This post is written by Mayuri Nidigallu as part of the 6th anniversary celebration of my blog.
Of how endearing monikers can cost you dear.
Disclaimer: This article may cause strange emotional reactions in people as they read through it. Please keep tissues handy and resist from calling up your family to demand answers or simply vent repressed anger. To my family; I love you all (in print)
There are things that your parents shouldn’t have done, maybe have done, or should have done. Oh yes, the list of complaints is long. But there’s one thing I am so glad my parents DIDN’T do, and that is…
Give me a moniker. I am so glad I don’t have a pet name/home name/nick name.
An issue, you ask? Well, yes. Read on.
My Aunt and Uncle lovingly nicknamed their much-awaited first-born, ‘Gappu’. Now, ‘Gappu’ literally means fat/cute/cuddly. Sadly, our ‘Gappu’ did not and still does not fit any of the above adjectives.
All of 25 yrs old now, a lanky and very good looking lad, ‘Gappu’ cowers with terror/humiliation each time someone, he wishes he never knew, calls him by his ghastly ‘nick’ in public and more so when there’s a pretty girl around.
These are the times I am thrilled to be spared the torture of having a “pet” name.
But I wasn’t always Mayuri. No Sir! I was called “Baby” (cringing with shame here) when I was little!
My formative years were spent in the innocent assumption that my ‘real’ name was actually ‘Baby’. In fact, I wrote my name as ‘Baby Sharma’ everywhere.
When I was old enough (8years, if it interests you) to realize that the ‘Baby’ in question was yours truly, I made up my mind and took a brave stand and just refused to answer to it. The family could ‘Baby’ me from here to eternity, but I plain refused to answer!
Nicknames, as forms of endearments, can cause some serious damage as you grow up.
Imagine this gorgeous 6 footer, with an amazing physique and a great smile walking towards you. You hold your breath, thank your lucky stars and wonder what you did right when suddenly someone calls out to him “Bholu/Pappu/Chintu.”
Clink. Shatter. Crash. Those were your dreams as you suddenly wonder if he is really that hot, is he?
You may traverse seven seas, cross continents and negotiate deserts and mountains, anything to distance yourself from your nickname. But your nickname will never leave you.
You have flown double digit hours, are at the other end of the time zone among colleagues called Gottfried and Krisoijn, gleefully devouring your Poffertjes, ecstatic in the knowledge that you’ve left your deep, dark secret far behind when you open your mailbox to find a (or if it’s your lucky day, many) emails from back home saying “we miss you/take care/eat on time Dolly/Bintu/Dumpty.” And suddenly the world is a tiny, tiny place and there is no escape.
You have just wrapped a multi-million pound deal and are feeling invincible, accepting much hand-pumping and rightfully deserved accolades, smiling smugly at your weighty name being splashed and flashed all over the media when your mum calls up to congratulate her “Simpu/ Monu/ Dholu ” on loudspeaker in full view of your colleagues. Suddenly victory does not seem so sweet anymore.
Nicknames are forms of endearments special to each household. The pet names don’t have to make sense and are more often than not sources of amusement to outsiders, but they are very special in the warm circle of love the family has built around the child.
Whenever I hear a crazy nick, and see the person cringing in shame, I sit back, smile and smugly say to myself “You’ve come a long way…Baby!”
About Mayuri –
Mayuri Nidigallu is a Tarot Consultant by Profession and a Writer by Design. Since she is already aware of what the future holds, she enjoys unwrapping the present.
Read all posts from the 6th anniversary celebration of the blog – #6YrsOfHappiness