What's in a surname?

I wasn’t born with a name. Though my parents had a tall list of shortlisted names and just few hours of my arrival, they froze one. I didn’t have a say in it but it has stayed with me all my life. And most importantly, I am known by it (though I ain’t a celebrity to command global recognition).
I worked hard and made a name for myself (in my own little, simpler ways). It didn’t come easy. At school I worked hard to get the teacher shout my name. Broke my neighbour’s pencil or make my work speak, whatever it was, it took time and effort. For the professional world, well, I spent many nights working doubly hard, just to make the boss sit back and notice. So next time, in a crowd he doesn’t just pass an ‘I-know-you-but-what’s-the-name’ smile rather shouts my full name. Hard work isn’t it?
Then marriage happened. Life changed for me. And so it did for the person who married me. I took his surname. Got a passport with his surname, the Pan Card took his name too. It was easy. Nobody asked me the reason then. I too happily went with the wave that ran in my family. My mother took my father’s surname just like her mother did and like every woman I can think of who got hitched. All the women follow this tradition of embracing their husband’s surname as the unwritten rule of the matrimony club. Naturally, I did follow the pattern as I believed I were one of them.
But fate proved otherwise. My marriage failed unlike any other women in the family. The surname became a huge burden. Something, I wanted to get rid of. Gosh! It was easier thought than done. Everybody and anybody got the licence to start an investigation probe on my marital failure. The Government officials didn’t spare me and I was judged at every step. My phone bills multiplied answering uncomfortable questions from total strangers. Every Government office did something or the other just to ensure that I stick to the surname, a little longer. Why blame only them, even a private bank, wasn’t any kinder and refused to open an account for me.
I required all my strength and it was more tumultuous than ending the actual relationship. Anybody less stubborn than me would have given up. I kept following up and after months I managed to part with the acquired surname, despite copies of court order.
Marriage is a beautiful institution and I have my faith in it despite my own setbacks. The successful ones will tell you that you should have enough love and be ready to make sacrifices to be happily married. But why make the woman prove her love by sacrificing her surname? Love doesn’t need any proofs, does it?
Though, every woman reading me is at liberty to decide for herself. But think twice before making a choice and most importantly, remember, it is your choice because it’s your name.


Pic Courtesy: Google Images

Is Holi always holy?

A long weekend and a colourful festival. Very few times, life gives such opportunities to breathe easy and celebrate in style. Talking about celebration, I started with embracing every bit of this festival. And graduated to avoiding every bit of it. So much so that I make deliberate plans to go out of town around this time of the year. Unfortunately, I was a wee bit late on deliberations this year and found most destinations pre- booked. The sweet brightness of the mornings and the pleasant chillness of the evenings surrounding this festival are indeed enjoyable.
But, Holi, itself rings alarming bells in the mind. And minds of most women who are forced to move with caution. You can’t blame us for feeling the way we do because nobody enjoys strange hands exploiting your vulnerability. No one can feel wonderful when unwelcomed hands feel you at inappropriate places. Given another day, you would retaliate but Holi is the biggest excuse for molesters who thrive on unsuspecting women. It’s a free-for-all day where even your biggest supporters would make you speechless with “its Holi, you’re overreacting!”
The guy would not only manage to get away but continue his expedition, without fear of being accounted. More cathartic is the fact that most of these men aren't strangers in the first place. They are the uncles, cousins, friend’s friend and close to the circle. Still this is one occasion they manage to get away without being confronted. And all we women are taught is to bear the humiliation. Act as if nothing has happened. It’s an occasion of celebrations, so don’t be a spoilt sport. Don’t create a scene and try keeping a safe distance from the perpetrator. If he still succeeds in coming closer, then let it happen again. Do anything but pretend nothing has happened. Then when Holi arrives in the next season, lock yourself in the indoors, no matter how much you want to get soaked in the vibrancy of surrounding colours. Remind yourself, again and again, that you can’t change the society but you can change yourself. So a festival well-loved gradually turns into something well-dreaded.
Happy Holi, guys! And I wish you all will join to keep it happy for the gals too.

Pic Courtesy: Google Images