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Names intrigue me the most.
Even mine does!
Come to think of it,
I was named even before I knew
About it.
Later, I was cleverly consoled -
What is in a name?

Now I know,
How names manoeuvre life.
I choose not to vouch for others,
But for me my name contradicts:
My belief,
My faith, and most importantly
My face.

Let me explain.

Once upon a time,
In my homeland,
a king changed his name,
With a tutored name, and
With him we lost our names,
Our belief,
Our faith,
Our language, and most devastatingly
Our faces.

Now I don't know,
What my name tells me
About me.
But it has told others
All about me.
It betrays me every time
I say it to someone.
But for my father,
Who gave me the strange name,
I was keeping it.

Father died on a Christmas day.
His head was resting on my chest.
His breathing was slowing down.
His eyes were struggling, infrequently,
To remain open, and
I heard his feathery murmur -
Son, say a prayer!
With my fingers gently pressed
Beneath his jawbone, feeling his pulse,
I bent down to his ear, and
Said the Lord's Prayer, and he closed his eyes.
The neighbourhood Brahmin came along,
And (re) christened father - Bhakti Mohon Das.
My father was never known with that name -
I protested rebelliously.
The revered broker of names grinned and replied -
What is in a name?
And I changed my name.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

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