<p>My father had a talent—or perhaps a habit—for naming people in a charmingly apt manner. During our time in Kolkata, he would often use paid parking spots. As soon as he parked his car, a parking attendant would arrive, slip a ticket under the windscreen, and promptly disappear. When it was time to leave, father would search for the attendant to pay him, but he would never be found. Just as Father started the car, the attendant would reappear, grinning, to collect the parking fee. This scenario played out every single time, leading father to nickname the attendant ‘Yamdoot,’ whom no one could escape and who would definitely turn up when it was time to go!</p>.<p>My father used to get his car serviced and repaired at a nearby garage. The name of the mechanic was Kartik, which my father immediately changed to ‘Car theek’ since he would make the car theek (right). Father worked as a senior executive in a multinational company. In those days, every executive had a secretary to handle the correspondence and perform other tasks of a personal assistant. One secretary who worked for him was small and petite, just under five feet in height. Her name was Millie Graham, so of course dad affectionately called her Milligram!</p>.<p>Another junior office staff member was my father’s favourite. Her name was Jennifer Braganza, and she was a real asset to the company. Her English was impeccable, her spelling and grammar perfect, and her typing skills were amazing. She would finish her typing in record time without a single mistake! But she got married and had to leave to join her husband, Ronald Innocent, in Africa. At her send-off party, father made everyone smile when he said, “We would really like to hold you back here, but I guess we’ll have to let you go since you are Innocent!”</p>.<p>We once brought a pet home, a dog called Vicky. He was very playful even after growing out of puppyhood, and there was nothing he liked better than playing by romping around. One of Vicky’s favourite things to do was to grab a passing person’s clothes to play with them. One could not go near him without getting their sari/salwars/lungi/trousers tugged at. He would grab a bit of cloth in his mouth and would pull and tug as hard as he could. Is it any wonder that Dad changed his name to Dushyasana?</p>
<p>My father had a talent—or perhaps a habit—for naming people in a charmingly apt manner. During our time in Kolkata, he would often use paid parking spots. As soon as he parked his car, a parking attendant would arrive, slip a ticket under the windscreen, and promptly disappear. When it was time to leave, father would search for the attendant to pay him, but he would never be found. Just as Father started the car, the attendant would reappear, grinning, to collect the parking fee. This scenario played out every single time, leading father to nickname the attendant ‘Yamdoot,’ whom no one could escape and who would definitely turn up when it was time to go!</p>.<p>My father used to get his car serviced and repaired at a nearby garage. The name of the mechanic was Kartik, which my father immediately changed to ‘Car theek’ since he would make the car theek (right). Father worked as a senior executive in a multinational company. In those days, every executive had a secretary to handle the correspondence and perform other tasks of a personal assistant. One secretary who worked for him was small and petite, just under five feet in height. Her name was Millie Graham, so of course dad affectionately called her Milligram!</p>.<p>Another junior office staff member was my father’s favourite. Her name was Jennifer Braganza, and she was a real asset to the company. Her English was impeccable, her spelling and grammar perfect, and her typing skills were amazing. She would finish her typing in record time without a single mistake! But she got married and had to leave to join her husband, Ronald Innocent, in Africa. At her send-off party, father made everyone smile when he said, “We would really like to hold you back here, but I guess we’ll have to let you go since you are Innocent!”</p>.<p>We once brought a pet home, a dog called Vicky. He was very playful even after growing out of puppyhood, and there was nothing he liked better than playing by romping around. One of Vicky’s favourite things to do was to grab a passing person’s clothes to play with them. One could not go near him without getting their sari/salwars/lungi/trousers tugged at. He would grab a bit of cloth in his mouth and would pull and tug as hard as he could. Is it any wonder that Dad changed his name to Dushyasana?</p>
