Bully aunty..!

A few years ago while attending the funeral of an aunt of mine, a little boy came to the cemetery rather late and sidling up to me asked, “Is this the funeral of Bully Aunty?” “Bully Aunty?” I gasped looking to see whether my uncle whose wife it is we had just buried had heard, but I saw him grinning.
“That’s what she was called!” he laughed with tears in his eyes. “Not because she was a bully, oh no God bless her soul, but because we had a dog named Bully and the whole colony knew me as Bully Uncle and your aunt as Bully Aunty!” “Didn’t it bother you?” I asked afterwards. “Of course not! Why should it have?” asked my uncle looking at me curiously a little puzzled.
I’ve always remembered that incident and laughed. Yet I know many, many fathers and mothers who hate to be known as the parents of their children, who fight to have an identity of their own instead of being proud of what their children have achieved. “Are you Ashok’s mother?” “No I’m Mrs Kapoor and I have a son named Ashok!”
I’ve always wondered why we aren’t proud to be known as parents of our own children? For a long time they were known as our children weren’t they? And if they’ve made a name for themselves we also had a part to play in it, so what’s wrong in taking a step back and basking in their glory?
Here’s a little incident and its only to make you laugh, don’t take it too seriously: Many years ago, US Congressman Tribble of Georgia told a story about his daughter. Wherever she went, the little girl was constantly associated with her father. “Oh, you must be Congressman Tribble’s daughter,” well-intentioned adults would coo.
She explained to her parents that she wanted to be herself, not simply known as Congressman Tribble’s little girl. Her father told her not to worry about it. Her mother, who perhaps understood the problem better, suggested, “The next time that happens, just stand right up and say, ‘I am Constance Tribble!
’”The opportunity arose just a few days later. A group of people met her and when they heard her name, they said, “Why, Congressman Tribble must be your father!” Constance looked right back at them and said, “Oh, no! That’s not what my mother says!”
So the next time someone asks you whether you are your child’s father, just look him or her straight in the eye and say, “Oh no! That’s not what his mother says..!”
—Email:bobsba[email protected]

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