Lots in a name, even more in a surname

There’s lots in a name and even more in a surname. Most Gandhis, Modis and Yadavs will agree. Gandhis thanks to the Congress first family and the Mahatma; Modis thanks to Narendrabhai, Nirav and Lalit; and Yadavs thanks to the likes of Lalu, Mulayam, Sharad and DP.

A famous surname can queer the pitch for its not-so-famous bearers. Being a Modi these days, can put many a Modi in a spot.

Back in my younger days when Yadav was a name to reckon with in the national political scene, I was often asked, “Are you related to Lalu or Mulayam?” “Neither,” I’d say. But that wasn’t enough for friends who would still make fun and curious colleagues who would prod on and ask, “So, if you’re not from Bihar or Uttar Pradesh, you’re a Yadav from…?” “Haryana,” I’d say, hoping to find acceptability and blend in.

Being the daughter of an army doctor who was posted across the length and breadth of the country besides a stint in Zambia, I often found myself answering the “where are you from” question.

Four decades ago, while being admitted to a school in Mufulira, a town in Copperbelt province, I was automatically christened with the surname Patel because the school authorities presumed all Indian students were named as such given the thriving Gujarati population in the African country.

My first name fetches me a compliment once in a while but the surname has almost always won me a smile, a second look and even a best friend. When I was studying in Pune, a classmate with the similar sounding surname of Jadhav became my best friend. We were up to some mischief or the other. She taught me to break tamarinds from the window when chemistry class was in progress and to enjoy guavas lined with salt and chilli powder when the rest of the students snoozed through the history lesson. Our grades went down but our spirits were high.

There have been Yadav colleagues and acquiantances who have gone out of their way to help only because of the surname. A competent systems engineer, an ever-helpful HR manager in the previous organisation, the enthusiastic assistant tennis coach at my son’s school, the courteous accountant and even the polite bus conductor would ensure a smooth ride.

While I was working as a journalist in Ahmedabad over a decade ago, I was asked if Yadavs were Punjabis, given my well-built frame. “Kevun caste che? (What is your caste)?” the neighbour wanted to know.

“Yadavs are North Indians but not from Punjab. They thrive in the cow belt from Haryana to Bihar. Perhaps, that’s my caste,” I replied equally unsure. “Yes, Yaduvanshis are descendants of Lord Krishna,” she nodded wisely. “You must visit Krishna’s karmbhoomi at Dwarka,” she added.

Then a few days ago, a guest at a wedding asked, “Are you from the South? But there are no Yadavs down there?” “Yes, partly,” I replied before the music drowned out the rest of the conversation. I smiled as I was reminded of my Yadav dad standing out in a crisp white kurta-pyjama amid his Nair brothers-in-law in Kerala mundus (dhotis) in a family photo taken back in the ’80s.

What I wanted to share with the guest was that I may be a Yadav with a mixed lineage but I prefer to be called an Indian rather than a Haryanvi, Up’ite or Malayalee because that’s where I belong.

A FAMOUS SURNAME CAN QUEER THE PITCH FOR ITS NOTSOFAMOUS BEARERS. BEING A MODI THESE DAYS, CAN PUT MANY A MODI IN A SPOT