So, inordinately the other name that you get to wear for that summer called a wedded life is pleasing to the new bride. I too, went through that brief pleasure of feeling protected under the wings of a man and his clan. It was as if the new surname was a magical pill and I could flaunt it along-with the gold band like an armor against the society that wanted to know 'why I had not married for so long' or that ' what could have made me in-eligible' or even perhaps 'I was gay'.
All surmises that - vanished like a movie-theater popcorn fast eaten up by the hungry as they watched my film unroll. From the corner of my own booth, it seemed this was indeed worthwhile. The mob could be satisfied with all these superficial family drama laid out with a perfect smile ... honestly in the beginning it was a real smile that reached out from my stomach to the face. I was ga ga and yet all unclear. I was still free, then as I was now.
In the beginning, I would look at the owner of that surname, of whom had passed it on as societal/love gift to me. Days passed and fascinated, I would watch him covertly. Somehow the earlier 'eye to eye' had become just that. He had rubber-eyes, if ever there was a term that could describe the way he could bring his eyeballs to the corner-most part of his socket and watch me watch him. It was enough to know, that he was nervous especially when he saw that I had an ear to ear grin - it frightened him. To think smiles are supposed to evoke ones in return, this was the opposite. Now I know, he was not the only one in knots, I was too. It was not purely gordonian ... it had love, helplessness, friendship, smothered- feelings and responsibility all rolled into one. A to be or knot to be.
That was when I think the knot that bound us was untying really, the ring felt tight and uncomfortable ...sometimes, he removed it saying 'did not fit in the workplace'. I would sit and polish mine ... along-with a dozen others that were in a jewelry box, pining to be out there like the wedding band, almost arguing the fact, it was such a plain gold ring and how did it ever do justice to my pretty hands. There was no explaining the odds of why it was the Kingpin versus the beauty of other intricate carved panels of precious stoned 'other' rings in my collection. I would explain it thus, ' this one has a surname darlings' and a place in the society.
Darn.
Dammit.
Divorced.
Today, as I stand, the ring finger does not even have a tan, stating that I am perhaps single. I still have the surname though, too much of a hassle to remove it from all the important documents that carried the weight of it. But as much as the river has run down the wedded bridge ... its amazing how a now- not- so- familiar irate voice seemingly screeched on a dreary hot Sunday, ' How dare you call yourself Kwan Yu even now?'
How do you answer that? Coldly. Yes.
' As you cannot have known my man. That is the name of the Goddess Kwan Yu, who also is known as Tara and I have had it since a long time, before even you existed.'
Which brings the added marital surname to a ground zero. This name was married to me before all else. Call it fate. All that was required was to have it officially added to my own name.
All surmises that - vanished like a movie-theater popcorn fast eaten up by the hungry as they watched my film unroll. From the corner of my own booth, it seemed this was indeed worthwhile. The mob could be satisfied with all these superficial family drama laid out with a perfect smile ... honestly in the beginning it was a real smile that reached out from my stomach to the face. I was ga ga and yet all unclear. I was still free, then as I was now.
In the beginning, I would look at the owner of that surname, of whom had passed it on as societal/love gift to me. Days passed and fascinated, I would watch him covertly. Somehow the earlier 'eye to eye' had become just that. He had rubber-eyes, if ever there was a term that could describe the way he could bring his eyeballs to the corner-most part of his socket and watch me watch him. It was enough to know, that he was nervous especially when he saw that I had an ear to ear grin - it frightened him. To think smiles are supposed to evoke ones in return, this was the opposite. Now I know, he was not the only one in knots, I was too. It was not purely gordonian ... it had love, helplessness, friendship, smothered- feelings and responsibility all rolled into one. A to be or knot to be.
That was when I think the knot that bound us was untying really, the ring felt tight and uncomfortable ...sometimes, he removed it saying 'did not fit in the workplace'. I would sit and polish mine ... along-with a dozen others that were in a jewelry box, pining to be out there like the wedding band, almost arguing the fact, it was such a plain gold ring and how did it ever do justice to my pretty hands. There was no explaining the odds of why it was the Kingpin versus the beauty of other intricate carved panels of precious stoned 'other' rings in my collection. I would explain it thus, ' this one has a surname darlings' and a place in the society.
Darn.
Dammit.
Divorced.
Today, as I stand, the ring finger does not even have a tan, stating that I am perhaps single. I still have the surname though, too much of a hassle to remove it from all the important documents that carried the weight of it. But as much as the river has run down the wedded bridge ... its amazing how a now- not- so- familiar irate voice seemingly screeched on a dreary hot Sunday, ' How dare you call yourself Kwan Yu even now?'
How do you answer that? Coldly. Yes.
' As you cannot have known my man. That is the name of the Goddess Kwan Yu, who also is known as Tara and I have had it since a long time, before even you existed.'
Which brings the added marital surname to a ground zero. This name was married to me before all else. Call it fate. All that was required was to have it officially added to my own name.
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