What Is In A Name You Ask?

When a baby is born, the parents have a huge amount of responsibility to deal with. For first time parents it is even worse, because they have no idea of what they need to do, and they cannot stop worrying about what is the right way to do things. This is a baby, who you realise is more precious to you than life itself, the very first time you see him, hold him, and the entire responsibility of his life is placed on you. It would be alright if this were a walking, talking person, but this one does not do any of those things, atleast yet. So how do you fulfill his needs if he cannot even tell you what they are. He cries for everything, when he is hungry,sleepy,in a wet diaper or has air trapped in his windpipe from suckling too hard, and you need to figure out what the crying is all about, sometime it maybe just to get you to hold him. Its quite crazy, to be honest and add to that the responsibility of finding a good name for him. And that my friend, is not an easy task.

When the BB was born, I had a pre-selected boy name. Actually I had two, since I had wanted twins, but the ultrasound scans had dashed all my hopes, and I knew it would be just one. So one name was what I had in mind for a boy and and one for a girl.(I did not officially know the sex of the child, since it is illegal in India to disclose that, but I had a strong hunch from the second trimester that it would be a boy).However, when the BB was born, the name did not feel so good anymore, neither the GP, nor I wanted to keep it. And so began the hunt for a name. And it took us nearly a month to finalise it. And then we thought the job is done. But apparently not.

There are explanations galore that I have to give to people, who have a million questions to ask, about why we named him what we did. For those who don't know, the DH and I were born to families of different faiths, and hence the name could have been signifying either of the faiths, Christianity or Hinduism. We picked a name that is Greek in origin, because we both liked the name, its meaning and it sounded wonderful to us. Barely did I know the game had just begun, when I felt that it was actually done. Before the name was selected, there were strong hints and messages sent across to the DH by his relatives, telling him a Hindu name was not acceptable, and later I have ended up hearing no end to it.

To me a name is a word, belongs to a language, not any religion per se. So its the meaning and phonetics of the words that were important to me. I did not care to give him a name that is Indian so to say, because I had to, I just wanted something nice. I was not determined in picking any particular kind of name. I wanted something Egyptian or Greek because both the mythologies entice me and I find them very exotic. My own name is quite exotic, but quite a tongue twister, and I knew I definitely did not want that for the BB. All my life I have heard my name butchered and liked it a little less for that. The Hindu/Christian angle in a name just never occurred to me. With a high probability of not being in India all our lives, I found it a sensible thing to give him a name, which is easier to pronounce. The only thing I had decided on , was the first alphabet of the name, that had to be. It is the last alphabet of the DH's first name, because I thought of this as signifying that his son, would take up from where he leaves, had it been a girl, it would have been the last alphabet of my own name, same reasoning.

As is the case, when you tell someone you have had a baby recently, they ask the name. And so often I have had surprised looks and words from people for not giving him an Indian name. How could I not put a bit of my ethnic background in his name I have been asked time and again. An old colleague infact told me quite bluntly on the face, that India has great names to offer, and its only stupid people, who want to ape the west who go looking for non-Indian names. I was quite taken aback by his hostile reaction. And there have been more and more and more such incidents. I do not even bother to reason anymore.

But I wonder what is this mentality about Indian names. What is the issue here? That we cannot open up and accept new things, or is our culture not strong enough in itself? I have heard and known names formed out of Indian languages all my life, and hence the name I picked sounded more unique and exquisite to me. When people from other cultures can appreciate and adapt to our culture, why can we not do the same to theirs. What is the big deal? Does that not make us a richer culture, when we combine some more. And selecting a name from a non-Indian language, does not alter the culture of an entire nation so to speak. And the culture that people so wish to defend, also includes, sati, dowry deaths, spitting on the roads, wife beating and worse. So get off the high horses, people. Its my child's name. I choose what I want to, you have issues, move on, and name your own child, I don't need your censure.

The name has nothing to do with religion or culture, it is just something that I believe would sound good, and be meaningful. I don't believe in surnames either for that matter. I believe in individuality, and the burden of a family name weighs us down. I am what I am, not what my ancestors have been over generations. Every family name, carries an energy with it I believe, based on the people who have formed the blood line, and the heritage of carrying it scares me honestly. I want to be free, and do what I want to do, as I want to do it. Not carrying a surname, does not mean I am any less related to the people who are family, but it does make me feel free. In India, it is quite impossible to expect to survive without a surname, and even worse in a state like Maharshtra where the name has to have the father's/husband's name inserted into yours, else you lack credibility. I was actually questioned at my passport's police clearance, for not mentioning the DH's name as my middle name. Imagine, what would have happened, had I gone without a surname or even my maiden surname for that matter. The police officer would have probably fainted. It is just so pathetically regressive, that it is not even funny any more. So if I ever manage to get to a truly free land, I am getting rid of all surnames, and may just pick a fun last name, or maybe use the DH's first name as my last name, like Sushma Swaraj does. Would probably do that even for the BB, I don't need him carrying the burden of family names. Want him to grow up as a strong individual, a good human in his own right, without names shackling him down.

My name was selected in a lucky lot kind of way, traditionally. A few names were selected, (not based on particular alphabets or anything) written on the floor, like rangoli/aalpona and diyaas were lit, one for each name. The last one to remain lit was the chosen one. The BB's name came from a lot of googling, seeing baby name sites and constant discussion between the DH and me. The DH's was picked by his father. How was your's chosen, or your child's for that matter?

Just What I Needed

As goes with my shopping frenzies, I get obsessed with one thing at a time, and keep buying loads of the same. At different points in time, they have been sarees, dupattas, footwear, bed covers,coffee mugs and such like. I just need an excuse to shop of course, but then I do OD on particular objects at different times. The current flavour is accessories, and I am definitely overdoing it. I have way too many necklaces with me now, and I still want some more. Recently say a post on Sraikh's blog about this nice necklace stand she has, and felt I could do with one too, its so much more trouble opening a box, and sifting through the contents to find the one I like.

Last evening, for the lack of anything to do, I brought out my box of jewelery to look at my collection and feel pleased. I just opened it, and lo- behold, my wish is granted. Please see the photos below, for my personalised necklace stand.

The fork in the background, is the one the BB was playing with, for his pretend cooking, before he turned his attention my way.

Now they all look so good, I would never know how to pick one, and it would never look as good on me!!

The BB's Birth Announcement

When the BB was born, I had everything set in place. I need to have everything set in place for my peace of mind. I can be a bit like Monica from F.R.I.E.N.D.S. , though not so much anymore. I had no idea how groggy I would be post surgery, so I had made a written list of people to be informed, marked for those who needed to be called up immediately, those who were to be messaged and such like. I had even composed the message to be sent, and left it on the DH's mobile. Yes, I am super thorough that way, and I have to be, when my man is overly relaxed about everything.

Yesterday, I was thinking about the day the BB was born, and remembered the text message, they were four rhyming lines that had been sent out. And suddenly realised my mobile phone was the only place where I had a copy saved. The GP changes phones too frequently, and I had no expectations of him having a copy anywhere. And the one in which I had a copy, was the one which died when I had been to India in March this year.It just died, and I could retrieve nothing from it. I was worried about the photos mainly at that point, having completely forgotten about the important messages I had on it. And yesterday the realisation dropped on me like a bomb. I searched high and low, on my PC, hoping I had it on a mail or some document, but no such luck. Then I checked the memory card of my old phone, switched on each and every one of the DH's old phones and tried, but no luck. I was so angry, just so angry. Called up the DH, asked him if he had it with him anywhere, I was mostly blabbering and being incoherent, since I was totally upset at that point. No help from that quarter either. He suggested I ask the people we had messaged, and I knew there was no point, it has been over two and half years now, no body would have that message with them, still. And I gave up.

At around 4:30 the DH got back home. Its Ramadan, so he gets back home early these days, and the first thing I told him was get a pen and paper. Somehow like magic the lines came back to me, and he wrote them down. A bit here, a bit there, but finally we got them perfectly. I don't think I have felt the feeling of happiness and relief in a long long time. And thank God, my mind still has the capacity to recollect somethings. And I am putting the lines here, so that I don't lose them again.

We think you should know this,
This is a news you wouldn't wanna miss,
Our family has increased by one,
We now have a baby son.

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On a completely different note, my eyes had been giving me a scare, with blurred vision the past couple of weeks. But then by chance the BB took out my old pair of spectacles, and I tried them on to realise the new pair had the wrong power and was making me go cross eyed. Feel lucky to have realised the problem before I did severe damage to the eyes. And the BB was the one who broke the old pair, forcing me to go get the new one.

Did I Get Lucky?

I wonder sometimes, in relation to the DH. Just today morning, I saw the CBS morning show, and there was a talk about this blog, a woman writes about how her husband annoys her, and gets loads of comments from other women, with similar issues. One has to be really annoyed to start a blog, just about the husband's annoying habits isn't it? But then I think most of these are boy-girl, male-female issues most of us have. Our minds work differently remember? Tara shared this amazing video with me, and as I saw it, all I could think was.....spot on! Go ahead, have a look.


Most women are tiered of the man-ways of the men they live with. I have been very lucky on most of those counts. The DH is not the man who leaves wet towels lying around, or shoes and socks all over the house. I don't have to be a mother to him, when he is sick or tiered. He can serve his food for himself, cook too, when needed, I am not expected to wave him off to work each morning, it is quite alright if I don't cook for a whole week or even a month for that matter, toilet seats have never been an issue.... and I can simply go on and on here. So when I read about all the man- woman issues most women are dealing with, I cannot help but count my lucky stars. Though they make for cute narrations, I guess they can be quite a nagging pain, when needed to be dealt with on a day to day basis.

The DH though, is a no-brainer man when it comes me being depressed or just feeling low, he has to come up with stupid ideas on what can be done to make me feel better, or do a root cause analysis, which absolutely drives me up the wall, but I have to forgive him for being a male at some points atleast, right? But over all, he is a great guy, and quite a joy to live with too, believes himself to be a family man, and does his bit for the family and home. And I think that makes him more of a man than those who shirk away. And yes,I do think I got lucky, because this guy..................(huge theatrical pause).................... he even cleans up after he cooks. So what do you say to that?

If

I am not a poem person. I do my kiddish rhyming ones, once in a while, but that is about it. Reading poems never interested me, even now they don't. But there are a few, and I mean a very few that have remained with me from the time I was in school. I owe it to my amazing teachers, for making those poems come alive to me. For making me understand what they really mean. Of all the poems I have ever read, if I had to pick, just one, it would undoubtedly be If by Rudyard Kipling. I simply love this poem. It was written by the poet for his son, as guidelines for leading a worthy life, and I don't think the advice can get any better than this.

I can harp on about every word in that poem, and because it speaks to me a lot better now, that I am all grown up, than it did when I was in school. And I love it some more for that now. Every word makes sense, and teaches so much. If we could be half of what this poem inspires in us, we would be some of the most wonderful people in this world. The words in this poem can be put to use in an context, absolutely any. From work place issues, to in-law issues the advice holds true everywhere. That I think is because this poem is for the core person that we need to be, and not about anything else. It is really difficult for me to express in words just how much I love this poem.

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;

Are the lines that have been running in my mind, since yesterday. The meaning suddenly became crystal clear to me. It is about having faith in yourself, without being conceited is it not? Often enough, we get so sure of ourselves, that we ignore anyone, who does not believe in us. We need to remain grounded, and humble, no matter how much we succeed, how high we climb. It is a very difficult to task to achieve this combination, but it is indeed the perfect one too. In a different context, if we apply this to religious tolerance, does it not work perfectly too? We may be completely devoted to our own religion, but that should not breed intolerance for others, who do not.

It is not an easy task, to be confident about your own self, and still be open to contradictions by others. And yet, I think the really successful and great people, never belittle the doubts and contradictions of others, do they? I wish I could achieve this trait, wholly and completely, from within, where I am as open to other's doubts over me, as I am sure of myself.

So, what is your favourite poem, and what do you take away from it?

Don't Come Asking For My Wedding Album

because I don't have one. No, I did not lose it, nor was it destroyed, it just never came into existence. Since there was nothing to make one with. Yes, there is not one single photo of the day I got married. Not one. One of the biggest regrets of my life? Yes, it is. I don't know how I looked, I have nothing to show to my kids or my grandchildren. I have no wedding pics.

It kills me each time I think of it, it really does, but what can I do, except regret. Could not exactly force people to click a photo of me could I? It is a one time thing, atleast for me. I know I will never marry again, and this is said to be one of the biggest days in a person's life is it not? There was no wedding finery involved, just a plain cotton churidar-kurta, some junk jewellery and a bindi in place I think. And yet, it was my wedding day after all. I don't have a single photograph of myself from that day, not one single one.

My wedding itself is a long filmy story, one I think of with regret, awe, a sense of adventure at different times, but whatever it was, I have no memories to revisit, except the ones in my mind. And none that I can ever share. Honestly I don't have any idea how I looked on that day, and I would never ever know. The DH is not the kind of poetic man, who would describe me eloquently, I doubt he even remembers for that matter. I want it, I want photos, I want to see it, to feel the day, to revive the memories, but it is not for me to have I guess. I cannot fight against everything you know, and sometimes I just have to suck it up, and move on.

Another bigger regret in my life is not celebrating the BB's first birthday in the biggest way possible. He deserves it, and I wanted it. To be honest, post marriage there has not been a single big celebration in my life, except for the party my parents threw, when we visited them early this year. that was the first party the BB had. The first birthday had a cake, and some oily disgusting food ordered from out, for the adults, the birthday boy himself had nothing special. An elderly relative decided to settle himself in our home, on the pretext of a bad back for an entire fortnight, and made sure no celebrations take place. His only plans for the birthday celebrations were drinks for himself. I don't want to go into details, which will just make me seethe. Nothing was done, except for a cake cutting, and the photos are of me sweating like a sow, in a completely worn out disgusting T-shirt, and the BB dressed up in some nice clothes cutting his cake. We did not go out for a meal, pretty much did nothing. The DH, claims it does not matter, because the BB was way too young to understand or even enjoy. He has to, it was his relative after all. Even if I agree, it matters to me, I remember, and what do I show the BB when he grows up as his birthday celebrations? His first birthday was very very special to me, and I hate the fact that it was nothing but like any other wimpy day, with a measly cake cutting to show for it.

The lack of celebrations for the BB's first birthday is a bigger regret for me, than the absence of my wedding photos, because the wedding photos were not under my control, the birthday celebrations were, and I did nothing. I blame myself totally for it, I don't think I will ever forgive myself on that count. Keeping the million excuses, and that horrible relative aside, I am still at fault. Can we ever turn time back?

I will publish this now, before I lose the nerve, and put it up. I am in a totally frustrated state of mind, which brings up all old regrets, so please excuse the errors in this post.

And When I Had Forgotten About Power-Cuts

Yesterday, we had two and half hours of power cut. The first time in the last one and half years I have been here. The entire city got phases of power cuts, and the reason was either maintenance or setting up of the light decor for Ramadan. Whatever the reason, it was quite a surprise when off when the power late afternoon, and I realised how ill-prepared I am, to actually face a power cut. I don't have anything but a couple of birthday candles, not even a torch, an emergency light is just too much to expect. How easy it is to get used to comforts. It has not even been two years since I left the land, where we were doomed to over six hours of daily power cuts and were forever prepared. Almost ever home had an inverter and there were powerful torches on the ready if we needed to step out post dark during the power cuts. And here, I have nothing, literally nothing to even combat the darkness if needed.

Also missed out on my post lunch quota of peaceful net surfing, and with no TV either, I realised how much I take these things for granted now. Spent the time lulling around. Tried to sleep for a bit, but the BB was in no mood for the same. Called up or messaged almost everyone I could, to tell them we were having a power cut. People expressed concern, and it felt strange, because I was just excited about having a power cut, where I have never faced any. Also reminded me of the times when we used to have power cuts, without inverters or emergency lamps, but just the candles, family and friends to pass the hours, till the power was restored. How have power cuts now become a norm instead of an exception in India now? Is that progressing or regressing?