At times, (like many others, I’m sure) I get deeply annoyed when some random person comes up to me and asks the meaning of my name. Quirky enough? I don’t like to explain to each mortal on the planet what my name stands for.
I know, I have this weird sensitive nerve which gets bothered the moment someone, anyone, asks what my name betokens.
Flashback — I’ve always wondered the intent of my name—looked it up in dictionary, searched on Wikipedia, Googled it out but poor thing, I could not find the exact implications.
During my childhood, whenever my mom used to cuddle me, I remember putting this question up to her. Reason — I never was convinced by what she replied, sweet. Why, on earth, don’t I find this written anywhere but my mom’s cerebellum that my name implies sweetness!
Now, having been deeply disgusted for a long period of time, I have somewhat learnt to live with the fact that my name indicates nothing. It’s just a ‘short n sweet’ colloquial word. I try to forgive random people poking me by asking what my name indicates or those who reassure themselves by asking if this is a nickname. I forgive them all!
Also, the category who toils hard in listing out the word which sound alike, like China, Cheenu, Cheeni or Cheecho and the class which spells my name incorrectly. I, with a heavy heart, forgive them all!
Of late, when I hadn’t encountered any such thing in my life span, I strangely thought that people around me have grown over the fact that they could possibly make fun of my name, and thus, me. But very recently, while having lunch with a few colleagues, I suffered being the subject of mockery and reason was good old, my name. I was feeling so sorry for those guys who, I realized, could not mature over their infantile brain despite their bodies becoming huge to challenge a mammoth’s. On the spur of the moment, a ray from heaven or my brain thought of a way to figure out this problem once and for all.
(Mind you, this is for everyone who is living with an offbeat name.) Since we didn’t name ourselves, we don’t have to entertain amateurish mentality of kidskins here n there. And most of all, we recall the person, the individual, when we remember anyone in our mind! Does anyone try to guess the meaning too—Yes? Dude, I want to meet you and see how contrast a variety the genes of human beings can sport.
Take this for an instance, when I say Roger Federer, I don’t scratch my brain hard to look out for the meaning of his name in my vocabulary. I hardly care. I get moony about the tennis star, his aura and best of all, his work. In the same manner, I believe, when people would recall my name, they should draw in their minds a rough image of how skillfully I work, how efficiently I communicate and how pleasing I look and not what my name implies. So a declarative message to one n all who are yet to come up to me to explore the meaning of my name— I AM THE MEANING OF MY NAME!
*Case closed!*
I know, I have this weird sensitive nerve which gets bothered the moment someone, anyone, asks what my name betokens.
During my childhood, whenever my mom used to cuddle me, I remember putting this question up to her. Reason — I never was convinced by what she replied, sweet. Why, on earth, don’t I find this written anywhere but my mom’s cerebellum that my name implies sweetness!
Now, having been deeply disgusted for a long period of time, I have somewhat learnt to live with the fact that my name indicates nothing. It’s just a ‘short n sweet’ colloquial word. I try to forgive random people poking me by asking what my name indicates or those who reassure themselves by asking if this is a nickname. I forgive them all!
Also, the category who toils hard in listing out the word which sound alike, like China, Cheenu, Cheeni or Cheecho and the class which spells my name incorrectly. I, with a heavy heart, forgive them all!
Of late, when I hadn’t encountered any such thing in my life span, I strangely thought that people around me have grown over the fact that they could possibly make fun of my name, and thus, me. But very recently, while having lunch with a few colleagues, I suffered being the subject of mockery and reason was good old, my name. I was feeling so sorry for those guys who, I realized, could not mature over their infantile brain despite their bodies becoming huge to challenge a mammoth’s. On the spur of the moment, a ray from heaven or my brain thought of a way to figure out this problem once and for all.
(Mind you, this is for everyone who is living with an offbeat name.) Since we didn’t name ourselves, we don’t have to entertain amateurish mentality of kidskins here n there. And most of all, we recall the person, the individual, when we remember anyone in our mind! Does anyone try to guess the meaning too—Yes? Dude, I want to meet you and see how contrast a variety the genes of human beings can sport.
Take this for an instance, when I say Roger Federer, I don’t scratch my brain hard to look out for the meaning of his name in my vocabulary. I hardly care. I get moony about the tennis star, his aura and best of all, his work. In the same manner, I believe, when people would recall my name, they should draw in their minds a rough image of how skillfully I work, how efficiently I communicate and how pleasing I look and not what my name implies. So a declarative message to one n all who are yet to come up to me to explore the meaning of my name— I AM THE MEANING OF MY NAME!
