What's in a name?

You have a name for 20 odd years. Then you marry. And then your name is supposed to change to include your husband’s name. I don’t understand this. Why should this be? Why should a Preeti Shenoy become Preeti Rao just because she marries an Arun Rao?? I just don’t get the logic. It reaches the heights when she is called Mrs. Arun Rao and as a couple they are addressed as Mr. & Mrs. Arun Rao. Whatever happened to Preeti? She is completely lost.

There are women, even some of my friends who are proud to get their husband’s name. Some are even eager to change their names soon after the wedding either because they don’t like their maiden names or for reasons best known to them. Each to her own. She should be able to do as she pleases. One should have a choice. The world shouldn’t dictate these terms. A girl can have either her dad’s name or her husband’s name…so much for choice!

They say you marry into a family and become a part of it. True. Isn’t it enough that your whole life changes? What is the need to change your name? Your name is your identity…the way you are known to the world. That is how you know yourself. You are first taught to say and spell your name correctly. It is very dear. The name is you!

Ms. changes to Mrs. But why? Wherever I go – say to visit the doctor or open a bank account, I am invariably asked…“Are you a Ms. or Mrs.?” I hate being asked this. I hate to answer “That would be Mrs. Thanks”. Aunties and uncles who ask my name don’t stop at that. “What is your husband’s name?” soon follows. And lo! My name gets married automatically.

‘Mrs’ to me conjures up the image of an old housewife with heaps of grandkids. It is archaic. I sound vintaged with a Mrs. prefixed to my name. How is it that a Mr. remains a Mr. all his life? And what happens to divorced/widowed women?

Why is the world so interested in knowing whether a lady is single or married? What difference does it make? How are the two titles perceived? Why make a fuss about it? I find this concept prehistoric. I am amazed at how universal this phenomenon is. Country, religion and language no bar - getting a married name and the title of Mrs. seem to be the norms all over the world. I have noticed that in the western world, the emphasis on the titles is more than what it is in India. They address you as a Mrs. Singh, Mrs. Scott or a Mrs. Moorthy. So long, farewell to Sunidhi, Sandra and Shuba.

Those who argue ‘For’ might raise the issue of kids. Kids get their fathers name. It is meant to be a family inheritance. So be it. Let men have the illusion that it is still a man’s world. It probably soothes their ego. If a mother retains her maiden name it is assumed that she is not married to the kid’s father. It becomes a de-facto relationship. People are very quick in making these brilliant deductions. The child may have to answer embarrassing questions at school and later.

Once on a domestic flight my husband and I were not given seats next to each other. We checked in together. I took the boarding passes and moved on never bothering to check the seat numbers. I couldn’t have been sillier. I went back to ask why and if the seats could be changed. The lady at the counter explained that it is so plainly because we didn’t have the same surnames. I thought she was simply outstanding. And of course the flight was full, she couldn’t make any changes. Also I heard from a friend that without the same surnames, you can’t redeem the flight mileage (loyalty reward) points.

Now I am faced with a great challenge - altering my name but not to the so called ‘married’ name. I HAVE to shorten my name. I never had a surname. My dad’s name was made to be the initial. I had to expand the initial for the sake of the passport and to have a surname. Here you just can’t survive without a surname. And if the surname is only 25 characters long, life is really simple! I am planning to just have my first name split into two to serve the surname purpose. I will be asked questions. I will be called adamant or different or pedantic. But I can’t have it any other way. I hope I’ll get through this now and forever.

It was of great solace when I was Googling the issue to find lots of women feel just the way I do. There are others who strongly resent the norm too. Some excerpts of what I got to read:

As a courtesy title Ms. serves exactly the same function that Mr. does for men, and like Mr. it may be used with a last name alone or with a full name. Furthermore, Ms. is correct regardless of a woman's marital status, thus relegating that information to the realm of private life, where many feel it belongs anyway.

Ms: Origin: 1952. Women finally got the vote in America in 1920, but that hardly marked the end of their battle for equal status and respect. There was the matter of title, for example. Men were addressed simply as Mr., but women were addressed as either Mrs. or Miss, depending on marital status. Reforming everyday language to eliminate sexism is not easy, but the case of Mrs. and Miss was helped by practical business considerations.

A suggestion to neutralize the distinction by using simply Ms. was well-received by businesses. In 1952 the National Office Management Association in a booklet titled The Simplified Letter recommended to its members, "Use the abbreviation Ms. for all women addressees. This modern style solves an age-old problem."

The new designation and its association with feminism were furthered by the founding of Ms. magazine in 1971. The form of address Ms. had both simplified matters of address by providing a neutral, practical title for women, equivalent to Mr. for men, and increased women's options: now a woman can use Mrs., Miss, or Ms. according to her own preference. Unlike the more traditional titles Miss and Mrs., it does not bear any reference to the woman's marital status, as Mr. does not for a man. The usage of Ms. was championed as non-sexist language beginning in the 1970s, especially in business usage, by those who argue that a woman's marital status is of no relevance in such a context. Starting in the 1970s, many women chose to be called Ms. for political reasons.

It is the title of preference of many ladies who feel they are not owned by a father and wish not to be owned by a husband. Most women style themselves either "Miss" or "Mrs". The title Mrs. though is still in common use, especially by women who have taken their husband's family name - the vast majority.

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
by any other word would smell as sweet." -- From Romeo and Juliet

Romeo Montague and Juliet Capulet meet and fall in love in Shakespeare's lyrical tale of "star-crossed" lovers. They are doomed from the start as members of two warring families. Here Juliet tells Romeo that a name is an artificial and meaningless convention, and that she loves the person who is called "Montague", not the Montague name and not the Montague family. Romeo, out of his passion for Juliet, rejects his family name and vows, as Juliet asks, to "deny (his) father" and instead be "new baptized" as Juliet's lover.

sense and sensitivity

two years ago i wrote a blog on my then boss. it detailed some of his habits, my experiences with him and work related trivia. it was sarcastic and lacked sensitivity.

better sense has now prevailed. i regret writing that piece and have deleted the same. thanks to the wisdom of the bygone years.

the metamorphosis

It has been a roller coaster emotional ride in the last 2 years. It was elation when I got married. It was also a bit of ‘I don’t know what’s happening to me’. Soon after, it was separation anxiety when I was away from my husband while I waited to join him. It was disappointment that I couldn’t continue working in Bangalore. It was extremely sad on the last day at work. It was elation again when I got my visa, shopped and packed my stuff. Then it was separation anxiety/sorrow at its worst when I left to Sydney…far away from my parents, my brother, my home, everyone and everything else dear. It was marital bliss later.

It is a huge transition from being single to married. I cannot emphasise on it more. Married life thus far has taught me a great deal. I have learnt to live and share with Ravi. It is a sea-change from living with your parents. It starts with understanding each other, or trying to, as this is a lifelong process. It involves doing things together. Weekends have to be planned keeping each other in mind. There is a LOT of cooking to do. It is a lot of fun going places together, hosting parties as a couple, making common friends. There is a lot of give and take. We have now reached a point where things are done for each other almost unconsciously! We now know who is qualified in which task. This awareness lets us use our skills to the optimum! To illustrate, making coffee the first thing in the morning is Ravi’s cup of tea. All the chores have been well defined. I have been named ‘Lakshamma’! So you can guess my role in the house. I have been domesticated. I can now exceptionally manage the jobs that were hitherto alien to me. I can now cook, clean, feed any number of guests and make the bed too! My mom will be so proud of me.

The greatest plus of being married is that you have the power of two. I am not alone. To know that there is a special someone in your life who is eager to meet you at the end of each working day is so beautiful. It is such a blessing that your partner will be with you for life, through your joys and sorrows. It takes two to realise your dreams, to build your future.

As if being newly married wasn’t enough, I moved to a new country. I had to start living in the western world. Reflecting back, it amuses me to realise how I got thrown into two deep ends without knowing how to swim! Both these life changes have sort of completed me. I feel ‘metamorphosis’ed. It is a complete makeover. It is a new ‘me’. It was at first the excitement of exploring a new country, a new way of life. Alice was in wonderland! Sydney opened a whole new window to look at the world. The horizon got expanded. My beliefs, perceptions of people and understanding of way things worked were put to the ultimate practical test. My view points have since changed a bit. I have become more accommodative. I’ve come to like the freedom. I have realised things about me that I didn’t know earlier. This probably has been a very significant phase of self discovery.

Having travelled only to different parts of India and never outside it, my response to ‘Where are you from?’ was always ‘I am from Bangalore’. Now it is replaced with ‘I am from India’. There is a bigger sense of where I come from. Also, I now feel like a global citizen, as a part of the world and not just a particular country. I am more aware of what is happening around the globe.

Sydney has people from all over the world. For the first time in my life I came across Greeks, Africans, Lebanese, Srilankans, Fiji Indians and who have you. Australia is considered a safe haven. Migrants particularly from trouble countries find refuge in Australia. There are people arriving by boats in scores to the Aussie shores. Those without valid visas are put in detention centres and the hardships faced are multi-fold before they can build a base here. It won’t be surprising if migrants outnumber the true blue Aussies. But going by the history I wonder who true blue Aussies are. Australia was meant to be a prison land for convicts and criminals of the UK. There are shocking stories of how the early English settlers snatched this land away from the original tribal dwellers – the Aborigines. So the Aborigines can probably be rightfully called true blue Aussies.

The weather gave me a tough time initially. The first winter was hard. But thank heavens we are not in the icy UK or the snowy parts of US. Though the weather is quite a tricky thing here, it is quite manageable. It could be scorching hot one day, raining the next and very windy and cold on the third.

Self dependency is the name of the game. Do your own thing is the rule. There are many million things that were taken for granted while I lived in India. The housework would get done by the maid. You just had to ring the grocer and the supplies would be delivered home. Milkman would drop by every afternoon. Veggie carts would come to every street. You need not worry if you couldn’t cook some day. Hundreds of darshinis were always around to help you.

Here you first drive to a mall. Then walk through aisles and aisles of products. Choosing from hundreds of varieties, comparing prices and quality is in itself a very time consuming affair. Then you queue up at the pay counter. You lift everything in your trolley and stack them on the biller’s desk. The more and heavier are your things, worse it is for you. Once billed you stack them back in your trolley. Wait, it doesn’t end there. Push the trolley to the parking lot and shift everything to the boot of your car. Drive home. Carry all the bags to your unit. If you live on the third floor (blocks with 3 storeys have no elevators) you’ve had it! And finally stack them in your fridge. Phew.

The first striking thing about Sydney is how traveller friendly it is. There are signboards all over the place. All main roads have visible direction boards. All the street name boards are in place. There are city map books referring to which you can go from anywhere to anywhere in Sydney. There is no need to ask for directions. Basically there will be no one around on roads to direct you. Also travelling at high speeds makes it impossible to stop and ponder. If you don’t drive, there are websites to give you detailed maps, tell you how to get to where including what mode of transport to take replete with timings, maps and fares. There are call centres you could ring to find out the same info. There are visitor centres set up in every part of Sydney. Here is where you can grab as many brochures and pamphlets on all tourist attractions. And they are free! You can also speak to the friendly staff behind the counter say if you are lost or seeking last minute accommodation.

The local train stations have free timetable books you can ask for at the counter. All the station names are displayed all through the platforms. So while on the train, say a fast train and you don’t want to miss your stop, all you have to do is peep out to know where you are. There are of course announcements made on the train and in stations on delays/approaching trains/next station etc. These little things have been well thought through and probably made possible by the wealth available to a developed country.

When you talk about Australia, you cannot not talk about its beauty. It is an awesome country. You must see the blue of the beaches to believe it. Melbourne/Brisbane/Sydney, each city has its own distinctive flavour and is equally enchanting. I love the noise free quiet here. I love the clean air too.

The civic discipline and the sense of social responsibility everybody carries here amazes me. Personal space and privacy is very highly regarded. You can do your own thing. Unless you are not harming or troubling anyone, no questions are asked. Nobody wilfully dirties roads or public places. Everybody takes care of their trash bins, ensuring that it is placed on the pavement for collection on a weekly basis. Almost everyone follows driving rules. The law is obeyed. Pedestrians are given their due. There are well cemented pavements and pedestrian crossing traffic signals everywhere. No matter how crowded the trains are in peak hours the norm is to wait for all those alighting to get off the train before you can get on. Everyone patiently waits and boards. You don’t get squashed. You need not exert to ensure you get in or out.

I am also really impressed with the near absence of eve teasing. In these 20 months I haven’t come across a road romeo who lustfully looks at you, whistles as you walk past or even dares to pinch your butt. Walking in Majestic or Brigade road always was tough. I would walk with my left arm held at the back ready to defend. I would clutch a bag or a folder to shield my front. Those ‘accidental’ brush ups against your shoulder would always be deliberate. And god, the experience was yuck. Here I can walk peacefully and confidently irrespective of what I’m wearing or the time of the day and place. You won’t be pushed or shoved. You won’t hear lewd comments being passed. Of course there is a negligible fraction of junkies you have to watch out for.

I am happy with a lot of things here. All said and done it can never be home. I feel a loss of sense of belonging. It leads me to question my sense of identity. I am different in a crowd. I am not one among the crowd as I would be in Bangalore. Sometimes I feel lost. But sometimes I stand proud. My eating habits, my sense of dressing, my routine are all so different as compared to the people here. I tend to make friends with only other Indians here. I still feel like a traveller here. It will probably take a while to accept Sydney as home. I am still home sick.

I wanna go home.

Listen to this Michael Buble song on his official site here (wait for the graphics to download and then the embedded music will play, you might have to choose the song 'Home' on the top right corner). It is better heard than read, as most songs I suppose! Michael Buble is just brilliant.


Another summer day
Has come and gone away
In Paris and Rome
But I wanna go home Mmmmmmmm

Maybe surrounded by
A million people I
Still feel all alone
I just wanna go home
Oh I miss you, you know

And I’ve been keeping all the letters that I wrote to you
Each one a line or two “I’m fine baby, how are you?”
Well I would send them but I know that it’s just not enough
My words were cold and flat
And you deserve more than that

Another aeroplane
Another sunny place
I’m lucky I know
But I wanna go home
Mmmm, I’ve got to go home

Let me go home
I’m just too far from where you are
I wanna come home

And I feel just like I’m living someone else’s life
It’s like I just stepped outside
When everything was going right
And I know just why you could not
Come along with me
But this was not your dream
But you always believed in me

Another winter day has come
And gone away
In Paris and Rome
And I wanna go home
Let me go home

And I’m surrounded by
A million people I
Still feel alone
Oh, let me go home
Oh, I miss you, you know
Let me go home

I’ve had my run
Baby, I’m done
I gotta go home
Let me go home

It will all be all right
I’ll be home tonight
I’m coming back home