I am George Popoulas," a graduate student from Greece introduced himself during the orientation for newly-arrived foreign students. "I am Rao," I responded. "What is your last name?" he asked. "Rao," I repeated. "What is your first name?" he wanted to know.

Which is where I run into my problem. I have always introduced myself with my last name. Ever since I've come to America, I've noticed people have difficulty pronouncing my first name.

To avoid a long explanation, I just said, "My first name is long." He said, "Oh, your name is Long Rao." "No, it's not Long Rao. My first name is... well, it's big," I said, trying to emphasise that my first name was a long one. "So you are Big Rao," he said. I gave up. And re-introduced myself by my full name. George promptly decided he was just going to call me Rao. last

Indian names are invariably always long, especially if the concerned person belongs to South India. One day, I asked my parents about our penchant for long names. My father, it seems, named me after Raghavendra Swami simply because he was impressed with the Raghavendra Mutt in Karnataka.

Personally speaking, I have no complaints. I like my name. As I was born and raised in Mumbai, my Maharashtrian friends called me Raghav. Others called me Raghu, while my closest friends addressed me as Chintu.

It was only when I arrived in America that I began to face a problem with my name. Most can pronounce Rao, though I do get to hear variations like Rayoo, or Rau, or Raooo (as in owl). And when I give telephone operators my last name, they usually end up spelling it as Ralph or Ral.

Initially, I asked my colleagues to call me Raghu, but then I realised there was a spaghetti sauce called Ragu available in the supermarket. One of the professors in college decided to call me Roger, but I wasn't very receptive. Finally, he said, "I think Rao is better." "Roger that," I agreed.

Every time I met someone new, I went through the same set routine. Imagine my frustration in spending my first few minutes with each new acquaintance in getting my name right. But I've found a way around it. Now, I just say, "My name is Raghavendra Rao. Please call me Rao."

Most long first names are associated with Hindu Gods. Parents think that by naming their child after a deity, he or she will be blessed with their qualities or may even derive some powers through some kind of divine intervention. Or they may feel they are invoking God's name each time they call out to their child. That is why you find people with names like Venkateshwara, Ramkrishna, Swaminarayan, Venkatramani and Durgaprasad.

The length of these names led me to wonder about the first names of some of the more popular Gods in the Hindu pantheon. All it took was a little bit of investigation to realise most Hindu Gods have short first names like Ram, Ganesh, Shiv, Krishna, Brahma, Vishnu, Ishwar, Sita, Parvati, Laxmi, Durga, Indra and Radha. Even some of the major characters in the Ramayan and the Mahabharat have short first names like Ram, Laxman, Bharat, Hanuman, Luv, Kush, Arjun, Karna, Bhim, Nakul, Valmiki, Vyasa, Kunti and many more.

I think this is rather unfair. Why do parents opt for long names when Krishna, Ram or Vishnu would just as easily suffice? Maybe they think that by naming their child after just one God, they are offending the others. Maybe the father assigns one name and the mother, another. That is why you see people with double-barrelled names like Ramlaxman, Ramkrishna, Shivram and Laxminarayan. Some even have to live with three-in-one versions like Shivaramakrishna. In this case, I think the grandparents got involved in the naming ceremony. I can see the delight in parents' eyes as they named their child after three gods. But what about the poor child who had to live with it for the rest of his life?

Very few children, however, seem to be named after Brahma. Unlike the other two gods in the Trinity -- Shiva and Vishnu -- I have never heard of the adventures of Brahma. According to legend, Brahma was cursed that he would never be idolised by mortals. Some curse! I think he is blessed. At least his name is not being misused and he continues to hold a special status that is uniquely his own.

I am really not sure why parents saddle their children with such long names; it does not seem to have any impact on the kind of person the child grows into. Nor do these divine names protect the children from the wrath of their parents if they have been naughty.

Then there are Indians who have English names. Literally. We are familiar with the Kapadia clan -- Dimple, Simple and Twinkle. I also know of people called Pinky, Sweety and Boksy. Where I grew up, Pinky was a dog's name and Bosky was a kind of a polyester material out of which we made shirts. What's going on? Are we running out of names? Or did their parents just run out of ideas? There are many good English names, but these folks probably wanted English names with a meaning.

I've also met some Americans at ISKON who changed their Christian names to extra-long Hindu ones in an overboard effort at Indianising their names. In most cases, their names are actually unpronounceable on the first attempt. Why can't they stick to simple, but beautiful, names like Krishna or Vishnu or Gopal?

In college, I met a fellow student whose first name was Ram, but his last name was so long that it would not fit in one line on the identity card. The authorities had to hyphenate his name and continue it in the next line. Apparently, his last name was the name of his village.

Then there are names with several acronyms like BSN Rao or HDK Patil. These involve names of grandfathers, mothers and villages.

Take those Indians whose names are just two letters long. These unfortunate people have reduced their name to acronyms, like JK, JP or KK. They may think it sounds cool but I think it sounds more like the names villains like Pran and Ajit would opt for in Hindi films. In fact, I sometimes wonder if they even remember their full names.

Between these two extremes -- the religious ones who call their children after Gods and others who name their children after ceramics and tablecloth -- there are a good number of Indians with short, beautiful names. In fact, most Indian names have meaningful Sanskrit origins.

I am not an atheist, but I just love Indian names that have no divine origins. Rajesh, Anand, Sanjay, Vipul, Jasmine, Juhi, Sangeeta, Ashish, Piyush are among thousands of Indian names that have good meanings. I find names like Moon Moon Sen and Rum Jhum Banerji just as cute. I also like Shabnam, Madhubala, Noor Jahan, Anarkali. By knowing someone's name and its meaning, you learn a new Indian word. Isn't it cool?

When push comes to shove, however, I don't want to fault Americans alone for not being able to pronounce my first name. Sometimes, even my fellow Indians have problems. When I introduced myself to a Sikh, I would find myself being called Raghubinder Raav. When a Bengali pronounces my name, it becomes a soft Raghabendra.

Personally, though, I've never felt offended by these odd mispronunciations. Recently I met an American woman whose last name was Fries. I pronounced it the way I order my fries at McDonald's. But this woman was furious; apparently, her name is pronounced as Frees. "Okay," I said, "Ms Frees."

So, what's in a name, as the Bard famously asked. Nothing, I'd say. It is you who matters. If you work hard and become famous, then you are a name, whether it's in arts, cinema or politics. Once you are famous, your name becomes famous. It does not matter whether it's your real name or an assumed one like Dilip Kumar, Meena Kumari, Rajesh Khanna, Marilyn Monroe or Madonna.

Raghavendra S Rao is grateful his last name is shorter than his first.

Illustration: Dominic Xavier

Tell us what you think of this diary

      Write a Diary!