Social Security Number

 Social  Security Number

    Social Security Act.  229-23 -9830. That’s a Social Security No. Issued to American Citizens.  It has since come to be used as an identifier for individuals within the United States, although rare errors occur where duplicates do exist. This is strictly assigned to U.S permanent citizens.

  Apart from the digits I scored in my mathematics exam, these were the ones that made my Mom crazy. Rather they make mostly  every “My-Daughter – should –Get Married by now” mothers  get sleepless nights. An  American Guy oF Indian Origin who’s definition and description confined within the limitations of the incomprehensible numbers.

 I barely passed in Maths.  Managed  with much efforts in the most difficult school leaving exam. After that never dealt with figures suddenly after so many years these nine digits seem so befuddling and incoherent.

What am I suppose too do Ma, memorise them well  so I don’t forget the formula or just add them up to an equation difficult for you and me both to understand. Id  rather avoid these foreign numbers to turn on my favourite show and voluntarily choose to fail.

 He is the Guy.  An American Bengali.  He speaks English most of the times with an American Accent. His Language and his proximity to it just like the receding hairline that framed his squared face. I ‘d agree I did go to meet him, the colonial Hangover just doesn’t leave, Everything that travels from the west has to be exceedingly fanstastic.

 At times I feel I wished I had those subtitles running across the screen. His accent  too twisted to understand what he means. And  me too shy to ask him to repeat what he meant.

 I cant act stupid.  Im an educated english speaking woman. . My composure, dignity , intellectualism which I am supposed to exhibit ( Fake it ) should appear effortless, as smooth as butter which slowly irons  and hides the darkened creases of a flattened and darkened toast.

 I speak Bengali. My language is unnatural to  him , a habit that has been abandoned over the years, letters and words precariously entwined with his being , at times fluttering and flapping to snap at the slightest move.   

Though he calls Calcutta , his home he says Bengali is the language which  he often heard his parents fighting in fumbled voices, lest he hears it.  I guess ive touched a personal grief. He couldn’t decode what they fought about then and he cant rephrase it now.  So the language that I had Known , I know and will be a part of me for ever more reminds him of fights that he cant forget.

His Bengali is slipping away like the passing years. Bengali is not the language in which he was encouraged to think feel or love. I realize.   Such a major difference between two people who have the same origin, taught the same language and both spoke English.

A major difference. Mom, may be we are Bengalis. But it  is not enough , we both are diametrically opposed is more than enough for you to understand that Yes I am not having golden dreams for clicking photos on the Golden Gate. I’d rather read Noam Chomsky.

 My cousin shrieked out “You idiot, my marriage is round the corner, Im tying the knot after 6 years of relationship and all I understand of that man is nothing”.

This was when I  tried to say that I kind of like someone who is not of my religion. 

She further reteirates,”Treat husband, as the number. As a figure.

 Before I could understand anything, you again  threw numbers on me.

Just as I pulled the curtains to keep the invading rays of a tired afternoon out, her voice over the phone  softened “ Every man changes, every relationship changes colour, every night is not like the first night, and every moment is often like a repeat telecast of your favourite daily soap”.

“ Don’t believe Marriages are made in Heaven, love is a pretext ,manipulative marriages work better”.

 She pauses, and adds “ We always told you to understand and study Economics, Economics with an American  Guy is much stronger,”

 Dude all I know and want to understand right now  is Psychology and Chemistry. Biology and Physics can wait while Economics can be discussed later. But all that is bubbling  so much with a catalytic effect now is   so what I call  Chemistry with a Man I met on the Internet.  

 I return to my thoughts. For a moment it can be fun. But some evening eventually I”ll finish exploring New York. Il be tired  of carrying shopping bags and  would want to return to soltitude.

A soltitude that’s not regal and rare. But a soltitude that different and mine. How long can I stand beneath times square clicking pictures to be uploaded on FB. I would have and love to return home. Home wouldn’t be Calcutta or Delhi. It would be a distant faraway land New York.

 I switched off the fan. Winter is coming. Its  would be colder in New York.

My cousin pointed out “You are imbalanced, you are not composed , you are not and cannot be controlled”.

How does it matter you are so composed and balanced yet you say you don’t understand anything of the nothing in the Guy whom you want to marry after a relationship of six years.

 Are you seriously getting married?

 But Im not. And I know marrying a Guy  in a different religion. That’s difficult for my parents but for me , no, I am irreligious.  I’m sure  my parents won’t wake up with the man I would marry. Nor would they had to bear his loud snores. So if I am the stakeholder and I can buy lingerie for myself then why not decide the Right guy for me.  Worse are the relatives, I am sure God never created them as always they were the Unwelcome Guests.

 Dad taught That there is only one  God.

 I had been the most disobedient daughter always. The one who is defiant. The one who fights back. The one who is clever and the one who decides for herself.  But the very rudimentary requirements of life held to me so closely.

 I find it difficult to understand all our  lives our  parents say  wear long skirts , cover your knees, don’t bend like that and so much but  suddenly the idea to spend the rest of our  lives  sleeping with an American stranger  appears so tempting.  

As I told , I learnt my   lessons too well.

 The diffused sunlight on the photo of the galloping horses and fighting soldiers across the bed suddenly with the tinge of golden hue appear so haunting and daunting.

I finally married the Guy I wanted to. Good for my parents they agreed for the occasion and even better for my relatives who other than eating chicken and enjoying the music largely kept to themselves.

Last time I spoke to the American – Indian – Bengali Guy he  said   in ameican English “ To understand 9/11.you  had goota been in New York.

 To understand me Mr “ Im an American  Passport” you gotta have an Indian Heart.

 I found  it easier to say  to the Indian Guy “ I drink whisky, travel alone, suffered a broken relationship and will not testify my virginity.

You came in my life when I was under most troubled times. If not friends or Man and Wife we could have definitely never remained just  “ Strangers”.

On this very day, I celebrate the act of defiance and the fact that I celebrate “ Woman’s Day with you as my girlfriends are not around”.