Identity

Identity crisis

By R. Lakshminarayan

Prologue

My name is R. Lakshminarayan. R doesn’t “stand” for anything; it is the abbreviation of my father’s good name. I forbid any kindergarten kid to use my name as a reference to learn the alphabetical sequence (as in “A for apple, B for bat… R for R.Lakshminarayan). For starters, the name is derived from the symbiosis of lord Vishnu and his wife goddess Lakshmi. For the past 20 years, the name has been broken up, mutilated (sometimes by me too), and used as a reference to a particular billionaire. This is a story of my name and my existence.

The name

I was registered in my school as R. Lakshmi Narayan. Most of you may not have noticed the “gap” between Lakshmi and Narayan. But in kindergarten, the gap made all the difference. I was referred as Laxmi, Lacchmi, Laccho, Laccho darling, Chameli ??!!(I wonder where that came from). As a child I did not like being referred as a female, not that I am a male- chauvinist, but I was sure about my gender.

To counter all these attacks on my gender “security” I decided to keep names for my fellow mates. As it turned out they were offended and kid’s parents focused their PTA meeting time to discuss my misbehavior.

Teacher: Mrs. Singh, your son is failing in a few subjects. This is really bad for his…

Mrs. Singh: (interrupting) Madam, We (“we” refers to herself and her husband, who is, by the way, busy looking at embodiments of the opposite sex and gaping with awe) heard that some fellow named “Chameli ka bageecha” refers to my son Jagannath as “Jaggi”. This is outrageous! Please tell his parents that we cannot tolerate such misbehavior on his part. This is outrageous… blah blah… blah blah… na… haan… huun haan.(husband still gaping with awe at other objects of his affection)

Teacher: (With a grave expression) this is serious Mrs. Singh. I will talk to his parents. Your son is such a bright kid.

End of discussion. The child is not reprimanded for his poor grades and also earns the teachers sympathy. When my turn comes, I get reprimanded for both.

Also, Mrs. Singh earns the right to call me names (she was innovative enough to add bageecha and turn me into a garden) and yet a simple and efficient modification to her son’s name earns me her wrath. Sooner or later she is going to call her son “Jaggi” instead of Jagannath. Reason? ->No one has time for long names. Chinese and Japanese realized this without delay. If you notice, no Chinese name would span over 3 characters. They simply don’t have time. They would Yin, Yan and do an occasional Chan before the world comes to an end.

Later, I devised a new escape route by deciding to divert everybody’s attention to the second half of my “broken” name. It just led to a new series of names. Now, I was Nari, Nidri, Nariyal (English translation- coconut). No, my head doesn’t look like a coconut; neither do I have three eyes covered shabbily with husk.

Fortunately, one particular derivative of my name (“Nada”) was less offending and I decided to adopt it. Thank you buggers for coining such a wonderfully convenient name. I am Nada... and I shall have my revenge