we talk about everything-
songs, food, places to go,
the new restaurants,
the old regrets,
and the usual gossip
about life.
after the usual loop,
we always slip
into the family stuff-
the dysfunctions,
the taunts,
the tiny wars at home.
we blame our fathers
for being toxic to our mothers,
we psychoanalyse them
like two trained therapists
with pitchers in hand.
we call out patriarchy
with big words,
strong opinions,
heavy statements.
i suddenly realise,
i don't know his mom's
name. he says Dilshaad.
he asks mine,
i say Sudha--
two decades of friendship
choked by the void that
sat in the names of women
we claim to defend-
alaas! patriarchy isn’t in
the fathers, sons or
those other oldies-
it quietly sits inside our
vocabulary.
crazy how, the change
we wish to see can
begin with the awareness
that his/her mom has
a NAME.