Pritam's Blog
What’s The Story Of Your Name?
So, there was some urgent requirement for 12 long stories to be written in three days. “Go to wherever the fuck you want and write these stories. I will sponsor unlimited coffee from wherever you want. Just keep writing,” she said, my boss. And I obliged; I went to the nearest Starbucks.
Thanks to Covid, the place was almost empty. And I was engulfed into writing in no time. I wrote peacefully for the next one hour or so before anybody interrupted me.
“Excuse me, would you mind if I sit here?” A young girl, probably in her late teens or early twenties. Bespectacled. Nerdy. More than pretty, less than beautiful, if you know what I mean. Enough to intimidate me, shake the minimum confidence this shy writer has. Why on earth here, with me, I thought. The entire place was still empty.
“Can I help you?” I asked, hesitantly.
“Depends… What’s your name?”
“How would that help you?”
“I am sorry if I have interrupted,” she said, sitting down. “I collect names, you see.”
“I don’t understand,” I was really confused now. A little irritated too.
“You know I think there’s always a story behind how people are named. Last week, I came across someone named Rooksh. Rooksh means ‘rough’. Apparently, his mom had lived an extremely ruthless life. Smoking, drinking, drugs… She did everything. Then she got married. And she was not able to conceive a child. The doctor said its her lifestyle that’s taking a toll on her health. Anyway, she couldn’t bear the thought that she would probably remain childless. And she took to drinking and smoking with a certain kind of vengeance. And still miracle happened. She conceived a baby when she was in her 40s. A boy was born. And she named him Rooksh, because she believed the baby’s journey to this world was rough. Isn’t it interesting?”
“It is,” I agreed. I was still recovering from the suddenness of this unexpected and eventually interesting interruption.
“So, I basically talk to people and find out the story behind their names… And I was wondering if you had anything interesting to share with me about your name,” she said.
“I don’t think so. My name is Pritam. It’s a Punjabi word I guess. Some variation of Priyatam, the beloved. That way, every child is their parents’ beloved. There’s no interesting story behind my name,” I confessed. “I guess my parents didn’t have the depth of mind to think that way. They named my brother Priyam, because it rhymes with Pritam. I think people who are irrationally obsessed with the concepts of ‘family’ and ‘bloodline’ simply choose a name that reflects the relationship in some way or the other. Sharing the blood, even the surname isn’t enough for them. And in most cases, it has a patriarchal undertone. For example, if the father’s name starts with P, they tend to name the child with something that starts with P too. That, I believe, is the story behind my name and the names of thousand others.”
“Ok. I guess I didn’t consider that. It was insightful,” she said. “I am assuming you don’t have a kid,” she continued after a pause.
“Do I look like a father?” I was amused now. Few years ago, a question like this would have infuriated me. I still remember how offended I was when a kid called me ‘uncle’, that too when I was buying chocolates for myself at a supermarket.
“You don’t. Anyway, if you become a father someday, what would you name your child? Have you given it a thought?” she asked.
“I don’t think I want to become a father. But yeah, when I was younger, I wanted to be a dad some day. And I wanted a girl. And I thought I would name her Tiyasha.”
“That’s a nice name… Why Tiyasha if I may ask?”
“It’s an amalgamation of Tista, a beautiful hilly river in North Bengal, and Kuasha, fog. The young me was a little poetic, you see.”
“See, there’s a story behind the name… Just the person is missing,” she winked.
“Yes, but I think most people don’t really have a story behind their names. That’s it. Of course, there are exceptions. People with very unique names might have a story… Like Rooksh… Or…”
I was about to say your name. I didn’t… I drifted in my thoughts and started wondering the origin of your name. All these years and I don’t even know the meaning of one of the most unique names I have come across. And I realised it’s probably because we grew up together. I see you when I think of my earliest memories. Your name intertwined with your presence never seemed unusual back in those days. I guess the absence of people changes your perspective.
“Or?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I just smiled.
She left after sometime and I googled your name. Apparently, there are only three other people with the same name as yours. The possibility of her getting in touch with you for the story behind your name would have been higher if I had uttered the name. Thank goodness, I didn’t.
But what’s the story behind your name?