From: Veeramany.Sthanumurthy@lambada.oit.unc.edu (Veeramany Sthanumurthy)
Newsgroups: soc.culture.indian
Subject: What's in a name: Embarrassment or Riches (Long)
Date: 22 Jan 93 17:56:38 GMT
Organization: UTexas Mail-to-News Gateway
NNTP-Posting-Host: cs.utexas.edu

[A note concerning style: Living in times which tend to look down
upon specific and general notions of correctness, I am sure to
tread on a number of toes. Some of the pronouns which appear below 
such as our, we, us, you, them, they involve presumptions for 
which I beg the reader's indulgence. Their interpretation will 
vary with context, including the reader's (assumed or anointed) 
gender. As for my perfidious perceptions of history I have nothing
to blame except my pSecularist leanings. Lastly, I avoid personal
references except to those in the public domain, to protect my
correspondents from notoriety. My apologies to PB for any copyright
violations. - Sthan]

The bard from Avon probably didn't reflect as long on this topic 
as his alleged admirers. Hence, his profundity languishes as a 
cliche. Whether NS Raja's anthem to Ajay Palvayanteeswaran would 
have been as poignant if it involved a chrysanthemum or a hibiscus, 
is a different issue. With that invocation, I believe the stage has 
been, nominally, set.

India, as is often asserted on this forum and elsewhere, is more 
than the mere modern notion of a nation-state. Some of the earliest 
indicators of this are in the Vedas, the pastoral hymns invoked 
from time immemorial (often quite literally) confusing a speeding 
world without regard for epithets with being a pastor's hymns. 
Being quite unreceptive to ancient wisdom, I prefer to offer more 
recent evidence. That ostensibly good reason I hasten to add, is 
no more true than the more pragmatic one: my utter ignorance of all 
things holy, be it the Tora, the Bible, Quran or the Vedas, not 
necessarily in any particular order.

Just the other day, a correspondent offered this gem from our 
yesteryears or, as some spurious constructions have it "Wonder
Years." The reference is to the unflattering parental prediction 
"You are (going to grow up) only fit to herd cows." (rendered in 
unchaste Tamil: "nee maadu maykkat taan daa laayakku.") Unlike the 
English nominative you, the Tamil rendering has an explicit gender
distinction besides other dis'sing qualifiers. Our counterparts on 
the other side of the gender divide clearly don't share our propensity 
to engage in activities involving items I was chastised for slinging, 
namely mud, at least not with so much vigor anyway. While reformers
may see other social messages in this taunt, all I can see is 
common sense.

The cattle metaphors insinuated themselves into everyday speech quite 
innocuously, not unlike suburban cattle. On being caught in some 
silly prank red-handed, "looks like a goat-thief" (T: "aadu tirudina 
kaLLan maadiri muzhikkiradap paaru!") The unfortunate soul has yet to 
cross my path, with or without the hapless goat. On being late for 
meals one heard: "enna avittu vitta maadu madiri tirinjundirukkaai?" 
(Why are you roaming like an untethered cow?) This is as close to 
reality as the metaphors got. Usually, the climax was reached with one 
involving a wet buffalo. Apparently, these creatures are quite 
notorious for their thick hide. So, the forebear often ended the 
shower of words with "What's the point in all this? This is all 
like raindrops off a buffalo's back, anyway." The national integration 
theme which I was talking about comes in the form of another saying, 
though. A friend from Punjab (how I wish it was Kashmir) used "kyon 
tumhara ak(a)l gaas chharne gaya?" (Why, your brain had gone grazing 
grass? - Tamil omitted.) The childish thrill of engaging in a 
cheap shot with such obvious provocation was, well, eschewed.

What does all this have to do with a name, you ask. For one thing, 
it puts to shame the quality of name-calling we see these days, with 
such factual terms such as IITian, Southie being considered slurs. 
Madrasi is all mixed up, aimed at the Tamils apparently, but actually 
others in the south (South of where?) get caught in the crossfire.
For another, it points to the lap of luxury which we SCIers live in,
at least when it comes to names at the drop of, well, a key. Not 
being blessed with the luxury of getting a list of names (baby or 
grown-up) on demand, my parents would have had to employ their 
imagination to tackle this Herculean task. Talking of Hercules, I 
must digress, to reveal this trivium I picked up the other day. Has 
anyone ever heard of those famous philosophers as having anything 
more than one name? See: Socrates, Aristotle, Pythagoras (at times 
some appended Samos) and the cleanest of them all, Archimedes.
Of course, I should not forget Aryabhatta, Panini and others whom 
I forget anyway, though not having reached the stage in multiculturalism
when such references are casually acceptable, this has to be so.
I am informed, however, that in the aristocratic fold which they 
mooed in, they did introduce themselves with some father-figure 
appearing at the end, towed by a preposition.

I was talking about the task of naming children. I shudder to think
of the results if my parents had used their imagination as reflected
in the phrases quoted above. Fortunately(!) for me, tradition, though at
times a very unpragmatic master exercising a stranglehold on us mere
mortals, in the form of my grandfather's name stepped in. A very 
curious sequence of events was set in motion, resulting in this piece 
of fiction before you. I hope it is clear how I ended up with a 
combination of names neither one of which is very common in any part 
of the world I have had the good/mis-fortune to live. A name (or two) 
decides whether the ice is broken or one merely smiles. With no time 
to stand and stare, breaking the silence is the key to advancing - to 
the dance floor or to the empty seat at the counter. Of course, a 
unique name is as much an asset as a liability. It all depends upon 
the perspective and the prospect before you, of course.

In the course of my halcyon years, I have had quite a few memorable 
first experiences, usually beginning with my name. Not too many 
teachers paid too much attention to my intricately spelled name, a 
spelling which has evolved over time. The results varied depending 
upon my mental acuity, the violence of the disagreement between the 
written and the spoken. I managed somehow. Later on, due to nomenclature
clashes of the first, middle and the last kinds in which I had a vacant
middle, the changes involved the other part. Somehow, the sequence "Sth"
seemed to hold unseen terrors for many, more so north of the A/D line. Some
chose to ignore the lack of vowel relief and blithely inserted one - my 
first on-hands experience with the application of pattern recognition 
skills. My failure to reinforce such behaviour with "Present" or 
some similar utterance had mixed results. It was sometimes interpreted 
as a sign of absence - leading to my mastery of the art of forgery; at 
other times, as an indicator that sleep had overcome me. This lofted 
me to new heights in my young life. The only other instance I had 
scaled similar heights, I was in solid company. The entire ninth 
standard class had failed to memorize Keats' paean to some songbird. 
Unflappable with wings of poesy we soared over the memorable bench.
Thereafter, I went on to respond to such subtle, however, by all means
substantial mutations involving truth such as Sathyamurthy and
Santhanamurthy. The fact that I have never encountered the latter
composition, though amusing, offered me little comfort at the time.

When the time was at hand to cross the seven seas, I had pretty much
encountered every possible hurdle, especially after the much-feared 
and FAQ'ed four-lettered one, or so I thought. My first meeting
involved financial aid matters, since I had arrived late. A senior bird, 
though very aware of my state of affairs, having occupied the same
quarters a couple of years earlier, nevertheless stood by as one
onslaught followed another. Almost every possible variation was
offered, save the intended one. Still, I barely blinked. In fact, I 
reacted in identical fashion upon being accosted with Stan Murphy on 
one occasion. I was blissfully unaware of this development for a 
few weeks till the same senior bird brought this fact to my attention,
casually inquiring with a smirk if I had heard the about the latest
site-directed recombination. Hence my stubborn inclusion of the "h"
in my insignia, despite widespread efforts at denigrating such
usage as a "linguistic flailing" or even a failing.

From time to time, I have wondered about the my father's decision to
saddle me with this name. The perceptive reader would have figured
by now that our names are identical except for a flip-flop. He was 
very well aware of the possibilities his name offered. His pragmatism
led him to drop the very portion of his name which I am bandying 
about as my signature. Anyway, after a couple of decades of confusion,
I thought I had managed to settle on a simple nomenclature. But, little
did I realize what fate had in store for me.

I have to explain another curious trait among some of us Tamils. It is 
the rare bird among my siblings and cousins galore that is not blessed 
with a name other than the one(s) which appear on the numerous official 
documents one accumulates in the course of a normal productive life not 
involving substantial preoccupation with cattle. I was perfectly aware 
of the complications inherent in this. While in school, I was often 
confronted by a puzzled classmate who claimed to have visited my 
neighbourhood looking for me, only to be turned away with blank stares
greeting my official address. Being 9876 (or so) miles away from home, I was 
beginning to breathe easier. Life was quite normal or at least what 
passes for it. Barring the occasional frantic call wondering about 
my whereabouts letting the cat out of the bag, I had little self-
referential confusion.

The predictable sequence of a desi male in the alien land followed. 
Marital bliss was looming large in the horizon. Breach of tradition
was limited to some minor horoscopoclastic ways. My partner-to-be was
blessed with a similar abundance of official syllables performing
the vanishing trick when it came to the so-called alias. Her family
may be considered an extreme example of the confusion which can result
from the practice I have outlined. Hers was a Pandava-like family
as it came to number of girls. Each was blessed with two different names, 
one bearing absolutely no relation whatever to the other except perhaps 
by accident. The confusion is heightened by the father's calling out the 
elder daughter's alias (to request her presence) at the very moment the 
priest was asking him for the official name of the youngest-born. The 
various tales which result from this confusion, especially as it concerns 
phone calls are too numerous to recount here.

Having broken with tradition in some ways, one attempts to give up
in others. The wedding invitation was one of them. They were discussed
and responsibility was left with the elders, with a general understanding 
of course, but devoid of specific details. They arrived, decked with 
all sorts of symbols oriented in ways designed to confuse, some usurped 
by aliens, others invoking one of the few non-human appearing deities 
in the pantheon. They had the usual abbreviations involving all kinds 
of presumptuous bestowing of fortune and length of life. Last but not 
the least, on the outside envelope, quite innocuous at first glance, 
lay the crowning glory. Two names which nobody who might possibly be 
in attendance was aware of, to be united in holy matrimony, no less. 
In addition to explaining all the various symbols in their clockwise or 
otherwise orientation, with such helpful people as lexicographers
masquerading as historians, I had occasion to reflect on the bard's
utterance again.

****

Not much has changed, even nominally. My friends still call me what they
did before, all kinds of names, a familiar situation.  A similar condition
prevails beyond the sexual divide. The problems are with the 
cross-fertilization aspect. My friends, use my wife's alias and hers use 
mine, to refer to us. For better or worse, I have decided to keep these 
from most of the SCIers, save one soul or maybe two, whom I let on in a weak
moment. And, that soul I am quite sure is not one to take matters of
netiquette  lightly. Besides the breach of protocol involved in revealing
email correspondence, the loss of prestige involved therein leaves me quite
confident.