That Is Pronounced As Uh-Bhee-Jeet

Then my aunt had a baby when I was 4 years old. I became “Rana-da”. When he was a little older, my cousin protested and said that I had no right to be addressed as “Dada” (literally meaning elder brother in Bengali) since I was ONLY four years older to him. There had to be at least a five year difference to qualify as Dada. He had a history of making up arbitrary rules like this. He did it when we played cricket. Insubordination had to be quelled. So I walked off to protest before my uncles and aunts who interrupted their adda session briefly to rule in my favour. I came back and announced the verdict to him. He made a face but succumbed to collective authority. The other day I picked up the phone to hear a heavily accented, “Happy New Year Rana-da.” And I knew it was him because only he refers to me that way.

The day I went to school, I got the right to use my family name. The clerk in the school’s office handed me a piece of paper that said “Abhijit Bhaduri”. I liked the name Abhijit a lot more than Rana which always made me feel like a kid who was not old enough to go to school.

I was almost five years old and I preferred to be called “Abhijit”. That name had a lot more gravitas. Change must begin at home. I wanted to tick the easy targets first – eg my Granny. With her victory was certain.

“From today, do NOT call me Rana. Call me Abhijit. Will you remember?” I asked. I knew she would say yes and I walked off.

I was wrong. She patted my head indulgently and said, “Of course I will remember that Rana.”

There was no point expecting my aunts and uncles to respect my wishes if grandma did not set the tone.So in the most inappropriate places “Rana” would surface much to the embarrassment of Abhijit.

My parents would continue to use my nick name “Rana” before my school friends and teachers during the Parent Teacher meetings. The teacher would keep talking about the routine “Abhijit” must follow so that his marks show improvement. My Dad would nod in agreement and tell the teacher, “Rana needs to pull up his socks.” Occasionally I would bleat in protest and whisper, “Don’t call me Rana in school, please. My friends will tease me.” Why do you think the rights of the child continue to be ignored even today?

Then my kid sister arrived when I was eight years old. Even by my cousin’s yardstick I was now entitled to be called “Dada”. I made sure that my kid sister did not have a choice in that matter. So from day one I would whisper into the baby’s ear, “You know me, don’t you? I am your Dada.” She would make faces and whimper. It was happy day for me when she finally managed to call me Dada on her own.

As a teenager I used to hang out with my friends from the Railway Colony who would call me “Abhi”. Those were the heady days of youth. One day when a girl looked at me and said, “That’s a lovely name, but may I call you ‘Jit’?” I stuttered and nodded my approval. It is not easy to disagree when you are in love. I changed my identity to please her.

Till date she is the only person who ever called me Jit.

In college, one day, I discovered that my name had been changed to “Abbey”. That name continued through my days at Delhi University and later at XLRI as I pursued my Masters. Their emails always begin with a “Hi Abbey!”

Some names have faded away. When my parents died, there are very few people left who call me “Rana”. Rana is the sound of my childhood. It is linked to my role. My role as a son is over. Others roles have taken over my identity.

At work for a brief period I became “Mr. Bhaduri” before I reverted back to being Abhijit. When emails happened in the organisation where I was working, I discovered there were four more Abhijits tucked away in various parts of the world.

I became Abhijit4@whats-the-name.com

My identity is still evolving. When I traveled abroad for the first time I got used to introducing myself followed by a quick tutorial on the pronunciation.

“That is pronounced as Uh-Bhee-Jeet.”

With each new role of my life or country that I travel to, my new name marks the beginning of a new relationship.

The day after I got married, my wife smiled and said, “I am going to call you Hubby-Jit.” That name continues. I have given up protesting.