Sunday, February 15, 2009
My name is
...Anthony Gonsalves. Oh, how i wish to say that! The whole idea of hatching out of a huge egg and entertaining people with nonsense always enchanted me. It still does. In those days i had a major crush on Amitabh Bachchan, so the idea about stepping into his big, black shoes had huge appeal.
Thanks to Jhumpa didi, you all know very well by now, we bangalis have two names, the bhalo naam or the good name and the pet name. I have these, and I have many others as well, which are not as entertaining as Anthony Gonsalves is, but manage to flood my mind wih sweet memories. I love each of those who cared to coin a special name for me. These sweet, li'l gestures make one feel ssooo loved and blessed. I write in memory of their love:
I hear, the night before i was born, my mamu dreamt of a dark, little, exuberant girl embracing him. His poetic mind sensed that a neice was on her way, and he decided to call her Shyamolima.
I have preserved some of my old registers from KG and Class I, and I see that my little child self had huge problems spelling Shyamolima Ghosh Choudhury. My BigB, who often claims (especially after watching Taare Zameen Par that he must have been a borderline case of dyslexia in childhood wrote on our joint possession, a English-to-Bengali dictionary, 'belongs to "tanu and bonu"'. On the facing page, he wrote, "Rajorshi and sister's". Who dare spell that complicated name of sister? ha ha! Or may be his inflated self just thought my only identity lay in being his sister. Never mind. I love the idea.
Many people I interact with on a daily basis have problems spelling and pronuncing my name. I don't have any problem with that though. I m just too much in love with my name. besides it's aesthetic appeal, it makes for a good conversation starter - the meaning of my name. One of the self-help columns in TOI said asking "what is the meaning of your name?" is one of the most ghisa pita ways in which men try to get intimate. The columnist suggested these men are to be avoided at any cost. But, never mind. I don't buy the theories of self-help columns. My name has helped me know more interesting people than the formulae TOI offers. I seriously believe these are churned by people who haven't managed to find a single date in life, and merely kill time by offering unsolicited advice. Not that I have managed to go on dates myself. But ahem, ... let that topic be.
Some of my other favourites...
Mitthu miyan- beautiful parrot. How i wished i could be as beautiful as her! when everyone would look at me wth apppreciative glances and feel jealous. Alas!
Bhonu which is a corrupt sylheti version of bonu/bon or sister.
Puchki is my all time favourite name. But Big B no longer uses that for me :'( May be I have assumed too gigantic proportions for that.
I am my baba's Shonenedro kumari mohun. Aaah! I love that name, and I love baba for it. One of the many extemporaneous rhymes that he composes every now and then is like this:
"shonenburi haal dhoreche
chou dike te pal
Oi nouka chore dada
Bou aanbe kal."
Translated to english it stands thus:
"Shonenburi will row the boat.
In four directions, sails float.
The boat dada would ride
tomorrow. And get his bride"
(sorry for the abysmal translation!).
Well, i don't know whether or not dada is going to let me row, but it does seem like we would have to cross a few rivers. What say dada ;) ?
Baba's enormous faith in me astonishes me till date. No surprise that I picked up this elephantine sense of responsiblity and consquent nose-pokeyness early in life.
"Kalindi" is what my ma called me when i was a kid. The complicated being I was, i thought she was making fun of my dark skin, and i really resented the name. i don't understand whether or not to believe Freud on Electra complex, but i did manage to convince my mother with my nakhras that i feel hurt whenever she called me that. My original pet name, "Mithai", which was discarded for fear of teasing by roadside romeos, was revived. I have always loved being told that I am a sweet person. Hence the new name suited my narcissistic self just fine.Things change over the years, and now I am the last person on earth to be bothered by skin colour or beauty. Ma lovingly addresses me as kalindi once in a while. I hugely enjoy it. Isn't is so much better than "lakkhi meye", the one who stands for purity and fertility? I love Kali, the fact that she is free from false consciousness. And Kali, the art of Filipino stick and knife fighting is even better. But, hello, i am no sadhu sanyassin. I would luuuuv the riches that come with lakshmi :)
Maina is what my aunt called me. mainahs are not popular birds in the northeast. there are very few of them. So, i never got to know that these are charcoal black creatures! Wasn't angry with her on that. But in retrospect, it seems like that name was my first initiation into the 'talking profession' that I eventually took up. Miss you, Titi.
"Mithu"- to have a mouth like a mithu/ parrot means to praise oneself shamelessly which I am doing currently. So, no further explanation on this.
"Mithun" is one of my favourite actors, and i love sharing a name with him.
"shyamo/shyama/linda/shymolima/shymolinda" are names used by my college and university friends. I love the unique ways in which each one pronunces these ;)
"Shy"- very few people call me so. But i think, it captures the essence of my 'personality'. hence, a personal favourite.
"Shalu" is what a school friend called me. It always evoked images of vamps wearing skimpy clothes, brown wigs and layers of makeup! Although the name is somewhat funny in my opinion, the memories of the good old school days with my friend are cherished :)
When an adolescent, I would imagine that my lovers would call me "Preeti/Priya". Aha, how romantic! Now whether these lovers actually existed is better guessed at ;) The names, however, have lost their appeal. Too 'feminine' and 'loud' for my liking.
Very recent additions in the list of names are "EMbryo/Ms. Tuby/Li'l Moron". These are tributes to my intelligence, and I take them as a compliment :)
Another name, "Green Grin", has been coined by one who churns out nonsense all the time. No comments.
Enough about my names. The list is inexhaustible. So, are my comments. I hope nobody calls me a ">Chatterbox"now!
Thanks to Jhumpa didi, you all know very well by now, we bangalis have two names, the bhalo naam or the good name and the pet name. I have these, and I have many others as well, which are not as entertaining as Anthony Gonsalves is, but manage to flood my mind wih sweet memories. I love each of those who cared to coin a special name for me. These sweet, li'l gestures make one feel ssooo loved and blessed. I write in memory of their love:
I hear, the night before i was born, my mamu dreamt of a dark, little, exuberant girl embracing him. His poetic mind sensed that a neice was on her way, and he decided to call her Shyamolima.
I have preserved some of my old registers from KG and Class I, and I see that my little child self had huge problems spelling Shyamolima Ghosh Choudhury. My BigB, who often claims (especially after watching Taare Zameen Par that he must have been a borderline case of dyslexia in childhood wrote on our joint possession, a English-to-Bengali dictionary, 'belongs to "tanu and bonu"'. On the facing page, he wrote, "Rajorshi and sister's". Who dare spell that complicated name of sister? ha ha! Or may be his inflated self just thought my only identity lay in being his sister. Never mind. I love the idea.
Many people I interact with on a daily basis have problems spelling and pronuncing my name. I don't have any problem with that though. I m just too much in love with my name. besides it's aesthetic appeal, it makes for a good conversation starter - the meaning of my name. One of the self-help columns in TOI said asking "what is the meaning of your name?" is one of the most ghisa pita ways in which men try to get intimate. The columnist suggested these men are to be avoided at any cost. But, never mind. I don't buy the theories of self-help columns. My name has helped me know more interesting people than the formulae TOI offers. I seriously believe these are churned by people who haven't managed to find a single date in life, and merely kill time by offering unsolicited advice. Not that I have managed to go on dates myself. But ahem, ... let that topic be.
Some of my other favourites...
Mitthu miyan- beautiful parrot. How i wished i could be as beautiful as her! when everyone would look at me wth apppreciative glances and feel jealous. Alas!
Bhonu which is a corrupt sylheti version of bonu/bon or sister.
Puchki is my all time favourite name. But Big B no longer uses that for me :'( May be I have assumed too gigantic proportions for that.
I am my baba's Shonenedro kumari mohun. Aaah! I love that name, and I love baba for it. One of the many extemporaneous rhymes that he composes every now and then is like this:
"shonenburi haal dhoreche
chou dike te pal
Oi nouka chore dada
Bou aanbe kal."
Translated to english it stands thus:
"Shonenburi will row the boat.
In four directions, sails float.
The boat dada would ride
tomorrow. And get his bride"
(sorry for the abysmal translation!).
Well, i don't know whether or not dada is going to let me row, but it does seem like we would have to cross a few rivers. What say dada ;) ?
Baba's enormous faith in me astonishes me till date. No surprise that I picked up this elephantine sense of responsiblity and consquent nose-pokeyness early in life.
"Kalindi" is what my ma called me when i was a kid. The complicated being I was, i thought she was making fun of my dark skin, and i really resented the name. i don't understand whether or not to believe Freud on Electra complex, but i did manage to convince my mother with my nakhras that i feel hurt whenever she called me that. My original pet name, "Mithai", which was discarded for fear of teasing by roadside romeos, was revived. I have always loved being told that I am a sweet person. Hence the new name suited my narcissistic self just fine.Things change over the years, and now I am the last person on earth to be bothered by skin colour or beauty. Ma lovingly addresses me as kalindi once in a while. I hugely enjoy it. Isn't is so much better than "lakkhi meye", the one who stands for purity and fertility? I love Kali, the fact that she is free from false consciousness. And Kali, the art of Filipino stick and knife fighting is even better. But, hello, i am no sadhu sanyassin. I would luuuuv the riches that come with lakshmi :)
Maina is what my aunt called me. mainahs are not popular birds in the northeast. there are very few of them. So, i never got to know that these are charcoal black creatures! Wasn't angry with her on that. But in retrospect, it seems like that name was my first initiation into the 'talking profession' that I eventually took up. Miss you, Titi.
"Mithu"- to have a mouth like a mithu/ parrot means to praise oneself shamelessly which I am doing currently. So, no further explanation on this.
"Mithun" is one of my favourite actors, and i love sharing a name with him.
"shyamo/shyama/linda/shymolima/shymolinda" are names used by my college and university friends. I love the unique ways in which each one pronunces these ;)
"Shy"- very few people call me so. But i think, it captures the essence of my 'personality'. hence, a personal favourite.
"Shalu" is what a school friend called me. It always evoked images of vamps wearing skimpy clothes, brown wigs and layers of makeup! Although the name is somewhat funny in my opinion, the memories of the good old school days with my friend are cherished :)
When an adolescent, I would imagine that my lovers would call me "Preeti/Priya". Aha, how romantic! Now whether these lovers actually existed is better guessed at ;) The names, however, have lost their appeal. Too 'feminine' and 'loud' for my liking.
Very recent additions in the list of names are "EMbryo/Ms. Tuby/Li'l Moron". These are tributes to my intelligence, and I take them as a compliment :)
Another name, "Green Grin", has been coined by one who churns out nonsense all the time. No comments.
Enough about my names. The list is inexhaustible. So, are my comments. I hope nobody calls me a ">Chatterbox"now!
Tujhse naraaz Nahin Zindagi Hairaan Hu main!!
It has not been a very good day today. Got a shocking news early in the morning. From who else but our new maid? The little children living in the house opposite ours lost their parents to the killer Delhi blue lines early Sunday morning. I have been noticing strange people in their home since a few days, but little did i realize they have come to mourn death!
It seems the whole mohulla knows about it. I wonder what we were doing!? I, and we, as a family, have always taken pride in the fact that we come from a small town where the whole community is actually like a family and any news, good or bad, spreads like fire ; where people lend a helping hand even to strangers. Today's incident just surprised me out of my complacency. Living just next doors I, we, didn't get an inkling about the tragedy, nor did we help them. Now, i really dislike "tch, tch" and the mechanical "sorry to hear that", but I wish I could do something.
Strange are the ways of the city. We never spoke in the three years that we lived together, and we even pretended not to look at each other, but I would really miss the sight of the busy mom shining her kids' shoes before the school van arrived, would miss her bargaining with the rerhiwallahs, would miss the whisperous giggle on her face when she spotted me talking to pigeons; would miss the preoccupied businessman drying his undies in the balcony early in the morning (the only time he was visible!).
Life is so cruel to people at times. I don't know if I am angry at the God to whom these people had gone to offer puja when they died, I don't know what is going to become of these children, I don't know if I am feeling anxious about becoming like one of the indifferent city-people whom I dislike. I am confused at the moment :(
It seems the whole mohulla knows about it. I wonder what we were doing!? I, and we, as a family, have always taken pride in the fact that we come from a small town where the whole community is actually like a family and any news, good or bad, spreads like fire ; where people lend a helping hand even to strangers. Today's incident just surprised me out of my complacency. Living just next doors I, we, didn't get an inkling about the tragedy, nor did we help them. Now, i really dislike "tch, tch" and the mechanical "sorry to hear that", but I wish I could do something.
Strange are the ways of the city. We never spoke in the three years that we lived together, and we even pretended not to look at each other, but I would really miss the sight of the busy mom shining her kids' shoes before the school van arrived, would miss her bargaining with the rerhiwallahs, would miss the whisperous giggle on her face when she spotted me talking to pigeons; would miss the preoccupied businessman drying his undies in the balcony early in the morning (the only time he was visible!).
Life is so cruel to people at times. I don't know if I am angry at the God to whom these people had gone to offer puja when they died, I don't know what is going to become of these children, I don't know if I am feeling anxious about becoming like one of the indifferent city-people whom I dislike. I am confused at the moment :(
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