I like to imagine what my names would be like at a tea party.
Aria walks in first. In her pale blue kimono, she’s airy and mysterious – you wonder where she’s from. She is tall, with the rigid posture of a ballerina. Her thick black hair tickles her waist as she walks. Her name refers to a solo in an opera, which she loves to slip into conversation. Aria is the name I use to make my way in the world. My parents rarely call me this, so each school year, this name is a blank space I can fill in with how I want to be known. Aria has been called everything from ‘Ria’ to ‘Oreo’, but don’t worry – she finds it hilarious when people get her name wrong.
Oindrila, my middle name, is already seated – perhaps in a shady corner. This Bengali beauty is shy, you see; she isn’t used to company. Crafted by my grandma from my dad’s name, Indranil, the other names accuse her of being less than feminist. Still, I love her because she’s precious. If I share this name with you, you know you have earned my trust.
In a sharp grey suit, slick hair and shining dress shoes, Chakravorty, my surname, looks a lot like my great-grandfather, Nalini Kanta. He holds his hat in ink-stained fingertips; he’s always scrawling in a leather-bound diary. As an upper-caste name occupying a place of historical privilege in India, Chakravorty is used to getting his way. I have mixed feelings about my surname. Sometimes, it feels like a badge of honour, as, unlike Aria, it’s ‘hard to pronounce’. Sometimes, it feels like a gift, connecting me to eight generations of family history in what is now Bangladesh. Other times, Chakravorty is uncomfortable. I cannot fathom how many doors have opened for me purely because of the accident of my name.
Finally, there’s Ri, my ‘dak nam’ – the nickname most Bengalis have. She’s the one pouring tea (and spilling it a lot), the goofy youngest sister of my family. A cry of ‘Ri!’ either means it’s time for dinner, or she’s got ten missed calls from her parents and is in a bit of trouble. She’s been misspelt ‘Rai’ on so many birthday cards, it’s practically become a fond tradition. However, she still has a sparkle. As a shortening of ‘Radha’, the name of the god Krishna’s beloved milkmaid, she has frolicked with her lover in her share of forest groves.
Here is the tea party of my names. Aria laughs knowingly as Ri and Oindrila pile cake onto her plate, Ri sprinkling crumbs over the floor. Chakravorty sips from a china teacup as he watches the chaos. While they have been known to fight over a biscuit or two, they’re friends for life.