<p>The Bard of Avon famously wrote these lines in his much-acclaimed play Romeo and Juliet — “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet!” Little did he realise the tribulations that parents of newborn babies undergo when they have to decide a name for their bundle of joy!</p>.<p>Today, finding the right name for the child is no child’s play. Several criteria have to be strictly considered. The name has to be two, or maximum three syllabled — anything beyond that is a big NO. This is done considering the long-term view — after all, the kid will grow up and obviously head abroad. Also, westerners will have a hard time pronouncing tongue-twister Indian names. So, it is better to keep it short and simple.<br />Next, the selected name has to be meaningful — should have a positive reference to the Indian pantheon of Gods, or to nature or natural beauty. You will not find any kid named Ravan or Kaikeyi or Duryodhana — lest he or she grows up to live up to the negative character that he is named after.</p>.<p>And to top it, the name has to be original — no other kid in your family or friends’ circle should be named such. In earlier days, naming a newborn was a simple task. If it were a boy, he would be named after the grandfather. The first-born male would take the paternal grandfather’s name while the younger one would take the maternal grandfather’s name. Likewise with girls, they would be named after their grandmothers. Invariably, every family had an umpteen number of Narayanas, Ramas or Lakshmis.</p>.<p>And each person would be identified and differentiated by some characteristic trait — their chronological age or skin colour or place of stay. In our family, we had three grand-children named Krishna — and so they were Dodda Krishna, Sanna Krishna and Chikka Krishna (big, thin and small based on age/size). Two cousins named Giri were identified as Bili Giri and Kari Giri (white / black based on their skin colour). Two Narayanas in the family were identified by their respective professions — one worked in a bank and hence was Banker Narayana. The other ran a bathroom fittings and sanitary store. His epithet became Sanitary Narayana!</p>.<p>Then came a time when babies were named after the famous and happening people from the world of movies or cricket. Many a girl was named Aishwarya or Sushmita when these two ladies won beauty pageants. And several cricket-loving families opted for Sachin, Rahul, Sunil or Sourav as a name for their male offspring.</p>.<p>When my friend, Sujatha recently delivered a baby girl, she was stressed over finding the right name for her little one. Every relative was offering suggestions. Her grandmother wanted to name the baby Ahladini — saying it was a meaningful name, another name for Goddess Saraswathi. She believed that the little one would grow up to be smart and well-read with the blessings of the Goddess of Wisdom whose name she would carry. My friend was aghast! She cried out in exasperation, “Ajji, please! She will not even be able to pronounce the name. Forget her, neither can I. It sounds like I am coughing when I call out that name. People will end up calling her Aha!”</p>.<p>Next, Sujatha’s uncle suggested that as she was born on the day of the bandh (strike), she be named Bandhini! My friend lamented that the name had a negative connotation. Prior to the baby’s birth, when they were not aware of the sex of the baby, the same uncle suggested an easy way to name the baby —combine the first two syllables of your and your husband’s names. So if it is a girl, name her Su+Ba = Suba. And if it is a boy, turn the syllables around — he can be Ba+Su = Basu! Sujatha was understandably upset.</p>.<p>Anyway, after an intense Google search and reading up the voluminous book of 10,000 Hindu names, she found a name that fulfilled all the naming criteria — it was short, unique and meaningful. She named her baby Manvi — which meant a girl with supreme qualities. My friend was thrilled and happy. But three months later, life threw a wet blanket over her much-researched and well-thought-out baby-naming exercise. A new family moved into Sujatha’s neighbouring apartment, and their two-year-old daughter was named Manvi!</p>
<p>The Bard of Avon famously wrote these lines in his much-acclaimed play Romeo and Juliet — “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet!” Little did he realise the tribulations that parents of newborn babies undergo when they have to decide a name for their bundle of joy!</p>.<p>Today, finding the right name for the child is no child’s play. Several criteria have to be strictly considered. The name has to be two, or maximum three syllabled — anything beyond that is a big NO. This is done considering the long-term view — after all, the kid will grow up and obviously head abroad. Also, westerners will have a hard time pronouncing tongue-twister Indian names. So, it is better to keep it short and simple.<br />Next, the selected name has to be meaningful — should have a positive reference to the Indian pantheon of Gods, or to nature or natural beauty. You will not find any kid named Ravan or Kaikeyi or Duryodhana — lest he or she grows up to live up to the negative character that he is named after.</p>.<p>And to top it, the name has to be original — no other kid in your family or friends’ circle should be named such. In earlier days, naming a newborn was a simple task. If it were a boy, he would be named after the grandfather. The first-born male would take the paternal grandfather’s name while the younger one would take the maternal grandfather’s name. Likewise with girls, they would be named after their grandmothers. Invariably, every family had an umpteen number of Narayanas, Ramas or Lakshmis.</p>.<p>And each person would be identified and differentiated by some characteristic trait — their chronological age or skin colour or place of stay. In our family, we had three grand-children named Krishna — and so they were Dodda Krishna, Sanna Krishna and Chikka Krishna (big, thin and small based on age/size). Two cousins named Giri were identified as Bili Giri and Kari Giri (white / black based on their skin colour). Two Narayanas in the family were identified by their respective professions — one worked in a bank and hence was Banker Narayana. The other ran a bathroom fittings and sanitary store. His epithet became Sanitary Narayana!</p>.<p>Then came a time when babies were named after the famous and happening people from the world of movies or cricket. Many a girl was named Aishwarya or Sushmita when these two ladies won beauty pageants. And several cricket-loving families opted for Sachin, Rahul, Sunil or Sourav as a name for their male offspring.</p>.<p>When my friend, Sujatha recently delivered a baby girl, she was stressed over finding the right name for her little one. Every relative was offering suggestions. Her grandmother wanted to name the baby Ahladini — saying it was a meaningful name, another name for Goddess Saraswathi. She believed that the little one would grow up to be smart and well-read with the blessings of the Goddess of Wisdom whose name she would carry. My friend was aghast! She cried out in exasperation, “Ajji, please! She will not even be able to pronounce the name. Forget her, neither can I. It sounds like I am coughing when I call out that name. People will end up calling her Aha!”</p>.<p>Next, Sujatha’s uncle suggested that as she was born on the day of the bandh (strike), she be named Bandhini! My friend lamented that the name had a negative connotation. Prior to the baby’s birth, when they were not aware of the sex of the baby, the same uncle suggested an easy way to name the baby —combine the first two syllables of your and your husband’s names. So if it is a girl, name her Su+Ba = Suba. And if it is a boy, turn the syllables around — he can be Ba+Su = Basu! Sujatha was understandably upset.</p>.<p>Anyway, after an intense Google search and reading up the voluminous book of 10,000 Hindu names, she found a name that fulfilled all the naming criteria — it was short, unique and meaningful. She named her baby Manvi — which meant a girl with supreme qualities. My friend was thrilled and happy. But three months later, life threw a wet blanket over her much-researched and well-thought-out baby-naming exercise. A new family moved into Sujatha’s neighbouring apartment, and their two-year-old daughter was named Manvi!</p>