The Story of NoMore Shringare

Well, you know like every other girl, I looked forward to my wedding day. I planned it for years and months working like a crazy scientist over every detail. Right from raiding the markets for just the right decor crafts to practising sitting cross-legged on the floor for a whole hour or two, I did it all. I picked the venues to the food menu and even the sangeet songs to the choreography. I smiled the brightest at the break of dawn on the destined day and cried the hardest after the heart-wrenching farewell to my kin.

The new life soon consumed me, everything remaining the same, my habits, my love for miniature toys, my world of loud music, writing, gaming, eating out, occasional partying, love for Charlie Sheen and so on. I was glad that most of my inhibitions had met a dead end and that no, marriage didn’t change everything like they say! Whoever is ‘they’, is very very wrong.

Not until recently I had a happy realisation moment vocalised by an uh-ohh. There is this one thing that had totally slipped my mind. I am okay with changes you see, I prefer being flexible. And yes, we then had the talk and I pronounced it for the first time. My name teamed up with my significant other’s surname. Whaaaaat?

Many would say, yes so, didn’t you know? The fact is, yes I did. I did know the day I met him that he was the one. Honestly, I had even pronounced the ‘new’ future name many many times. But it was only recently when my heart skipped a beat with the thought of letting something of me go. It felt like being in space, floating away from the optional in zero gravity. It is after all not a big deal, then why did it pierce my entire being so bad?

Although retaining my parent’s surname is a choice granted to me, I thought deep for days till I was ready. Picked up the latter one, chose to accept the new identity and even initiated the legal process with a confident mind.

I guess it is a moment of realisation for which some are always ready, some take time to digest while others stay determined to hold onto. For the time- takers like me, some warm hugs and coffee conversations are enough to feel attached and bonded.

So anyway practicality demands same surnames, because I want to be the last person deported in a foreign land for claiming to be married without any sign of legality to it. Of course, there is the marriage certificate, but not much can be expected out of a girl who forgets to eat lunch when buried beneath a novel. The god forbid airport scenario is just one of the hassles I hear.

All in all, I am getting used to the new name and now I don’t forget to hoist myself at the dentist’s or bank when called. It feels natural to be Mrs plus the surname but I am still on a look out for the bloke who made girls change names. You are getting so bashed up the day you meet me.