WHAT'S IN A NAME?

A famous quote from Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" is "What's in a name'?". In a soliloquy, Juliet, a Capulet in love with Romeo belonging to the sworn rival Montague clan, asks the question and goes on to provide an answer, "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet", implying that names are irrelevant and it is the nature and characteristics of the person that matter.

In our family, as in many others in India, it was forbidden to address older relatives by name. I guess when the first child arrived in a family, he or she was told to address the parents and relatives by monikers which then continued to be used by siblings and future generations. So my Nana's father was known as Chachaji and mother as Bahuji. And everybody including me, a great grandchild, called them that. My cousins and I called my Nana, Pitaji, and Nani, Mataji, and so did our children. On my father's side, I identified a granduncle as Alwarwale Chachaji due to his city of residence.

Many names particularly of ladies were not ever known. Thereby hangs a tale. Bahuji went blind at a very young age and used to spend the daytime draped in a thin cotton sari sitting on a coir charpoy in the 'aangan' of her house. One day, Mummy, then just a kid, got curious and asked Bahuji her name. Bahuji told her to keep quiet and go away but Mummy kept on pestering her. Bahuji's third son, teenager Brijendra Chacha was nearby and listening. He picked up a piece of coal and started scribbling on Bahuji's back which Mummy quite innocently read out loud as he wrote. She went, "Ja-ga-bha-vi-ni" when Bahuji shouted and scolded her for being impertinent because that was her name!

Akhila's family followed the same rule. Her father was called Babuji and mother, Amma, and the whole of Bijnor knew them thus. 

At the National Defence Academy, we were around 1200 cadets at any one time. For clear identification, we were assigned a number and I was 2134 by which I would be known rather than by name. The numbers have stuck to us ever since and some of us still refer to a coursemate by his number. Jhangoo Aga, 2133, and I used to exchange letters addressing one another that way.

It was very important, though, to know a senior's name, in fact the full name, or one would be subject to intensive ragging. I must have done countless front and back rolls till I finally learnt to pronounce and spell the full form of the initials KASZ belonging to one of my seniors, Kankipati Appala Satyanarayana Zagapathi Raju.

A somewhat odd practice in traditional families was for wives and husbands not to take each other's name. I would find it somewhat funny when Pitaji, wanting Mataji's attention, would say, "Kyonji, mein kya keh raha hoon?" Mataji would be more brief and direct with just "Sunoji".

The tradition continues. I am not used to calling Akhila by her name and we catch each other's attention through "Listen". For a short while, I tried 'Darling' abbreviated to 'D+' but then fell back on 'listen'. 

That word is used by many other couples. Interestingly, a very close friend's wife even when talking to Akhila, refers to her spouse as "my husband" and never takes his name.

Not everyone believes that there is nothing in a name. Here is an interesting quote from "Anne of Green Gables"  by L.M. Montgomery- "I read in a book once that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but I've never been able to believe it. I don't believe a rose WOULD be as nice if it was called a thistle or a skunk cabbage."