WHAT'S IN A NAME...!?

My family lovingly gave me my name like everyone else’s. They swear it was the “Yo” kind of a name back then. Every actor of the Hindi film industry wanted the love-smitten actresses caress this name with their super-glossy lips.

Be it the ever-fluttering-lip-smacking, Dev Anand, lovelorn Rajesh Khanna or any other Tom, Dharmendra and Hari, everyone wanted this name and I was unknowingly dragged into this melodramatic list.


Did anyone have the faintest knowledge of the open-fly consequences? Maybe not. Things started to go not so easy for some of those guys on the silver screen and they blamed me for their shortcomings.

My name lost its initial appeal and charm and was thrown to the “extras” of the film industry for more astounding ones as Ravi, Veeru or even Kalia!

And the name ever so lovingly everyone called me at, was entrusted to pimps who hung out wearing unattractive feathered hats, outside dingy brothels playing loud music and smoked Bidis stashed in their pinkies.

Dhoti-clad scheming Munshis carrying umbrellas tucked under the shoulder and limping behind rapist Zamindars.

Failed touts who always got their collars ruffled long before the end of the movie. Cheats who got chased through the lanes and alleys of India by the public.

The actors and actresses' lipstick-wearing pals, who had no role but crack occasional dead jokes - you name it and out popped a Raju.

Well even the poor animals were not spared and Raju was named to a Monkey, a Falcon, a Snake, a Mongoose, all with venom, you’d say. And the Raju I was, almost wondered how to cope up with the different characters and creatures.

One day someone called at Raju with the Dev Aanand air and the next time called Raju the Horse, unhappily. And every time Raju – need I mention, the child who had no business in this name game – reciprocated to these calls unwillingly.


Then for a brief period a pause… but, out emerged Shah Rukh Khan with a vengeance bursting film posters with his goody-goody image using my name notoriously all over again.


Again songs started to flow and Raju was in praise, in love, in heartbreaks, just like previously. I was again part of a teenage girl’s love, a struggling educated unemployed youth, or an angry man trying to set the Universe right.

A lady hummed a song and repeated my name each time she flapped her fat-promiscuous husband’s wet shirt on the terrace before she stringed it. A dreamy-eyed girl sighed at my name sitting on the stairs.

This violated my space, my peace from rooftops, radios, freak shows, TV channels, everywhere. I was popular again sometimes for the wrong reasons or the right causes and knew having no hand in it whatsoever. Except for those who long ago whispered Raju into my new unpolluted world.

I recall my teacher asking in the class whose quote is it: “What’s in a name…,” I punched my hand in the air, before she could breathe out the entire piece, as I was dead sure it was Shakespeare…

What’s in a name!? Ask that old Viagra-chewing hag on a business trip stranded in the airport with his voluptuous secretary. Him, trying to honestly explain to his suspecting wife that volcanic ash from Mount Eyjafjallajökull at Eyjafjöll in Iceland has disrupted flight.

“Mount what…? Now William dear can you get over with your f***** up creative bull**** and get your bearings right.”

Hey mister/missy, I lost my bearings long long time ago amongst different characters and creatures, thanks to Bollywood and its obsession with my name and remain stranded in Evenmöreöbscuredeyjafjallajökull.