My parents’ fights resulted in years of court hearings and public drama. However bitter I felt, I reassured myself that they loved me, in their own ways perhaps, individually. And that the judicial system was there for me. This reassurance worked until these thought bubbles burst. Ours was a case of familial violence, which despite being dragged to lengths of public domains like statutory committees and courthouses always remained a matter of unresolved personal feud. The judicial system always remained unjust and unfair to my mother and me, which didn’t only come across as unfair misogynistic violence, it looked like, despite active policies, the government was incapable to help us (or anyone like us).

It would have been easier to accept them as failures of justice than accepting their bias which showed when I turned 18 and it was finally time for me to get all the documents, proving me an adult capable of voting and decision making. Having my own Voter card, Aadhar card (UID), Driving license, etc., was a nice feeling. It made me as normal as any other citizen of the country, until it did not.

Because I’d never lived with my father and after years of no contact, I (correctly) assumed that we didn’t even know the kind of people each of us was, I chose to have my mother’s name in all of my official documents. The officials at the Aadhar office then asked me if I was valiantly pulling off this stunt of blaming the father and choosing the mother’s name because in reality I didn’t have a father and was illegitimate.

Everything that was going to make me feel normal, immediately invalidated my existence because my parents were separated (not divorced). It was shameful and something I couldn’t prove. Even though it was for their well-being, it abnormal–ized me.

Today is a time when it’s very common for one to decide which parent’s name one wishes to have in their document. Or in some cases it’s easier– partly because of certain social-media trends that in reality don’t change the way our allegedly helpful government policies function– to have your mother’s name in your documents (or cricket jerseys) maybe because one’s father has passed. People support one another in such cases. However, we’re talking a decade back here, and it was (and still often is) an act of shame to have your mother’s name instead of (the allegedly more valid) father’s.

The confusing government policies were my parent’s allies: giving them reasons to blame each other all the more and make it about themselves rather than about me.