What's in the name?

“You have got a perfect name, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” Said her father reassuringly. For Aomame her name had been a constant point of botheration of her school life. Not only it always came first – as it started from A – but it also made her classmates as well as teachers burst into a fit of laughter as they tried to pronounce it.

Clearly, a name lifted from a towering Japanese author’s intriguing work of fiction 1Q84 – did not go that well for a small town girl in India. However, her father had been an iconoclast – and followed his rebel heart while naming his daughter. The fact that she lost her mother, right at her birth, also might have been one of the reasons his father could have his own way and gave her a name that she would grow to resent.

As years passed she grew more and more uncomfortable with her name. Ideas to change it several times crossed her mind but every time the effort of changing all the documents that are attached to oneself seemed too much.

“What were you thinking when you finalized my name?”  “Had you seen the movie namesake a night before I was born?”  “If mom were there, she would have never approved of such an out of place name.” Thus ran her frequent angry arguments with her dad. Her dad used to calmly reply, every time that her name was kept after the name of a heroine of a wonderful novel and that the character was very powerful. He even suggested she reads the book, however, the size of the book daunted her and she never picked it up.

Years passed, not easily for Aomame- at every juncture, every new meeting, she would feel shortchanged when introducing herself. It was as if, she was pulled back at the start of a sprint by a good few yards! Her frustration only grew with her age.

She eventually married a guy her father had chosen for her. Once during their conversation, he innocuously asked, “what does you name mean, by the way?” – She retorted harshly asking him not to repeat this question ever again. “My name is a part of my life that I don’t want to share with anyone, so please don’t ever ask my anything about it again.”

Her husband was taken aback by this vehement response, he realized that this was perhaps a result of anger accumulated over the years and needed a different treatment. He resolved that he will do something that will make her love and remember her name fondly.

Over the next few days, however, he observed she was keeping very occupied. When asked what she was busy with, she replied, “there is a lot of work at the office, and I am running on a tight deadline, so just busy with it.” He left it at that and started thinking what he can do in order to appease his wife’s long-standing grievance.

After a few days, an idea struck him – he got her name tattooed on his arm. When he came home, he told, slowly rolling up his sleeve, “I have something to show you, it has been on my mind for very long – and I wasn’t quite sure what I could do…. but here it is now. I want you to know that names in themselves have no meaning unless we give them any. And this is a small step to represent the multitudes of meaning your name carries for me.”

She looked at him in disbelief, and handed a new copy of the government issued identity card - showing her new name!

     >Concept borrowed from “Gift of Magi” by O’Henry