A name is a label for a noun, (human or animal, thing, place, product [as in a brand name] and even an idea or concept), normally used to distinguish one from another. This is the formal definition of a name as per wikipedia. So it can be concluded with a certain degree of surety that every one of us has a name. In case you still do not have one, go for Player or Player1 if the former is already used. The gamers must have got this one. Actually these are the default names in computer games.
Now, it is a well established fact that as you scale over space and time, you will find a wide range of variations in names. If we go back in time and observe the Greek names then it can be seen that they had an air of royalty and dignity to them. Ethos, Zeus, Athena, Helios are some of them. Ancient Indian names were rather simple, despite the Sanskrit origin. Names like Ram, Sita, Laxman, Karan, Arjun sound rather simple. But that of course is only for us, the Indians. Think of the poor foreigners. I wonder if they have a hand in the conversion of these names into Rama, Laxmana, Arjuna and Ravana and so on. The fact behind this is that in Sanskrit, these names are written without a ‘Halanth’ on the last letter, and hence ought to be pronounced as ‘Ram-uh’. But nevertheless, mispronouncing names is an art in itself and hence I shall be covering it in a subsequent section.
The story of the diversity of names has one of its best manifestations in arguably the worlds most diverse and yet united nation, India. I shall start with a reference to Utter Pradesh, the place where I have been brought up. Most of the names in UP are rather simple. People here prefer to keep it straightforward and common, thereby avoiding the tongue-twisters. Names like Ram, Rahul, Sunil, Ashish, and Vaibhav are brought to adequate use. In fact names of revered gods and those related to wealth, success, blessings, charm and all the possible virtues are a prerequisite. That of course is true for the whole country I guess, a country which has immense faith in the almighty. Now the nicknames in rural UP and Bihar are also noteworthy. An interesting trend is to add ‘va’ to the end of the name as a mark of affection. Another observation about UP and adjoining states is the importance of ‘Kumar’ as a middle name for males. In rural areas some still use ‘Kumari’ for the counterparts. Maybe it just tells a story about the status of females in the masses of UP, a state with a sex ratio of 898/1000.
Next, I shall come to Orissa, which of course is my home state. The Oriya names are yet again derived from the mother of all languages, Sanskrit and hence are more often than not similar to the regular North Indian names. What is different though, is the manner of presentation. Being a coastal state, the climate in Orissa indirectly fabricates a rather laidback atmosphere. This reflects in the nature of the people and hence the dialect. The best illustration would of course be my very own name- Pradeepta Panigrahi. (Talking of the foreign influence on Indian names, as referred to earlier in this text, as I was writing my name, the suggestion that popped up for correction was ‘Prudent Pangram’)
Now the Oriya pronunciation for my name is Pr-awe-dipt-awe Pa-rni-grahi. The extended ‘awe’ in most names is a corollary of the laziness in the air. This has been a cause of great awe for the non-Oriya people I have been living with and a pain in my neck. That is yet another story we shall be coming back to. Oriya also lacks the sophisticated ‘sh’ and the ‘v’ becomes ‘b’. Taking all these laws into account, I present before you, some salient Oriya pronunciations of various names. Prashant becomes Pr-awe-sant-awe, Ashok is Awe-soak, Viabhav is ‘Bouy-bhawb’ and so on. I could go on and on. The Oriya nicknames are generally terminated with a ‘u’. Apu (That’s me), Deepu, Pappu, Litu, Babu, Tutu, Pintu etc. In fact as I make this list, I realize that more than half of my family and acquaintances have these names.
Now coming to my personal favorite, Bengali! Bengali, they say is the sweetest of all the languages. So, not surprisingly, the Bengali names have as much sugar in them as in there Dals. The names are more or less simple but once again, their pronunciations follow a different set of rules altogether. Sourav is generally pronounced as Shourab, Ravindra as Robindro and Lalita as Lolita (Please do not think as far as Russia). The nicknames are also unique in their own sense. To enlist some, we have Bhombol, Potol, Kaloo, Gogol, Tubul, Choton, Bubai, Chonti, and Dinku. Please mind the extensions for the nicknames, eg Gogo-o-o-o-o-l. You must have noticed the recurrence patterns in each of the nicknames and of course, the extensive use of ‘sh’ and the phonetic ‘o’ in them. Awe!!! Sho Shweet !!!
Likewise, all the names signify something about the region. While, most of the Punjabi’s are Jaspreets or Harmeets or Gurpreets with the ‘Singh’ (the lion, a symbol of strength, something which the Punjabis are extremely proud of) as their title, the prolonged South Indian names, which comprise of their own names, their fathers names, their family’s name, their Birthplace’s name and a god’s name as well, are just an indicative of their discipline, meticulousness and extreme faith in god. Imagine my name if would have hailed from that neck of the woods- New York Krishna Pradeepta Prasanta Panigrahi. Similarly, the Marathis have the ‘+kars’ and ‘+e’, the Gujaratis with the Patels and ‘+bhai’ adjusted here and there and of course the North Easterns with the Chinese resemblance, together constitute a colorful kaleidoscope of names which is a true image of the colors of India.
Now, coming to the execution part of this story, with special reference to my own name. As I have mentioned earlier, my name is Pradeepta Panigrahi and is rather unique in Indian names. Now having a unique name has its own pros and cons. The major advantage of having a unique name is that it is….er!...unique. At least you do not have three others responding simultaneously. The disadvantage of course, is that the probability of the other person getting it right is extremely low. Worse than that, the mispronounced name also becomes a source of ridicule for the culprit and the listeners. This situation can be rather embarrassing during childhood or even adulthood and the fact that it happens time and again, makes it more of a traumatic experience.
I have been one of those who has had to live through a lot of stigmas related to my name ever since I had been christened. In the beginning it was tough and irritating but nowadays it’s rather fun to see the all the new variants of my name prop up. The worst experience probably was when I was in fifth grade. My teacher saw the ‘a’ at the end of my name and spontaneously came up with the theory that, Pradeeptaaa is supposed to be a girl’s name (Hey by the way, I hope you readers know that I am, in fact a boy). I had cried like hell that day and was livid on my mother for giving me this name. But I learned that it was actually my father’s idea and the cause behind it was that my father’s younger brother, who had died at a tender age, had this very name. This fact probably pacified me to some extent.
Nevertheless, the very next year I had a breakthrough in my name’s pronunciation. A new school and a new Hindi teacher was the reason. Till now I had gotten so used to Pradeeptaaa that, on being asked my name, I said exactly that. Now this teacher had her reservations. She immediately dismissed the prior one and also criticized me for accepting it. She also asked the entire class to call me Pradeept. I was elated and over the moon. This would probably have meant the end of an era. But my mother did not seem very pleased. She was adamant on it being pronounced Pr-awe-dipt-awe. I tried to convince her that this would not be possible anywhere outside Orissa. So we settled on Pradeept-uh. The teacher who changed my name phonetically did struggle a bit with the spelling at the end of that session. I was horrified to see my name on my report-card, spelled as Pradeepat. Believe it or not, she even explained the logic to my mother. Such was the extent of this fear of being ridiculed that I preferred using my nickname Apu. It is because of this that only a few people know my real name in my colony.
Now it’s time to mention some of the most hilarious versions of my name. Pradeep is a rather obvious one. Someone, on being told Pradeep-tuh by me actually heard Pradeep Dutt. In fact one of my seniors started calling me ‘tuh’ during the ragging period. Some of my batchmates think I am Pranigrahi i.e. one who consumes living things. Some have made it Pani-ghadi which translates to Hand-watch. Folks! Hold your breath for this one. My fourth grade English teacher summoned me as Shudeepto. No prizes for guessing that she was a Bengali. My college friends circle has decided that they are better off giving up. They call me Prady.
Today, I am twenty years old. I have completed half of my Bachelor’s degree. But despite that, I am certain that the onset of every new semester shall lead to the discovery of yet another variant of my name. This shall be followed by a burst of laughter and a ridiculous explanation-cum-suggestion. But over the years, I have learned to simply laugh it off. I take pride in the bottom-line that I get to teach something to my teacher before he can do the same to me. Since every human on this planet is unique, they deserve a unique identity. I have one.
P.S.- In case you were wondering what my name actually means then this should help you:
Pradeepta- Enlightened.
Panigrahi- One who shall marry.
Anyone willing to marry this enlightened one?
