𝗸𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝗮
(𝗻) 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾.

𝗚𝗘𝗠𝗠𝗔 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗔𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗥
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

For as along as she could remember, her name had always been Mayil.

"Mayil! Go get appa's socks from his room!"

"Mayil, give your younger sister the pink coat and you take the blue one."

"Mayil, hang out with Billa and his friends in school so that girl won't bother you again."

Mayil. It had always been Mayil.

So familiar and intimate.

Full of grace and beauty, like a peacock.

The name held deep meaning, and thus the owner of it was responsible to carry out its heavy burden. To live up to its great significance and to flourish in character.

You would think Maribel's parents were wise and nostalgic when choosing this particular name. Their second-born, their first daughter, surely she would live up to its great fervour. Surely she would blossom into a woman of great strength. A woman enriching with beauty and grace, just like a peacock.

Albeit there seemed to be a small fact they overlooked.

A peacock.

Sure, it was Maribel's mother's favourite animal. An elegantly enchanting animal with its intricately coloured feathers. An enigma of what's conventionally seen.

But it also meant an ostentatious or vain person.

However, they disregarded this fact. For the good outweighed the bad. it's coruscating charisma only a scheme to whelve the dirty truth. Right, no matter how ensorcelling the symbolism was behind it, they were just delusions of it being more beautiful than it actually was. And suddenly,

she was no longer Mayil.

When Mayil had entered school for the first time, at the raw age of 3 completely unaware of her documented government name, she had entered 'the real world'. Her glowing, aureate complexion lost its value and became a tarnished bronze in the eyes of her peers.

She wasn't Mayil at school as she was at home. Whatever remnants of indigenous she carried was stripped away from her. Unsuspectingly and cruelly. Poor, innocent, juvenescent Mayil became confused. Any curiosity she had, harshly shut down without even a moments breadth. It was a memory that would not leave her mind despite being so young.

Mayil wasn't called by her name anymore. She was called by an unfamiliar one. And when the teacher had repeatedly called out her name, for whatever reason necessary, Mayil had intentionally ignored her. A very bad thing she did.

Mayil had been disrespectful.

Accused of giving her teacher the cold shoulder, Mayil was used as a deterrent for the rest of the kids. Yelled at for her ignorance, ridiculed for her insolence, and wrongfully punished for her disrespectful behaviour.

Mayil wouldn't have know that. She was only a child, lost in the haven of her reverie.

The name Maribel had got her in trouble contrary to the encouraging words of that auntie.

When Mayil's father had heard of what happened on the night of the incident before they had succumbed to the darkness of slumber, he had immediately sprung up in anger. The intensity of his emotion a hybrid of his love for his first daughter and the decades worth of suppressed anguish from discrimination.

And Mayil's heart flared. Appa had gotten angry for her sake. She closed her eyes that night, relishing in the warmth of her father's embrace, she was his little girl. The rough calluses of his large hands releasing a pleasant heat as it held her much smaller, softer ones. The itching prickle of his beard on her cheek now less annoying than usual as he coddled her. Saying how he was going to casually swing and knock the teacher's divorcing teeth back into place for having the audacious nerve to yell at his precious little tankam. She tittered like the little girl she was at his jocular words and responded with her youthful innocence, that the teacher would find it hard to eat without her teeth.

Mayil loved her Appa so much.

But why did it hurt more the day after when her dad had gone to confront the teacher?

Mayil could only watch horrified at her father's dampening expression as the teacher fought back his words of concern for his precious tankam. Mayil didn't understand what she was yelling at him. The language was different from her usual spoken language. It was too fluent, too fast for a three year old to comprehend.

Her previously warm heart sank in despair as her father was interrupted any chance he made to speak. He tried so hard. His absolute hardest to tell the teacher that Mayil wasn't called Maribel at home and that she wasn't accustomed to the name hence her unintentional cold shoulder.

But to no avail, his efforts were for naught. Appa's loud and groggy voice was silenced despite his utmost refusal.

Maribel had witnessed her hero's first defeat that day.

And it burnt. It ached.
It hurt her little heart so much.

From that incident onward, Mayil attempted to make no more complaints to her Appa about her school life. Fearing that her hero would make such defeated expression again.

And despite her heart's refusal, she allowed those to call her by that wretched name. No protest of her disproval would be enough to stop any of the teachers. They yapped on about how it was part of 'the school's regulations'. Maribel figured there was no reasoning with these fools.

Whatever, she'd brush it off. These people are strangers to me anyway, she comforted her little self. As long as her family called her by Mayil, that in itself would be enough to sate the repressed frustration in her little heart.

3 years old became a wistful memory of the past and Mayil had grown to become around 6 years of age. She could vaguely remember her bubbling exciting when packing her suitcases for their unfrequent visit to Eelam, their native land. Elation doubling in size when she enthusiastically opened up the freebies the children on the flight were given before it took off with her Anne and Suranika. Sawri and Udai had yet to be born then.

Perhaps it was a good thing though, the three could enjoy their childish selfs momentarily.

Mayil's fervour was quickly crumbled towards the end of the flight during the landing where she proceeded to puke her guts out. It was hard to forget the pitiful looks the pretty flight attendants sent her way as she vomited in the empty packaging where the pillows and blankets were served. Mayil was utterly disgusted, and it didn't help much that the puke leaked from the hole at the bottom.

There was nothing more she wanted to do than go home and shower.

Mayil was young at the time so she didn't make much of it back then, but it was your typical South Asian family. Amma's side of the family didn't get along with Appa's side, and Appa's side of the family didn't get along with Amma's.

If they did ever meet up, it was regarded with feigned sincerity and artificial greetings. There honest hospitality was masked bewitchingly with hypocrisy. Everything was once again delusions to make things appear more beautiful than they really were.

Remember that time where it was briefly mentioned that Maribel had no right to call Kaiser inbred? And how both sides of Mayil's family were intertwined by blood relations? It was a bit complicated to explain, but in short, Maribel's amma was first cousins with her appa's mother (Mayil's grandmother from the dad side).

Before you spout whatever's on your mind, there were plenty of reasons for their homogamy, hence Maribel's persistence on teaching a vellakaren how to wash his arse after a shit and marrying him onwards, surely she would break this generational custom.

Most of the times, homogamy was practiced because of cultural beliefs. If one were to be unconventional and go against their societal traditions, they were the stain of dishonour. A sordid shame they've bought upon the family, labelling them as the black sheep deserving of disdain.

But quite strangely, Mayil's parents actually did fall in love with each other. Don't ask her how, it just sort of happened. They knew each other since childhood, so perhaps love somehow bloomed somewhere along the line. After their marriage in france, heavy hostility grew between both sides of the family, leading to today's current situation.

Mayil had to make the choice of her lodgement, with her mother's side or with her father's side. Amma usually stayed with her family, and as her loyal husband, appa stayed beside her. Anne (older brother) slept at father's side of the family since there was a cousin his age there. And Suranika was often switching between both places.

Mayil however, had become so accustomed to being beside her amma and appa, her vehement loyalties' laid unconditionally with her parents. And it always had. And it always will.

Plus, Mayil liked quiet.

There was no young children on her mother's side's home in Negombo. Just grandpa, grandma, her two aunties and her favourite cousin that was a few years older than her.

Quiet was nice. Quiet was peaceful.

A perfect place for her favourite pastime. Incorrectly lounging on the black armchair, her head on one armrest, face smushed against the cold leather of the settee as her legs dangled off of the other side. The tv playing tamil dramas acting as a source of white noise which forbade Mayil to dwell too much in inner philosophy.

There was also a sense of tranquility as she napped on the sofa placed right beneath the mahogany ceiling fan that spun on the second highest setting, never the highest since her aunties made numerous complaints about it being too cold or being a waste of electricity.

Quiet was golden.
Quiet was predictable: within her control.

Mayil took their comments lightly, enjoying herself as she basked in the halcyon sunlight that peeked through the open front door. Strong notes of cumin, garlic, and onions pervaded through the house, replacing the balmy air that the fan cleared out. As if the tepidity of the sun wasn't enough, the heat of the kitchen seeped through the walls and left her parched.

And yet despite her desperate need for hydration, Mayil's legs remained frigid. Too lazy to grab herself a drink from the stainless steel water jug on the table, Mayil fell victim to the entertainment of her ludicrous mind. Lost in the lands of her reverie as she deliriously imagined herself to be the heroine of her childhood show, shugo chara. But perhaps she should've gotten up. Waking up with a bad neck was always such a hassle.

Mayil especially liked quiet because it made the heat become more bearable.

Mayil liked being here because she was given princess treatment. Her aunties even offered her the large king sized bed they usually shared when they weren't here! When Mayil asked them to swap places with her because she felt bad for their backs, they brushed it off, saying they were more accustomed to sleeping on the floor cushioned with a straw mat than on the bed. They even let her use the ceiling fan despite their complaints of it being 'too cold'! Also, whenever Mayil needed to go toilet in the middle of the night, one of them always offered to stay on watch duty for her safety as she used the bathroom. They even protected her from those monstrous looking cockroaches! She could stay up late till night watching the dramas that her aunties couldn't live without. Plus, every morning she always woke up to fresh apom manis her grandpa had bought just for her!

And what made it all the more better was that she even got to sleep under the super cool, see-through, royal, princess like bed canopy!

It was actually a mosquito net...

But the main reason why Mayil preferred to stay here was because they called her by her name. They called her Mayil, and they called her that so affectionately, so earnestly.

But whenever Mayil visited her dad's side, they always called her by that wretched name...

it it always Maribel there.

It had even reached a point where her Anne and Suranika called her that. Something that had utterly shattered her soul. Mayil couldn't stay there, it hurt her little heart too much when she stayed there. Plus, she didn't get the princess treatment over there as she did over here. They didn't offer her a whole bed like her aunties did, you had to share with everyone else and mayil didn't like sharing a bed.

It was always so stuffy, and uncomfortable, and unbearably hot.

She also didn't have a place to ruminate under a fan. There was barely any silence. It was always so loud, and it didn't help that the neighbouring kids came over to play. All they did was watch in amazement as her cousin revved the engine of his dad's motorcycle, boasting off his skills despite his young age. It was so rowdy, so vociferous. so boring.

Mayil liked quiet, not loudness.

Mayil also didn't like it when her siblings and cousins locked her out of the house upstairs as they watched her cringy vlogs on her iPad despite her evident disproval. It was so exposing and embarrassing but they laughed it off, telling her she couldn't take a 'simple joke'.

There were numerous occasions where they had informed her of their prior visit to the beach. And it hurt so much because they went and ate freshly fried vadas, thosais along with rio ice-creams and parfaits. They didn't bring her with them because 'she fell asleep on them', because 'she didn't stay at theirs, so it was on her she missed out'. That was their excuse.

It was so unfair.

Mayil was always left out.

However, the guava fruits her other grandpa grew were always so delicious. They were a pretty reddish coral like colour and so pleasantly sweet to eat. So perhaps not everything was wistful about that place.

But no amount of sweetness could overcome the bitterness of that name.

That stupid name.

Mayil didn't like the name 'Maribel' and yet despite her obvious distaste for the name, they never stopped calling her that. Whenever her anger reached breaking point and she snapped, Mayil was always scolded at for raising her voice. Mocked at for taking things too seriously.

It hurt so much.

When she asked them why they called her that, her curiosity reaching heights unheard of, their response was short, curt, and very simple. It was always a case of,

"that is your given name, and we should respect it by calling you that name."

Despite her dissatisfaction, Mayil remained quiet. Fearing her inquiry would only bring upon another lecture, she silenced her little voice, her thoughts only growing louder in response.

Mayil was too innocent to understand the real reason. She was born in a western country and thus was deserving of being called a western name, that was their ideology. A stupid one.

She was not one of them.

There were many things Mayil didn't enjoy, like for example having her amma aggressively use a double sided lice comb on her head. It was every South Asian girl's worst nightmare. No overstatement. There was no gentleness a mother would have with each of her ferocious tugs that would surely snap Mayil neck any moment now.

It hurt like an absolute bitch.

But Mayil bit back any noise of protest as her mother remained relentless, albeit it was short lived when her amma had accidentally scratched her neck. She let out a feral growl before running out of her mother's steel like grasp, freedom in sight when she had stood up and taken a step forward. The frivolous bavardage of her grandparents not seizing as her auntie scolded Mayil's mother for being so violent with her daughter, the other breaking out into a series of laughter.

"Mayil! Get over here!"

The yell of her amma as she beckoned her over with a menacing glare made Mayil shrink back in fear. The pain didn't subside, only getting more heated as her previously restrained rage unleashed.

"I hate my name!!"

Uncaring of the consequences, her ear-piercing scream was deafening, and the tears that accompanied it made it much harder to comprehend the incoherent cries of a child's broken tamil. This had caught the attention of her grandparents, their previous chatter coming to a pause as her grandad stopped the gentle swaying of his rocking chair, the cackle of her auntie also coming to an end.

"....."

A silence encompassed them all, and compare to the usual solace of it, Mayil feared the nerving quietness.

"Child, go get me a banana."

Mayil turned to face her Peeran (grandpa), a look of incredulity glinting bright in the honey-pool of her eyes as she screamed gut-wrenchingly in refusal, telling him to use his legs and get it himself. But before she could even finish letting it out of her system, her mother had pinched her on her thigh. The pain overtaking her senses as her father pulled her by the ear, warning her to get the banana before he beat the shit out of her.

Once Mayil had returned with the banana, purposely choosing the worst one there was, she handed it over to her grandpa who then tapped his lap. Mayil blinked, did he want her to snap his thigh bone in half or something? Nevertheless, she sat on his lap with no questions, watching from her peripheral as he peeled the banana with whatever teeth he had remaining.

She considered asking her appa to knock her peeran's divorcing teeth back into its correct places, but shook off the thought completely. She was angry at her dad for pulling on her ear! Blankly staring as he broke a