What’s in the name?

Recently, I was in a village called Puthupalayam, on the banks of Cauvery, to attend the funeral of my old periyamma (aunt).

During the funeral, an old man was sitting besides me. Whenever somebody was called to perform some ritual, the old man kept asking me, who each of them was.

“Who is that boy in red shirt… oh… he is the son of ……?”

“ The man with spectacle… is he son-in law of ……?”

“ Is this the sister of……..?”

“ where is the last grand son of …….?”

While he kept asking all these to me, I could sense he also wanted to know who I was. Finally he did ask me…. “ Thambi entha vooru….?” (Where are you from?).

“I am from Madras” I said.

“ Neenga andha ammakku enna murai?” ( How are you related to the lady who passed away?)

“ Avanga en periyamma. En appavoda anny” ( She is my aunt. Wife of my father’s elder brother!)

“Ada… karuppan mahana nee?” ( Are you karuppan’s son?)

My father, though has a nice name, Sundararajan, was known in the village as Karuppan! I also noticed the sudden “Nee” from “neenga”! May be he realized I was not a stranger, but a close relative.

“Your father and I were bum pals you know… we used to play together… eat together….”

I was bit excited and asked him .. “Oh, is that so? What is your name?”

He looked at me strangely as if I had asked some thing disrespectful!

“Name…? Leave the name… mmm…. what good times we used to have…. we were all maaman machinan (cousins)… teasing each other and pulling the legs always …. Mmm… he studied well and went to town… and we are still stuck in this small place….”

He went on and on for some time. Then something struck me. All through the conversation, whenever he asked about someone, he never asked “What is his name? What is her name?… what is your name?”

He referred every one by their relationship with some other known person, and never bothered to know the name. Vaathiyar payyan (son of the teacher), Periya veetu peran (grand son of big house), Coimbaturekaran ponnu (daughter of the coimbatore person)… the relationship seems to be much more important to him. I realized that every one in the village were like that. Wherever I went, whomsoever I met, no body asked me what my name was. Whenever I was introduced, I was always referred as “my brother”, “my cousin”, “my chittappa payyan”, “Coimbatore periyaapa payyan” and so on. Even when they had to use the name, the relationship was always suffixed, like… Raja annan, Rani akka, Velusamy mama… and so on.

Come to think of it, I feel our urban children do not have any idea of so many relationships. For them a person is a name, and not a relationship! I even wonder if they know what different types of relationships exist. Appayee (father’s mother), Ammayee( Mother’s Mother), Periyappa (Father’s elder brother), Chitappa (Father’s younger brother), Chinnamma, Periyamma, Athai, Maami, Chinna athai, periya athai, Athai patti, Athaachi, thaai maama, anny, kolundhan, Kolundhiya, machaan, pangaali… mmm every relationship seems to have a specific name. But for the city kids, every elderly lady is an Aunty and all elderly men are Uncle!

They don’t even refer their siblings by relationship. Everybody is just a name. When a girl addresses a boy in public place as “Ram”, you can’t be sure if Ram is her brother or a boy friend! All my sisters address me as Anna. I always addressed my sister as Akka. Are we forgetting all that?

To our kids today, relationship seems totally insignificant compared to the name!

The periyamma who just passed away, used to be close to me, very fond me and even I am very fond of her… but to tell you frankly, I don’t know her name! I had never heard anybody referring her by name. It never occurred to me even once, to find out what her name was. Thinking of it now, it seems completely insignificant.

The old man who was sitting besides me, while leaving, did tell me “ karuppan kitta, mani maaman kettatha sollu” (tell your father that Mani uncle enquired him). Perhaps he thought it was fine to let me know his name. But by then, I knew, more than Mani, Maama was important.