81. A for Prayagraj, B for Mumbai, C for...

What's in a name?

Neither does A stand for Prayagraj nor is B for Mumbai anymore. Likewise,  the alphabet C no longer connotes Calcutta. Together with Allahabad and Bombay, the ABC of nomenclature change is all pervasive. To adjust to this change, one would need to opt for other easy-on-tongue handy names to denote respective cities. It doesn't end with three alphabets as many more cities seem to be in queue - purportedly to make gullible believe that re-alphabetization will turn things around, transforming the present dirty cities into future smart conclaves. Whether that happens, the name-changing game remains an act of political fabrication with revisionism being pushed to erase history of inconvenience.     

Shakespeare’s assertion that a rose will smell the same even if named otherwise makes sense but not when political undertones reflect a sinister design. This said, names carry the legacy that provides continuity to the existence of people and places. Further, names provide a sense of belongingness for those who inhabit the place, with a sense of purpose and a reason for the place to be. Any disconnect has undocumented implications. Such is its psychic impact that people carry forward pre-partition memories by naming their present dwellings as Kohat Enclaves, Multan Nagars and the like. Even within the country, the trend has prevailed within major cities. There is an innate connection that aligns the soul of the place with the identity of its people. 

No surprise that even after half a century of living in Delhi, I continue to register my identity with our ancestral village. Isn't such perception true for many of us? However, it gives me a continuity of existence though it may not define the nature of my being, the cultural lineage to the place remains valuable nonetheless. Social scientists suggest that such perception is borne out of the realization that the place is neither just a site, nor people, politics or culture, but a chemistry between all this and much more. However, rarely if ever the process of re-alphabetization captures nuances of names, and the cornucopia of their meanings. No wonder, the terrain of placenism has remained a never-ending historical phenomenon revolving around political influence.      

I reckon that in nomenclature are embedded an array of confounding emotions. Despite the politics of the time laying ugly claims over names, what lies immersed in the collective psyche cannot be held back from the people for long. Despite its name being changed to Rupnagar some four decades ago, people of this town in Punjab have held onto its maiden name - Ropar. In similar vein, Mohali is preferred over its official title Sahibzada Ajit Singh Nagar. So seems true for Mumbai and Chennai, where collective memory has conveniently prevailed over the enforced colonial identity. In all these cases, the sub-national identity has seemingly surfaced to claim legitimacy over identity, power and space.

Name brings forth the city through memory, through what is, what was, and its people who leave and return. However, re-alphabetization seems to curb its desires, and restricts its freedom. Prayagraj is a case in point. Meaning the confluence of two rivers, the term prayag lay subsumed within Allahabad. By renaming the iconic city as Prayagraj, the geography of the place has been given prominence over its chequered history. Need it be said that the new name Prayagraj will need lots of feeding, vacuuming, washing, and tuning to remain relevant because it has always been a part of the vast expanse of the socio-cultural landscape called Allahabad. Will erasing memories of the whole for its part be worth the cost, only time will tell. 

If the idea is to exaggerate the character profiles of our existing cities, then re-alphabetization should be used as the metaphor to transform the postscript from the cities' existing nomenclature. After all, there are any number of cities that carry bad and poor as their inborn inheritances. Hydera-bad, Allaha-bad, Kan-poor and Nag-poor are just a few, even in pun lie reflections for a serious attention. Unless re-alphabetization means transformation, one would continue to ask: what's in a name?' 

First published in The Hindu on March 20, 2022.

80. Nothing goes wrong when it is pink

Thoughtful in pink!

For me, the Valentine Day (Feb 14) means chuddies gaining prominence, and that too pink colored. It takes me back to that day over a decade ago when unsuspecting women and men drinking at a bar in Mangalore were at the receiving end of unprovoked violence at the hands of the self-styled moral custodians of an entity called Sri Ram Sena, who had unilaterally held the poor group responsible for violating Indian values. During the weeks that followed the outrageous incident, its leader Pramod Muthalik had something altogether different to confront. Hundreds of pink chuddies (underwear) had literally poured on him from across the country by protesting women. Bravo!

As I recall this highly publicized incident of 2009, I still wonder what might have the controversial recipient done with those colorful pieces of underclothing? Not much is known though about how innumerable pieces of lingerie were finally managed and done with. Were these consigned to the neighborhood garbage dump or disposed of at a throw away price with the local merchandiser? Burning the stockpile publicly would have meant adding fuel to the public ire! For once, nondescript chuddies had come out in the open to attain a cult status, a new tool for peaceful protest.  

Thanks to the novel form of protest initiated by a courageous bunch of women, Nisha Susan, Mihira Sood, Jasmeen Patheja and Isha Manchanda, the otherwise hidden piece of personal wardrobe was finally out in the public as a potent tool to garner public attention for a cause. A couple of years before the incident, Prince Charles had toasted the entry of word chuddies into the English lexicon during a public dinner at the Windsor Castle in 2007. However, it took some twelve years before the poor chuddies passed several linguistic tests to find a place in the dictionary.

Acknowledging that not one but several of these had virtually deluged the moral custodians from raising their heads again, chuddies had ceremoniously entered the Oxford dictionary in 2017, along with other 650 new words at that time. The popular catchphrase 'kiss my chuddies' by actor-comedian Sanjeev Bhaskar in his BBC sitcom 'Goodness Gracious Me' had come handy in letting the underpants slip through to make the final cut to enter the dictionary. It is now official, one can ask for chuddies without any hesitation during the next visit to the neighborhood store.

The evolution of chuddies from a piece of private garment to a tool for public protest is undoubtedly inspiring. That a piece of personal wardrobe can spur a movement for equal rights for women has its place in history. It had once topped the feminine protests. The women who had triggered the 'burn the bra' movement of the 1960s in the US had done so as a symbol that showed independence from men at that time. Since many women thought that it meant freedom to be natural and not pushed up, the ubiquitous piece of underclothing was consigned to freedom trash cans.  

The chuddies seemed to have arrived on the global scene, it has gained recognition that was long due to it. Come to think of it, chuddies is what underpant is not. It is a symbol of freedom. History is all about symbols, and the symbolic chuddies must be taken as a serious critique of the way women continue to get treated in a man's world. That 'history is but a fable agreed upon' must help the evolving story of chuddies be told and retold. Telling stories is what we humans are good at, and nothing better than telling the story of pink chuddies should mark this day today, and in future.  

First published in Outlook on Feb 14, 2022.