Aparna Das

Chooodamani Samson. That what my parents named me. Ma told me she named me so after my grandmother. What a name to live with, all my life. That too in a city like Bangalore , and in a school like Sacred Heart. Where, girls had hep names. Suzzana, Sophie, Priscilla. They conveniently became Sue, Soph, Silly. What could one do with Choodamani? Choo? Huh.
I had no choice but to live with it. But, shuddered each time my name was called out during roll call in school, or later when I appeared for interviews and introduced myself. 'Hi, I am chooooodamani'. Ugh. Even worse was, when, years later he started called me 'Chooda', affectionately. I hated it even more.
Then our little angel was born. And I gave her a beautiful name. Or so I thought. She hated it as much as I hated mine. But I think, she knew my story.
That's why she insisted I be left nameless. And when she visits every Sunday, she comes with a bunch of roses. That's perhaps her way of telling me that she knew, I named her after the flower, because I so wanted that name for myself.


(Near a grave)