The Labels I Grew Up With

- Mallika Nawal

WORDS ARE incredibly powerful weapons. Who amongst us has not felt both its warming glow and its cold icy sting… or its companionship and its abandonment… or how majestically it makes us soar to the greatest heights of paradise or how mindlessly it flings us into the deepest darkest recesses of hell! Words are incredibly powerful weapons. And in the hands of the master abuser, words become the precise instruments of psychological abuse. And without so much as lifting a finger, the words you use have the power to bring about the complete destruction of another human being. Words can be weapons of mass destruction.

However, before I begin this month’s piece (an extremely personal one at that), let me first announce what I haven’t announced to the rest of the world as yet: “I’m getting engaged!”

Well… I am not young… at least not by “Indian Societal Standards”, which is probably why my family got the biggest shock of their lives when they first got the news… a feat, nonetheless! — considering they are seldom shocked by anything I do. But… let’s reserve that for another time and another piece, for I am not here to regale you with their tales of insurmountable disbelief. In fact, some have still not recovered their power of speech (then again, good riddance, I say — for disarmament always is). Of course, that brings me back to the present: the curious case of words as weapons.

My family had a way with both words and weapons, and they knew how to use them well — or not so well (depending on your position vis a vis their respective words and/or weapons). Of course, although I never had to stare down the barrels of their guns, their words often found me an easy target. This is probably why, even though my decision to get married is one of the happiest decisions I have ever made, I can’t help but reminisce…