Much like Trishanku

Trishanku. I see the word emblazoned on several pages in a diary where I took down notes during a lecture, drew doodles and wrote my name in different languages, a habit which is an unmistakable characterstic of self obsessed people, I hear. Well. Why does this word chug at my heart’s strings today? I bore down into the English and Hindi calligraphy shouting out the word aloud. I am Trishanku, I finally decide.

I am in a weird phase of my life when marriage proposals scare me. So does getting rishta-ed at social gatherings. And eventually, an irritation creeps up at times, when I’m not ready to accept the reality that the time has come, when the event you talked about as if it was too futuristic, is round the corner, peek a booing at you. And at times, I feel I am at that juncture, wherein I would love to share my life happily with a man I see capable of being my soulmate. But the very thought of leaving my parents, and settling in another house freaks me out too. For it’ll be a major change for a pampered only child like me. It is, for every woman, to be frank.

My Nani once talked of how, she was a rocking bride as she didn’t cry at all. But after what they call the ‘Pag Phera Rasam’, when the time to go to the “new nest” arrived, did the feeling sink in and needless to say, she was inconsolable. She still makes up for her not bauling like a baby at her wedding by doing so at family weddings or a movie scene, even the overtly dramatic ones, I tell you. She even cried at her son’s wedding, the daughter in law sobbing being the trigger. My mother and aunt had to pat her, consoling her with a lame “she’s coming to your place only, don’t you worry.” dialogue. Hilarious, right?

I guess that’ll be me. Totally mawkish at my wedding. But for now, It’s like I’m hanging nowhere, feeling incomprehensible and foolish. Why doesn’t any man fit into my list of an ideal mate, I ponder. Does that mean I have a list? Well, only in my mind; the contents of which I myself am a stranger to. For it seems hazy and so like a hideous elf straight from the stories of Enid Blyton, who pitter patters around. You can’t see it, but only hear it and feel it, looking at you being perplexed with a sly smile adorning the face, for everyone loves entertainment. Even if it’s your own mind and soul, which have been made to confuse you. Forever.

And on top of that, my Ipod playlist is mocking me too. I am listening to ‘Unse Mili Nazar’, the classic from the flick Jhuk Gaya Aasmaan. I love how the lyrics describe the myriad reactions and feelings of a woman when she stands mesmerized by a man whom she’s encountered briefly. It brings me into an “OMG I would love it if it happens to me soon” mode.

And then comes in Sona Mohapatra’s ‘Abhi Nahi Aana’. I must share some lines from the song that nail my mood-

“Mohe Thoda Marne De, Intezaar Karne De.”

“Thodi Door Rehke, Mohe Tarsaana,

Abhi Toh Main Chaahoon, Sari Sari Raat Jagna”

“Abhi Naa Jagao, Bane Raho Sapna,

Abhi Toh Main Chahoon, Aas Lagaye Rakhna…”

Another favourite for days when I feel I need more time for myself as a single woman. The song speaks of the joy of waiting for one’s beloved. Yes, I totally feel like that woman sitting at the jharoka of a splendid palace, sipping tea and reading a book, occasionally peeping out, smiling to myself and at my enigma. Haha! Also at the good luck of the man who’ll be mine. For he gets me, after all. 😉

Perhaps, In a few years, I’ll just laugh reading my own post, contemplating if or not, my husband deserves to be enlightened about the flimsy blogger that his wife was (and would still be at that point, rather.) Whatsay, folks?

The Game Of Last Names. Anyone?

This is a major vent out post. And on an issue which turns out to be, in several cases, a question on a woman’s rights, or let me term it as choice. It was yesterday during our evening walks that my mother was telling me the workplace gossip. One of her colleague’s daughter has got hitched recently. Now, the boy’s family was “encouraging” her to change her last name to that of her husband’s. I was dismayed. And I let out a loud and long “Whyyyyyyy on earth are they doing so?” immediately. My mother eye rolled and gave me a “Isn’t this obvious” look. And, I asked her, why did you change your surname, Maa? The answer to which was that “It was expected of me.” Being a teacher, she had an interesting tale to share.
She got married in February and right in March, joined back. March being the examination season in our country, she got busy in a round of examination duties. Now, as we all know, every teacher has to mark her presence in the attendance sheet. I’m talking about 1992, when they didn’t have the fancy electronic devices to do that by marking the finger impression. So, the peon arrived with the list and she got busy looking for her name. Since she has a fancy, though a ‘commonly popular’ name (that’s how I put it, Hah!), she had to search for her’s through the surname. Failing to do so, she sent the peon back to the incharge to edit the list. The peon, dillydallying, came back, announcing in a monotone that her name was there. She got irritated on checking it twice, and failing to locate it, was about to march to the incharge’s den, when the man in question appeared himself, and pointed out to her the name, which to her surprise had been changed. As in, they had already changed the last name. She had no say, and embarrassed (I didn’t understand why, though), she complied, for it had to happen anyway. Now, this was a classic example of the society forcibly putting into effect, it’s own rules down the woman’s throat. But my bone of contention was that why, in 2016, were we still in a dilemma when it came to the last name of a married woman? Why, oh why?
Isn’t it a woman’s choice entirely? If she wishes to keep her maiden name, good. If she wishes to keep the maiden name as the middle name or edit it out completely, that’s okay too (though, the latter decision could also be a desperate attempt just in case you have a hideous surname, man! Yeah? Heh). Some people choose not to have a surname at all, but that’s another debate altogether. My question is, does a mere changing of your last name indicate your love, happiness and feeling of togetherness to the new family you step into? Is that a marker of sorts? I am of the view that changing the surname is baseless. My mother considers it to be a hint of my adamancy and arrogance. Is it so? No! I have a sexy surname, and I have every right to keep it. Hehehe pardon my naive remark. Though I do have something against women who completely change their identity and merge it with that of their better halves, that is, adding their husband’s full name (name and last name) to their first name. How utterly claustrophobic does it look. And according to me it is a marker of dependency. For to me, it only sets out to cement your status as a commodity, which was transferred from one male to another. And to add to that, if a woman herself does that, joyfully, then, needless to say, patriarchy will have the last laugh.

So, ladies, take the reins of your life and identity in your hands. And do have a choice. And strength enough to voice it. And stand by it.