BLAME THE NAME

(A slight deviation from the Nomadic Adventures and Cross Country Travels of the Outrageousminx Series-aka Minx Does America. But, as any woman knows, we always reserve the right to change our minds.)

Had a thought-provoking discussion with the Fairy Godmother last night, predicting the likelihood (HIGH) of her getting preggers before years end. Along with that discussion came the inevitable bitching about the pain and suffering of childbirth, and the virtues of the German spa-hospital. (Apparently, due to the falling birth rates, hospitals in Germany are competing to have the little brats born in their wards. They are luring women in by promising spa-like facilities and services. A far-cry from the back room butcheries that we in America (and India) call the maternity ward).

ANYWAY, once the imaginary child was born-this prompted the question: what to name it? This sparked a discussion on names, and my own musings on how some unfortunate names have come into being. For example, who on earth decided on the name Randy? I mean, how can a parent name a baby that? Do they KNOW that the child will grow up to be a horn-dog? (and, for the record, most Randys do end up being total pervs-is it because they must live up to their name? chicken? egg? who knows.) And what to name the other children, the Randy siblings? "This is my son Randy. And our adopted Korean daughter Fris-kee". And names which guarantee a profession: Chastity (stripper), Jose (bodega owner/customer), Sri Ram (software engineer)...you get the idea.

And then, of course, the disastrous Indian names. Now, if you name someone something because it sounds nice (like the Germans-whose Heike, Silke, Rike mean nothing, but sound nice (to them anyway)), then you might be okay. But names like Seema (which sounds nice) also have completely horrible meanings. Seema, as you may know, means border. I once asked my Mom why on earth someone would so stupid as to name their kid 'border'. She explained that it meant, a border-as in NO MORE FEMALE KIDS. Hmph. Bet Seema is a well adjusted and loved kid.

And then, there is MY personal fav., the name I love to hate: Khushbu. Vomit. Hurl. Puke. I mean, naming your child 'Aroma'. Barf. AND, the one Khushbu that I had the misfortune of knowing, was a total sabzi kid-reeking of Undhiya and sweat. And, just so you don't think that I judge people by their smell (or lack of it)-the reason she was odious was not because of her malodorous stench-but rather because she thought she was the hot shit that hit the fan and was one of those toxic women who feels the incessant need to gossip. She really thought no end of herself and was baseless in her strutting. Totally deluded, that one was. Talk about a misnomer.

Oh, I can rattle off a litany of names that make me cringe and pity their owners: Champa, Sona (gold), Daulat(wealth), Ginny (as in Guineau coins...see a theme here?), Hans Raj (the Swan King) and Madhu ( ALWAYS belonging to a bitter old woman). Generic, dime-a-dozen names like Sanjay, Preeti and Rajiv. Grown women with cutesy names like Suhani, Dulari, and Dolly.
And any asphyxia-inducing 22 letter hyphenated name that includes your father's name, village name and the names of every one in your neighborhood. Oh...I can go on and on.

And, as if our formal names weren't bad enough-we bear the additional burdens of nicknames which inevitably follow through to adulthood (in fact, is proportional...the more embarrassing the nickname-the more likely it is to stick and be spread far and wide. Imagine a young professional answering to Bubble. So sad.) Shall we visit the more popular of them? Gogi, Dimple, Bittoo and Jolly, and Gotu. Monty, Guddi, Tinu, and Chhotu. Happy, Tony, Pappoo, and Motu. I will see them in my car. I will see them near and far. I see them here and there. I see them everywhere.

And some of these names are ubiquitous. Don't we all have someone in our family who has the misfortune of being known as Babloo, Pinky, Bunty, Tippoo, or (my personal fav.) BABY? And then, there are the RHYMING names.

Parents, inhaling a little too many smog fumes, (and not bothering to consider the financial repercussions of the necessary future therapy sessions to undo the damage) decide it would be oh-so cute to give their three girls the names Pinky, Twinky, and Rinki...whose real names are actually Nina, Tina and Reena. When will we learn? Rhyming and names do not mix. Repeat. Rinse.

Luckily, I escaped the proper nickname, though I have about a million nicknames based on attributes and character traits (as opposed to a parental need to rhyme). In fact, when I was younger-I tried to implement my own nickname to escape the shortened version of my real name. I started by introducing myself to the new kids in the neighborhood by my new chosen name, saying, "My name is ..., but you can call me..." So-walking down the street one day with my Mom, the new kids called to me, using my new name. My Mom looked around to see who she was waving to-only to be informed by 9 year old me that it was my new name. Not bothering to stifle her laughter, the cruel woman proceeded to revel in my ridiculousness and promptly tell the rest of the family. Needless to say, my chosen name didn't catch on and my parents mock me to this day by calling me by my would-be nickname. At least I made life interesting...

But lots can be gained by analyzing someone's name...especially within the South Asian community. You can almost instantly find out where they are from, what religion they are, and how damaged their psyche may be. Anyname ending in li (Rupali, Sonali, Deepali)--a good chance they are Gujus. Any name with a Sri or Bala-I'd be willing to double down and say they are Southies. Any last name ending in "kar"-you better put your money on Marathi.

And it can be useful for dating, too. I recently met a very hot young man who I am going to be staying FAR away from...why, how very un-minx like you may think. why on earth, you may ask. Well...his name (combined with other words) means death. I could have maybe dealth with it if it meant, 'minor injury' or 'broken arm'--but death is a bit much...Yeah...methinks I need to run into the hills. Plus, after analyzing the names of ex-loves, it became apparent how stupid I have been by not paying more attention. DMX's name had no actual meaning (though there was a quest to find out the creation of the name). I should have known better than to get involved with a man who had no identity...and another whose name loosely meant "victory"...someone obsessed with 'making it'--pretty fuckin' balls-on right.

So, cats and kittens, be circumspect before giving a Trixie or Butch a chance...and see if you can really be screaming "Oh, SriRamBalaKrishnamohenKumar...take me now..."Methinks not.