By Angomcha Bimol Akoijam
‘What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet’ so says Juliet in Shakespeare’s classic Romeo and Juliet. It is a statement of seeking, if I may say so, the ‘essence’ of ‘things’. And name doesn’t matter in that enterprise. However, there is an old Chinese saying, ‘The beginning of wisdom is to call things by their right names.’ Here, the belief is that naming is a way of acknowledging a ‘thing’, which implicates an awareness of the essence of the ‘thing’ in question. Of course, which of the two comes first — the name or the essence — could very well become polemical and even lead us to solipsism. It’s quite possible that some might say that the issue is ‘theoretical’ or ‘academic’ and does not have whatsoever relevance for our ‘practical life’. But think of this, should ‘Manipur’ be called ‘Kangleipak’ or ‘India’ be called ‘Hindustan’ or should it be ‘Nagaland’ or ‘Nagalim’? Or for that matter, should it be ‘Kolkata’ for ‘Calcutta’ or ‘Trivandrum’ for Thiruvananthapuram or ‘Chennai’ for ‘Madras’ or ‘Bengaluru’ for ‘Bangalore’? These are issues that have, as we know, ‘practical’ implications. Indeed, it seems there is something about ‘name’ or ‘naming’.
Meitei Name: Personal Becomes Political
Even at a personal domain, such issues of name or naming do come up. I am aware of the fact that I have a name, a ‘Hindu’ or as some would say, ‘Mayang’ name. Strange as it seems, when I came under the influence of, for the want of a better expression, ‘Meitei Revivalism’, the name didn’t bother me much as such but the caste name ‘Singh’ was; I found it pretty problematic. Hence, I had substituted it by the expression ‘Angomcha’ while I was still in High School. Obviously, it’s a personal choice that smacks of a political tinge. Incidentally, I began to find my name (i.e., ‘Bimol’) ‘problematic’ when I went out of my home state for my further education. Given the then ‘jarring effect’ that the name seemed to produce vis-à-vis my ‘looks’ (or physical feature) amongst friends, both Indians and foreigners — a response that often came up with a curious question of ‘you Indian?’, I began to use a ‘western sounding name’, AB or Abbey (much before, perhaps, this thinge called ‘Abby Baby’ for the Big B became popular). In fact, I became so used to this name, some of my best friends still call me by that name, that I have this emotion which I don’t get when people call me ‘Bimol’ when they do so even today; I even use it when I write poems. In short, these experience of naming or name has lots to do with my personal experiences of my life as a person, as an individual as well as someone who belong to a collective etc. In that, name or naming is a personal act which is simultaneously deeply political.
The same issue struck me when I had to name my daughter. There has been a trend amongst new generations of parents from Manipur: they often choose a ‘traditional’ Manipuri name rather than those which is derived, say from Sanskrit or Hindi or ‘Western’ names. I have named her ‘Puyanu’ which is derived from two root words, ‘puya’ (i.e., ancient texts of Manipur) and ‘nu’ (for woman/female/girl). I called her so as I want her to remember her ‘roots’, even though she is born in Delhi (despite my intention and making plan for her arrival in Manipur). Puyanu, a lady who knows her moorings, ancestors and their ethos, that’s a name which is driven by a politically and culturally rooted personal decision. It will be an act of dishonesty if I do not say that this act, which many Manipuris of my generations share, is a personal act which is often a political act as well.
It is, to my understanding, a cultural shift as well. Of course, there is no one way in these shifts. For instance, it is not uncommon to see girls of younger generation of Meitei Bamons writing ‘Sharma’ rather than ‘Devi’. Or the influence of writing family surname (like I do, although for reasons of convenience and assertion of an identity) after the first name. But the fact is, generations of my grandfather and father would invariably choose a name which is what we call ‘Hindu’ or ‘Mayang’ name today. Thus, my father named me after a well-known filmmaker Bimal Roy (incidentally, he gave names to my two elder brothers with ‘western’ names after some well-known figures from Western History, which he used to teach as a college lecturer while I as well as my younger brother ‘Hindu’ names). Frankly, I have no issues with my name which my father gave me. In a sense, there is also a personal behind the political which makes one what one is in life. On the hindsight, I must confess that, whether it is rationalization or not, I do believe that what I am today has lots in synch with the significance of my father’s choice and the meaning that the name carries. I hope, my daughter does the same, and as psychological studies suggest, name does have an impact on one’s life.
Collective Origin of Self
Incidentally, while still in high school, I chose to change my name after reading a text, ‘Adungeigi Kangleipak Manipur Natte’ (The then Kangleipak is not Manipur) by Kangjia Gopal. I was in class eight then. In that, self has, as some psychologists and sociologists insist, a ‘social origin’. Incidentally, I even wrote my first article in media in early 1980s called ‘kangleipak amasung Kangleichagi Wakhallon sagatpa Fei’, which was published in a monthly called ‘Lanmei Thanbi’ (edited by tamo Sanabam Raghumani, if I remember correctly, first holder of Ph.D. in Law amongst the Manipuris; he did his Ph.D. from Kurukshetra University). It was a spirit that was deeply rooted in a collective experience of a time, even while, I believe, the expression might have nuances of a personal take on the issue of a public kind.
To think of it, nationalists in South Asia did insist that before the Westerners called ‘India’, this palce has been known as ‘Bharatvarsha’. It was a political act and many individual selves had been perceptibly shaped by the spirit of the times. Of course, that recovery (through ‘discovery’ or ‘invention’ of selves) might implicate a ‘loss of self’ as the non-modernist postcolonial writer Ashis Nandy has insisted. It can be true for our parts of the world as well, both for the individual and the collective. In short, there is a close connection between the individual and the collective.
In this sense, there is a need to sense one’s individuality vis-à-vis the collective, and the historicity of the reality within which the dynamics between the two has been shaped. That’s the foundation of one’s existence, an awareness that informs the ‘I’ and the ‘Collective’. If one is not aware of this dynamics, there is the possibility of ‘alienated individual’ who insists on the imperatives of talking about ‘we’ as a defense of her/his individual alienation, which can subvert both the individual and the collective. In short, self awareness demands a sense of the historicity of one’s ‘being-in-the-world’. And, a revolutionary shift from the ‘class-in-itself’ to the ‘class-for-itself’ can only truly happens with such a consciousness of a self.
Indeed, knowledge that is not tested or thought through one’s own experience as a ‘self’ within the matrix of its ‘social origin’ is bound to be derivative and shallow. I hope my daughter remembers this for I know her generation, where ever they are, and their acts will have lots to do with the way they grapple with the facts of what Manipur has been and what it will be in their times and afterwards. Naming is, in that sense, an act of seeking an essence to be ‘pursued’ and ‘created’. And one of the essences should be to seek a life with dignity and well-being.