Cursive

Riyaa...?

Riyuuu ? Raka?

The strangest thing was happening to Mrs Roy Choudhury as she sat in the shiny-tiles lobby of the insurance office, checking

with her husband's umpteenth policies that were now supposed to get her by.

For no good reason, She was trying to recall her nickname - you know, that

often funny, always  pointless, quarter-of-a- name

that our close ones insist on calling us by, despite the fact that we have a perfectly spellable ,

fairly whole name anyway. That sort of thing,

Mrs Roy Choudhury was struggling to recall.

For no good reason, she could not.

She was positive it began with the same 'R' that opened her own name.

Or was that her surname? Mrs Roy Choudhury tried and she tried some

more, but for the love of life, she could not

recall.

'Maa'm, this is where you sign..here'

With a confused jolt, Mrs Roy Choudhury found her way back to the roller-tip pen that had somehow gotten between her fingers.

Slowly, she

traced the cursive loops of the surname that she had been bestfriends with for the last seventeen years.

Roy Choudhury -

'Is that all? Do I need to sign anywhere else?' she asked with uncharacteristic deftness.

' That would be all for now Maa'm' , the young agent smiled sympathetically.

Slowly,

Mrs Roy Choudhury got up to leave for a home where the other half of her surname no longer waited

for her to return.

It was still her home though.

And it was still her surname. But, honestly,

what was that funny name they called her by in school ?????

For the love of life, she could not

remember.

'Yuhin, pehlu mein baithe rahon..

aaaj jaane ki..zidd na karo...'