For The Want Of A Name

FOR THE WANT OF A NAME




The woman woke up with a vague feeling of unease. Something was amiss. Her three children slept beside her with the total abandon that only children possessed, while her husbands soft rhythmic snoring assured her that all was well with him. Yet she felt uneasy .A presumption of impending doom pervaded her senses and a chilling sense of fear uncoiled its treacherous body in the pit of her stomach .Then with a start she recalled that the election babu would be visiting and she still did not have a name!
It had all begun two weeks ago. Elections had been declared and the festivities had begun. This time the election festival had come early, only six months after the last festival .The elders in her village said that in the good old days, the festival used to come only once in every five years.
Elections were great fun, a time for celebrations and gaity .Hordes of city-folks, sahibs ands memsahibs descended and her otherwise slumberous village woke up to the honking of motorcars and the blaring of loudspeakers. Daily chores could be forgotten and household duties neglected as men and women dressed in all their fineries attended meetings and rallies .Buses and trucks came to fetch them to these meetings and the joyrides were an election bonus .At the meetings sahibs dressed in white with garlands around their necks spoke at length gesticulating and waving at the crowds. The woman clapped and cheered when the others did but she did not really listen. She spent her time catching up on the local gossip.
Election was also promise time. Groups of sahibs and memsahibs came to the house on foot. They would embrace the old folks, pinch the cheeks of the children and promise everyone jobs and homes and other wonderful things. The sahibs and memsahibs were so beautiful, just like the hero and heroins the woman saw in the movies her husband took her to during Dusshera. Sometimes the movie-makers also came down with strange equipment on their shoulders. Her husband said that they made movies on the Elections which people would see all over the country in machines called the Television. Ever since the woman had always decked herself up during election time.
This time the elections were proving to be a novelty until two weeks ago, when the Election Babu came calling .He was a dour faced, bespectacled man who went from house to house noting down everyone’s name in a thick black book. It was rumoured that anyone whose name was not in that book would not be allowed to vote. And the woman so very much wanted to vote. Voting day was the grand finale to the election carnival. On that day she would don her red sequined saree, put flowers in her oiled hair and accompany her friends to the village school house. There they stood for hours till the government babu put paint on her thumb and she would retreat behind the curtain to put the seal on the ballot paper. She usually chose the symbol that the village headman had selected for them, but sometimes there were so many symbols that she got confused .In that case she put her seal on two or more symbols just to be sure.
So it was with much eagerness that she had ventured out to meet the Election Babu. when he asked her name, she promptly replied, Sambhus Mai’ and that’s when the trouble began. The babu had refused to enter her name in his book and had painstakingly explained to her that he wanted her name and not her sons. For a moment the woman had been baffled but had quickly bounced back with an alternative name – Narayan’s Aurat”. At that the babu had lost his patience. I don’t want to know whose mother or wife you are. I want your name, your very own name.”- he had grated out. Then seeing her crestfallen face , he had taken pity on her and given her an extension of two weeks in which to remember to name.
Over the past two weeks the woman had taxed her memory for all she was worth but still could not recall a name that was her very own. As a child she had been called Dhanirams beti. Dhaniram was her father, a huge bear of a man who drank like a sponge and religiously beat his wife. Dhanirams beti had been married at age of fourteen to Narayan and since then been renamed Narayan’s Aurat”! In the initial years of marital bliss while in the throes of passion, Narayan would call her his Rani. But as he became more familiar with his nuptial rights, all endearments vanished from his speech. Four years ago he had bought a cow which he christened Rani.
Then her son Sambhu was born and again the woman had a new name – Sambhu’s Mai. No she did not lack a name. The woman had many names, yet not one of them were her very own. Of all the names not one would ensure her rightful place in the Election Babus book. Not one of them would ensure her democratic rights.
Why, oh why, thought the woman in frustration, do I not have a name, a name that is my very own ?!