I was 10, living in an apartment was fun because there were so many kids to play with. One of the kid’s mother saw me for the first time, as they recently moved into our apartment community. She came near me, smiled and asked “What is your name?”.
I said “Ananya”.
Next questions “What is your father’s name ?”
“What your father does?”
I just wanted to run from there without answering. the question didn’t hurt me, I was just tired of the reactions.
I would say ” I live with my mother”. In extreme rare cases, the other person, would be considerate and change the subject. But normally people were so insensitively curious they would keep bombarding me with questions like “Oh, thats sad.What happened?”
“Don’t worry, they will get back together”
“How long has it been?”
“With Whom do you stay?”
“Does your Father meet you?”
Can write endlessly about it, the display of fake sympathy. Over years I was so disgusted with this whole introductory conversation. I used to wonder why nobody started a conversation asking me “Where your Mother works?”.
After few years, my answers changed. I was now capable of reading genuine concern over fake empathy. They still asked about my father but I would say “My mother works in a Bank”, they would repeat the same question again as if I failed to understand it, then I would say “My parents are separated, I live with my mother.”
Some would manage to say “Am so sorry”. If they stopped here, it was good for them else I would smile and sarcastically tell them “Don’t be, am not”.
My parents separation was something I had accepted from a young age, I was never embarrassed by the actual fact , neither did it hurt me. But what I failed to understand is why the questions, “What is your Mother’s name?”, “What does your Mother do?”, were never asked first!********************
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