Anupama writes a letter to her 18-year old daughter. Read what she has to say.
Society loves calling women by the relationship they have to someone, as many would not have an identity outside home. “But I have a name. Use it.”
My toddler loves walking, dancing and chasing the wind as soon the doors creaks open. Now an evening walk is an obligatory addition into our time-table. How much ever tiring the day is, his one electric smile and we are ready to rock and roll. And strolling with a kid gave me a likelihood to socialize which I missed till the date. I particularly learned to listen to happenings happening around, in straight words, gossip.
This park nearby our house has two permanent visitors. These two ladies always sit side by side on a bench, chatting endlessly or walking synchronously. It is a serendipity to watch their affection and warmth for my child. Slowly I developed an underlying admiration for them. We started exchanging smiles and my son as usual waved them off. We became friends in no time and my kid strengthened the bond with his hurly burlies.
Sun is getting hotter everyday. I avoided talking him out on such days and especially when the sun rays burns like fire. After a couple of days, the heat was serene and that such evening we went to the park late than the usual. After taking a round we settled on a bench. One of the two aunties held out a helping hand to accompany my son for a walk. My kid too went with them with sheer joy and waved me off with a sparkling smile. The entire garden was in unhidden vicinity, so I sat back and enjoyed watching them play round the park. While leaving, I turned back to ask their names. “Call us aunty”. I insisted more.
The hesitant voices exchanged a look and almost mumbled. We all waved bye to each other. I yelled and waved, “Bye Sudha aunty, bye Nina aunty.”
“After a long time someone called us by our name, no Sudha?” They were smiling, generous and content.
We in the society are so used to call women in regard with the relationship that we almost forgot what the individual’s name is. Nishu’s mother, Shyam’s wife, Nitin’s sister, Yash’s granny, Ashu’s sister in law and many others. Our parents named us when we were born, so let us stop objectifying ourselves. And that is why the names are for, to apprehend the individuality.
So next time, please call me by my name.
Published here earlier.
Image source: shutterstock
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A researcher, an advocate of equal rights, homemaker, a mother, blogger and an avid reader.
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