What's In A Name?

“Hey Marl, do you want to wear the pink dress for Leanne’s birthday party?”

It was a simple enough request for my four-year old daughter. Unlike my parents, I had to negotiate with her. There was no I-told-you-so-do-it.

Marlene fiddled with her skirt and scratched her head. “I wanna ask nanna…”

I sighed. “Okay, but make it quick or we’ll be late to the party. You don’t want to miss the fun, now do you?”

As Marlene vanished into her room, dragging her plush dinosaur along, I couldn’t help but stare at my mother’s portrait on the wall and sighed.

I could really use your advice right now, mum.

***

Falling in love with Terry was easy, and wonderful, but the aftermath was staggering although not unexpected. My conservative upbringing in Kolkata could not be washed over merely by migrating to Australia. So, it wasn’t a surprise that my parents were distraught.

“A Gora?” My dad scoffed. “You know their ways are totally incongruous with ours. They eat beef for breakfast!”

I wanted to say bacon wasn’t beef but it would only make matters worse.

“He’s not technically white,” I tried. “He’s half Chinese.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

Mum refused to speak to me for months. When things mellowed over, and Terry did his best to acculturate, it seemed like life was beginning to cruise along. Until the baby came along, that is.

***

Marlene reemerged with a pout.

“Mamma, can I wear the dress Nanna bought for me?”

“What? Again? Don’t you like anything else?” I knew I was trying to reason with a toddler but she was obsessed with the dress, a traditional lehenga. Two sizes too big for Marlene, it would drag stuff from the floor around.

“If you wear the pink one… just for today, we can look for a new Barbie.”

“No!”

A flashback to my childhood and a whack across the face, or back, would end the negotiations. Almost always in the parent’s favour.

“Look sweetheart,” I squatted and held her gently. “How about you wear the pink one and we take the lehenga along? If you want, we can change at Leanne’s. Okay?”

Marlene peered at her room for a few moments as if my mum would appear to help her argue. Then, she turned to me cheerfully and exclaimed. “Okay!”

Sigh. Kids and their imaginary friends!

***

Terry crossed his arms almost in a stranglehold. “Priti, let’s not do this again. Please!”

“It’s a simple request, Terry–”

“You know how ridiculous the name will sound here in Australia? She’ll be the butt of all jokes at school.”

We had determined the sex of the baby who was barely a couple of months away.

“What about my name, huh?” I challenged him. “Is that ridiculous too?”

“It’s not the same thing,” He blurted. “Besides, your name sounds like ‘pretty’ which is a good thing.”

If that was his attempt at lightening the mood, it did not work. I did soften a bit though.

“Look, darling, it’s my mother’s name and she would be thrilled if,” I patted my belly. “She was named after her.”

Terry paused long enough to make up his mind and then turned to me, his hands folded in a namaste gesture. “Priti, I just want to pick a–for want of a better word–neutral sounding name. Had I been named after my Chinese grandfather, it would be the same. Trust me!”

And so we settled for Marlene. My mum was unhappy. She refused to visit us at the hospital. Dad tried his best but she shrunk into a sulk-cave, deep and dark.

The day she died, her last words were: If only I could’ve lived on in your home.

***

Dressed in pink, Marlene settled in her child seat as we drove to Leanne’s, without a tantrum. However, she refused to leave the car without the lehenga. After several minutes of pleading and negotiating, I succumbed.

On the way back, she surprised me with a kiss. “Mumma, I can wear the pink dress now.”

As we entered the home, she ran to her room, a bit too quick. Intrigued, I followed her and peeped from the door, staying out of sight.

Marlene ran to the far corner, leaned closer to the wall, and whispered. “Nanna, I wore the lehenga for Leanne’s party, not the pink dress.”

Then, to my horror, she was airborne, as if lifted by unseen hands, and was laid gently on the bed where she grabbed her dinosaur and shut her eyes.