We Are Rekh
“Oh dear, you both have the same name! When one is called, the other might respond. Or one might think she’s being summoned while the other actually is. No, this won’t do. You must change your name, do you understand?”
What the maid understood, no one knew. But so far, we’ve both kept our respective names. There were moments of confusion, but we managed to get by without much trouble.
Everything changed when Aunt arrived. She visits Dhaka for three weeks every year. During that time, she stays with us, mostly for medical check-ups to ensure the continued health of every organ in her body. My father, being a well-known doctor, gives her special treatment, even by passing appointments. My brother and I suspect she comes less for her health and more for the VIP privileges.
This time was no different. Aunt is particularly fond of me. Unlike some who favor sons, she spoils me more than my brother. Because of his direct nature, she doesn’t meddle with him much. Though I appear calm, I’m his biggest accomplice. There’s no competition between us for Aunt’s affection. Whenever she visits, she brings my favorite treats: rice cakes, coconut sweets, egg-yolk halwa rich with milk, mango pulp, pickled guavas, and more.
After some rest, Aunt called out,
“Where’s Rekha? Let’s see if Noor’s mother packed everything properly.”
Rekha, the maid, appeared shyly with a broom in hand.
“Which bag should I open, Aunt?”
“Wait, what’s this? I called for Rekha, not you!”
“I’m Rekha,” the maid replied.
Confusion erupted.
“What? You’re Rekha?”
By then, I’d entered, followed by my brother. With a grin, he tried to ease the tension,
“Yes, Aunt, now we have two Rekhas at home. One’s a straight line, the other’s a curve. Or you can think of them as Rekha One and Rekha Two. I’m sure you can guess who’s the curve.”
He smiled gently, pointing at the maid, who stood with a tight expression.
Though my mother once suggested changing the maid’s name, she didn’t push because of my brother’s strong objection. Mother has always been swayed by his logic. I wasn’t the least bit annoyed. I know my brother’s heart, it’s like an open sky, full of space for everyone’s thoughts. He never distinguishes between rich and poor. His dream is of a world without social divides. He knows it’s impossible, yet still says,
“You can offer simple humanity. Perhaps, with enough kindness, a society of equals can be built.”
Rekha could’ve been forced to change her name simply because she’s poor. But despite her position, she was allowed to keep it. Her family had given that name lovingly; why should she lose it? Why should she bear the burden alone?
So the name remained.
My brother often gives us little titles, funny adjectives, before our names.
“You’re both straight lines,” he once laughed. “Not curves. Though… that’s another issue, right?”
I didn’t quite grasp what he meant, but I knew Aunt wouldn’t let the matter go. Still, it didn’t worry me. I trust my brother will once again protect Rekha from having to give up what’s rightfully hers.
And I’ll be standing beside him.
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