What's in a Name?

Names are necessary evils. May be in ancient times, it didn’t make much of a difference because they lived in homogenous societies. But in heterogeneous societies it does. Names are the best and easiest way to segregate and discriminate in the name of caste, religion, region etc. I have faced many instances when name became important to the other person, either to praise me or humiliate me and most of the times hurting without an intention to hurt.

The segregation in the name of religion is possible because unfortunately one particular language is seen as the official language of a religion. Though over the years, religions became universal, it failed to do away with the language of the carriers of the message. By fault Europe has become the mother land of Christianity though Jesus was born in Asia. So in India, you will often see English names for Christians. The same way Islam couldn’t segregate itself from Arabic. A person might not understand a single word of Arabic but can recite the holy Quran by heart. I never understood this phenomenon. The knowledge imbibed in the great book still eludes him and he has to depend on those narrow minded Mullahs to tell him what to do.

Coming back to names, Muslims mostly keep Arabic or Persian names. Persians were the first great civilization to accept Islam. The Muslims who first established on the throne of Delhi were close to this language. Hence Persian was the courtly language. Urdu was borne out of the mixture of Persian and Hindi. Never mind that Urdu isn’t seen as an Indian language by most Indians. It’s more irritating when people think it is the mother tongue of all Muslims in the world.

Whenever anyone converts to Islam, he changes his name as well as if changing the faith wasn’t enough to make him a good Muslim. Would Mohammed Ali become lesser Muslim if he would have retained his maiden name! Of course there is exception to everything. Like I knew a person whose name was 'Rose Khan'. Think again if you thought only Punjabis are capable of doing that. This stereotype is further subverted by Arab Christians who refer to God as “Allah” underlying the fact that Allah isn’t the Muslim god, rather it’s a word in Arabic which means The God.

My name is in Arabic. Baharul Islam means Sea of peace which I think is beautiful. That I’m not peace loving is a different matter. Once I had translated my name in Bengali and tried to play mischief on one of my classmates in college. First two years she couldn’t forgive me for this and in last two years she has been making fun of it.

What prompted me to write this post is Varun Gandhi’s reference to Muslim names recently. He thinks Muslims have scary names…’Karimullah, Mazharullah’. I don’t disagree. But what I want to point out is that Varun is his middle name. His first name is Feroze which in the popular milieu sounds like a Muslim name. What do they say – Sheeshe ke ghar mein rehnewalo ko doosro ke ghar mein patthar nahin phenkna chahiye.

This is Where I Belong

The sun had already set when I crossed Aligarh. This was the first time that I was approaching Delhi in darkness, literally. So the memories started hitting when the train reached the Delhi station. It was almost surreal. I had no plans to come to Delhi in near future and now here I was standing on the station not knowing the way out. It’s been just a year and I have been to this station for hundreds of times. Memories should never be trusted.

As I walked out of the station, I started to feel the excitement. While walking the underground to reach the metro station, I carefully looked into every soul that passed by me looking for someone whom I might just know. Even when I lived here and had hundreds of acquaintances, I never felt the same. Then the realization settled in that I have actually never been so much excited to reach anywhere in my life.

I talked about memory buttons in one of my earlier posts. By the time I set foot in the station, everything around me started to play memory buttons to me. The seat on which I was sitting in the metro brought back so many memories. Zillion of times I have travelled while going to college having fun with the great bunch friends I had. Not to mention that special moment when a special one sat next to me. How distance can make memories so defining and lovable!

Delhi has changed so much just in a year. After getting off the metro in Central Secretariat I was clueless of the route as metro expansion was going on. Nevertheless it was not hard to find the way to Munirka, where my cousin was staying presently. By the time I reached the bus stop a DTC bus of route 620 arrived. The route terminates at Hauz Khas where I had lived first 3 years in Delhi. Not just with the buses of this route, I had a strong connection with DTC buses. Students in Delhi are issued passes which allow them to travel in regular DTC buses of any route. We used it like our ancestral property – hoping in and out whenever we felt like. Moreover our university special buses were provided by DTC. So it was like an exclusive transporter for me and likes.

Since it was taking other route, initially I couldn’t figure out the places I was crossing. The VIP areas are anyway hard to remember as all the streets and houses look the same. After some time when I reached South Avenue, I had figured it out. A ride through Chanakyapuri is always a great experience with the embassies all around. I used to come to Chanakya cinema, which was demolished a year ago, to watch films in the same route. All the memories flashed like I was watching another film, much closer to my heart, just little abstract.

After few turns I reached Sangam, a low key hall where I used to come when my finances would be tight or I wanted to watch lousy films. I had seen Anthony Kaun Hai three years ago, the poster of the film still hangs in the cinema hall with posters of Jai Veeru, Aa Dekhen Zara. By any standard it was quite a strange phenomenon. After the couple of minutes I reached the road to airport. The entire road is being transformed into a flyover. Due to these constructions, the places became almost unrecognizable to me. So I had to put efforts locate the stoppage where I had to get off.

 

As I was walking towards my cousin’s room, the realization had already come. This is the place where I belong. Even while I was staying in Delhi, I never realized how much I loved this place. Growing up at different places, I really don’t belong anywhere. But if anything comes closer, it has to be Delhi. The other reason is that my birthplace doesn’t physically exist and my school is shifted to its permanent building. So Delhi is the only tangible place which supports my memories. I have decided that the way I meet my family at least once in a year, I have to return to this place at least once in a year, no matter which part of the globe I live in. To remain connected to my roots, to bring peace to my wandering soul.

And wherever I wander

The one thing I’ve learned

It's to here

I will always

always return

 Bryan Adams: Spirit, “This is where I belong”

 

Film I just saw

I have just subscribed to bigflix.com as my summer internship is going on. Since there is no academic pressure I can watch as many fims I want. This blog is to share my experiences in watching different sort of films in different langauges. This would be my instant reaction after seeing the film. Hope it will make for good reads.

http://moreflicks.blogspot.com/

The Bride

On 1st March 2009, one of the most promising and talented young actresses of Hindi film industry Ayesha Takia tied the nuptial bonds with her long time boy friend Farhan Azmi and is on the verge of saying good bye to the silver screen. I am sad because I loved her every outing as an actress and  the idea of not being able to see her more is dreadful. Since she is an actress I am supposed not to love her. That's what my friends think as I recieved a lot of flak from  them instead of solace. But then when has the world been able to appreciate a lover's efforts.

On practical side, I wish she gets all the happiness in life and keeps doing films.

Shaadi Se Pehle Socha Na Tha ki Sunday ko Paathsala mein Tasveer dekh kar pyaar ho jayega. Dil Maange More bolke Tarzaan ki tarah Dor pakad ke Home Delivery karne gaya Salaam-e-Ishq uske ghar tak. No Smoking board ke neeche baitha guard Cash leke bola, " Super Shaadi No. 1 to kab se Wanted tha aur aaj Fool N Final ho gaya. Kya Love Story Hai!" Neend se aankh khuli to socha Yun Hota To Kya Hota.

P. S. Words in italics make her filmography.

Unpardonable Aggression

Few years ago while I was in college, one of my friends had funnily observed that the only aggressive Bengalis he has ever known were the Bangladesh Rifles (BDR). The comment came in the wake of border skirmishes with Indian forces but it came true with the past week’s incidents.

The BDR men mutinied against the administration over many grievances they have. They are made to do many jobs outside border areas and aren’t well paid. Their officers are mainly deputed from the army who are a bit more aggressive than required for paramilitary forces and treat them like lowly men. So the BDR seized their headquarters to negotiate with the government. After the negotiations were over, the skeletons started coming out. Many mass graves were discovered inside the premises of BDR headquarters and the dead were the top ranking officers including their Chief and his wife. Many mutilated bodies have been discovered from the drains. Not just inhumanly, these acts of aggression take away the honour that they deserve as a military force.

The administration with the help of the army has vowed to punish the guilty and has arrested around 300 BDR men. But the startling thing is that there were 9000 men who had entered the premises and are currently on the run.

What I deduce from the events is that savage aggression never works. It needs an intelligent brain as a guide. How could they think that they would get away by killing their Chief unless they take total control of the country!

Whatever has happened is a result of ugly disposition and should be condemned with strong words. In a country which has a long history of mutinies and coups, it will become difficult for the administration to check such events in future.