What’s In a Name?

Truthfully, a lot is in a name. Some names become synonyms for the ideals the person has lived or died for, like Radha, or Romeo. Some are representations of where we come from. Some are assertions of identity. There is a lot that is carried in a few syllables that roll off our tongue, that sits written on our birth certificates. 

Growing up, while I did watch a lot of desi media and literature, I was also exposed to Enid Blyton, Disney movies, and a bunch of Western cartoons. There was a point in time where I wanted my name to be something English, something ‘cool’ like Anna or something out of a Barbie movie. Boy, am I relieved it was just a phase (a short one at that!). My parents made sure to tell me about my name and the meaning it holds, the culture it carries when it is spoken. But for a moment, I want to go back and think – what if my name wasn’t my name? What if it was Anna?

Names, in my culture, hold power, influence, personality, and Anna would be a person very different from me. 

For starters, I don’t think Anna would be as much of a history or culture buff. She’d be a reader more than a writer, favoring a very specific and niche genre. I think she’d love saris, but only the ones that are subtly glittery and catch the lights. I can see her with strikingly straight, silky hair, maybe dyed, maybe not, and a lip combo for every situation. And of course, she would be an artist, honing her skill and very proud of all that she taught herself.  The point is, Anna would be a completely different person. She would probably be more un-traditional, have a set of talents completely hers and hers alone. I cling to my Kurti collection and cotton saris with a vice-like grip, but Anna would be more casual, laid back in her flared jeans, her sequin dresses and tops. She’d work out often, but balance it out with fried momos, noodles and whatnot. 

Hell, she probably wouldn’t even go here.  I can see her in the city, a city like Bengaluru, traipsing down Church Street, ignoring the photographers and influencers in favour of a good time. Or perhaps in Cubbon Park, laughing a little too loud and caring very little for the glares that come her way. She’d love being in places with people around, a culture that moved and hustled and shone in the golden warmth and indifference of the metropolis. In any case, Anna would be Anna. She’d be an amalgamation of ten year old me’s dreams of the urban combined with my roots that are undeniably and recognisably still Indian. 

The question is also would I want to be Anna. And with everything that I know of the world and its ways, I don’t think I would (no shade to her though). The soft power of the West does not sway me as hard as it did when I was a child; when I was belting my heart out to Let Me Love You by Justin Bieber, watching Disney XD and flipping through Archie comics, wishing for Veronica’s lifestyle. And even if it did change, even if the soft power peaks again, I think I would appreciate it more than obsess over it. I’ve sat in my own skin long enough that I have come to love it, to love myself despite the weekly crashout and the bi-weekly dissociation. That is who I am, at the end of the day – I love writing, I’m bad at art, love my jeans and kurtis, and hate the city. I’m a ton of different things; I steal onion rings from my friends and make astonishingly bad jokes to distract them from breaking down. And I don’t think I would be that if I was Anna. Not a bad thing, but Anna will be Anna. Aalia will be Aalia. 

And that’s what’s in a name.

P.S: If you’re an Anna reading this, I mean no offence. I think you’d be super cool and fun and we would definitely be friends. I’m rooting for you, twin!

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