The Perils of Nomenclature

The stars gave a message on the day I was born. Just that my dad was busy deluding himself that he is now the proud father of some sort of neo-alexander and failed to notice it. No, the stars did not want my parents to give me back to them when i was 16, you read a lot of hindu mythology for your age. They just wanted me to have a name starting with the thamizh alphabet "Na". Dad grinned coz he had already worked out a name for me, star or no star. The stars gave up with an audible sigh. When the odds are stacked against them, they safely quit and become black holes.

One thing my dad didnt realise at that time was there were many other dads who had seen the same movies he had, who had a son born at the same time, who had got hit by falling meteorite and for some unspecified reason decided to name their son with a "unique" and "hip" name. Sadly, the idea of global perspective was lost on them. Result, one just had to call my name and an army would turn up in response. Actually, that wasnt the biggest problem.

I had to sit for half my life in the front bench because a few bone-head professors wanted the class to do a mexican wave when they call out the roll numbers, and Roll No. 03 comes within the spit-zone of most of them when they lecture. They never gave me an umbrella allowance even,

I get the report card first in school which means the teacher is fresh and raring to let me realise the imbalance of wielding authority in the relationship we share. His dotted-cane simply slurps and asks for a quick bite.

Having a name that rhymes with baloon, and looking like one doesnt help much.

Actually, when i sit back and think, maybe it is not __that__ bad.

- Can't really seem to remember an occasion when people had a problem trying to find my name from a list. Now, that could be because an apparent lack of people trying to find me. Can't really blame them. In biblical times, No one really went in search of Lucifer.

- Am so glad my surname is not Babu. Gives me the feeling that i am wearing loin-cloth.

- Often, my nick is the same as my name. It is a real challenge to make a shorter nick than a four-lettered name. (Three letters in my mother tongue).

- North Indians neither chew my name and spit it out like paan nor do they mistrust me like am a ISI agent from the south. I am not Senthamizhchelvan or Muthamizharasu or ShenbagaPandian.

- Non-Indians are happy too since my name is not as orally challenging as Parthasarathy or Vijayaraghavan or Kasthurirangan (Seriously, we need to have them in mind before we name our children).

- In the blind man's world (Read: A world with Mpumelelo Mbangwa, Romesh Kaluwitharana, Sidath Wettimuny and Ryan Sidebottom), the one eyed man (Read: Me) is King.

Man, I love my name.

There, Enough narcissism for the day.