Tell me the story of a name

Part 1 of a series on my name

“Till the time we don't finalise a name for the child, let us call her Guddu.” My grandfather had the first word. My parents accepted it. Guddu. Gudiya. Angel. What else would I mean for them if not this after all?

"Jh se naam rakhdo", said the panditji (priest).
(Name her with a word starting with Jh)

"Jharna rakhde kya?" someone suggested.
(How about Jharna (Waterfall)?)

The next day another advice was received. One is not supposed to be named by the astrological alphabet. It is a bad omen. And so, Jharna never happened.

"Simran rakhdo? Aaj kal ka best naam hai ye!", suggested some of my relatives who were still hungover on the cinematic overdose of the recent hit Dilwale Dulhaniya Lejayenge.
(How about Simran? It’s the best name these days!)

"Humari beti unique hai. Naam bhi unique hoga." insisted my parents.
(Our daughter is unique. Her name too must be unique.)

"Rambharpayi rakhdo!", said my great grandmother from her death bed. "Shayad is naam se ram ji sun lenge. Galtiyo ki bharpayi hogi aur akhir mei ram ji khud bete ke roop mei janam lenge. Ghar ka chirag ajaega!"
(Name her Rambharpayi (God’s compensation). Perhaps Lord Ram will listen to us and accept our penance, finally coming into our lives in the avatar of a son. The lamp of our family!)

Disgusted but not surprised, my parents moved on from the suggestions list.

Then, one fine day my father experienced a eureka moment. "Sanskriti" he pronounced. And, Sanskriti I was.

Sanskriti, I became. Sanskriti meaning culture. Therefore, rooted in my values and culture, an evolving abstract that I define further everyday as I witness and reflect on more of this world.

But, I am also Simran. One among the many. Silly, frivolous and vivacious, busy romanticising my own little world. Ordinary in my own extraordinary way, especially with my ability to seek reassurance and cultivate joy in the unlikeliest of situations.

I am also Jharna. I flow with the force of the many women across generations, whose traumas and patterns I carry, many of which I attempt to overcome and break. I also carry with me the strength of these women who undertook myriad silent acts of courage which eventually enabled me to become an independent, empowered woman today.

I am also Rambharpayi. This is not me seeking penance and my younger brother being born. This me trying to guide him with my lived gendered experience on what it means to be truly "Ram" in a patriarchal world and how to really be a "chirag" to light up this unjust world.

Most importantly, I am also Guddu. My mother's little angel. Living a life that is a tribute to her unconditional love, immense integrity and tremendous grace. A strong and compassionate daughter raised by a remarkable single mother.

I was someone who hated my nick name and hid it from friends as a silly, self-absorbed teenager. And now, I am someone who loves the endearment of this name, asking Maa, "Aapne mujhe Guddu kyu nai bola pyaar se? Pyaar dikhane ki cheez hai na!"
(Why did you not call me as Guddu affectionately? After all, love must be expressed!)

I am the story of all these many names of mine. These are the stories of my many names.

This personal essay was written in response to a prompt by my dear friend and beautiful writer

Deepika Khatri

This will be followed by a part 2 called as “The interesting thing about my name”