What's in a name?

Finally created my own blog. I guess a "Hullo, world!" is in order. I hope my blog gets more of my attention than my web page.

When registering for this blog, I had to pick a name for it. Needing to name something is still one of my guaranteed time sinks. Back in college, we organized "hops" - all night dances for students. This hop had an elaborate theme based on symbols from Rome and figures from Asterix comics, all of which were put together almost single handedly by Dilip Menezes. Everyone was working hard decorating the dance hall. My task? To name the hop! A couple of friends and I were up in the wee hours of the night dishing out one unattractive name after another. We finally settled on Roman Rumble (I think), a contribution I can't take any credit for.

Names and I have always had this hate-hate relationship. Growing up, I was never too fond of my own name. To add insult to injury, a number of aunts and grandmas claimed credit for naming me. My wife, Charu, and I sometimes wonder - have we done our son in too? I like "Advait", but will he? Very few people seem to be able to pronounce it correctly, even in India! But we weren't optimizing for ease of pronunciation, I tell myself. For what then? Meaning? Maybe. It takes some effort to assign a profound and yet sensible meaning to Advait. I guess we've fallen prey to the prevailing trend among Indian parents to pick culturally significant names based on old Sanskrit words. I hope Addu (as we call Advait) won't feel like Gogol Ganguly from the Namesake when he grows up. We'll see. If he retains his current enthusiasm, it doesn't look like he'll be fazed by much.

Charu and I agonized over names for months before Advait was born. We grew up in different parts of India, and are used to different names. I preferred simple names like Mohan or Tamil names like Kadiravan, which sound magical to me. Charu felt these were very common in the south and impart as much distinction to their bearer as Raju, Pappu or Bunty. Instead, she preferred names like Narhari or Dhurandhar Bhatawdekar. Ok, I'm making those examples up, but some of her choices had the same ring to them.

I tell myself I'm older and wiser now and that names don't really matter. Shakespeare and I are in violent agreement.