankful that my husband finds the idea of my name change equally absurd.

This post was written for the IndiSpire topic Should a woman change her maiden surname after marriage?
Linking to http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

I am Able

You see me on a chair with wheels,

feeling pity, wonder how it feels

to lead a life of dreary dependence

a life you feel is a forced penance.

You see just my disability

and think I wallow in self pity,

but aren't we all the same-

agile at many, at others lame?

You see me unable to see you,

darkness being my permanent view

and think I’m nothing without my cane

living a life of perpetual bane.

You see just my disability

and think I wallow in self pity,

sadly your eyes can’t see my mind

and its painted canvas one of a kind.

You see me unable to hear or speak;

a world without words you say is bleak,

never to be spoken to, never to be heard

my company you think is just absurd.

You see just my disability

and think I wallow in self pity,

but isn't it sad you need a word

to free thoughts caged like a bird?

You see just my disability

branding me a liability,

since we are all differently abled

can’t you spare me unlabelled?

Image Courtesy: Google

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The Goddess

Image courtesy: Google

Strange are the ways of our society,

stained with sins yet preaches piety.

Women worshiped akin to God

yet for a little space, made to slog.

Daughters educated for a fine match,

confined within the matrimonial patch.

“Be ambitious competent and bold

yet meek and homely” they’re told

Widows burnt alive, paraded

their lives considered faded,

the childless with  a womb cursed

survive a living hell, lips pursed.

Glorified as an incarnation of God,

over her dreams and feelings they trod.

Don’t mistake her silence for weakness,

see the strength behind her meekness.





Participating in the Ultimate Blog Challenge