What is in a name? Trust me, I know.

It started in school, at an age when little ladies would seat themselves separately from the young gentlemen. At the beginning of every academic year, the new Class-teacher would call my name, and look expectantly towards the rows of young men. It only got worse in college- professors changed every semester, and attendance was called in every class. The range of emotions demonstrated by my school teachers, lecturers and professors followed a predictable pattern:

Calling out the name just before mine….bored with a mundane task

While reading my name….doubt and a pause to convince themselves that they were reading the name right

Immediately after calling out my name)….curiosity to put a face to the name, looking expectantly at the general area with the most gentlemen in class

Upon hearing my voice and seeing me stand up)….surprise, lots of amusement, the seeds of a smart comment sometimes brought to fruition, a quick moving on to the next name while giving me one last look.

So, that routine made me a ‘noted’ student, and ensured that I had to be present in class to actually get attendance, unlike some of the Amits, Srinivas-es, and Ravis I know.

You would think that was bad (or good) enough, but wait. It has worsened since I started working. My then-startup company must have been glad for a secret cost cutting tool:

My phone: ringtone, ringtone…ringtone, ringtone…

Me: Hello, this is Shree.

(Office colleagues start snickering in anticipation already.)

Caller: Can I speak to Mr. Shree Ravindranath please?

Me: Speaking, this is Shree Ravindranath.

Caller: No, I want to speak to Mr. Shree Ravindranath.

Me: (quite visibly miffed) My name is Shree, my father’s is Ravindranath. I think it is me you want on the line, not my father.

(Colleagues start to roll on the floor, screeching with laughter and with tears in their eyes, thus saving the company the cost of hiring a cleaning agency.)

There was more that my office gained. In order to reduce time spent on explanations, took to signing my emails thus - ‘Shree Ravindranath (Ms.) ‘. This added to my colleagues’ glee, thus increasing their productivity because of the fun element. Now I have a backup career plan in case I am unable to win the Booker- as a cost and productivity consultant for startups.

Just as I thought I had internalized my predicament, something happened that has left me quite distressed, and entirely questioning of my status as an independent woman.

I received a consignment of some stuff from a faraway place. Being the busy professional that I am, I sent my office boy to pick it up, taking care to give him all the consignment details and an original photo ID of mine. After waiting for about six hours, I received a call from the transport company:

Transport Company (TC): Can I speak to Mr. Shree Ravindranath please? Etc.

Me: (strong sense of déjà vu, and after the usual clarification) Can you please release my consignment? I’ve been waiting for it since morning.

TC: Madam, we would be happy to release it, but the consignment is addressed to ‘Shree Ravindranath’, while your ID proof says, ‘Shree R’.

Me: Yes, the initial R in the document is for Ravindranath. My name is Shree, my father’s is Ravindranath. I assure you I am the right person.

TC: Madam, we are very sorry, but we can’t release the consignment with this ID proof. We need something that says ‘Ravindranath’. Can you send us your father’s ID?

My family now says I should try other permutations of my name. With a stitch in their side, they call me ‘Shrimati Shree’. Some are going so far as to request a name change- ‘Shrimati Shrimati’ is apparently funnier. Also, I have been advised that, were I to take on my husband’s name, my name would sound like that of a religious guru- ‘Shree Soami’, and so on it goes.

Would I rather have a regular name, or is it better to make a mark while being constantly ribbed? Ancient wisdom says one should try and be a person of repute by any means-‘Yena kenaapi upayena prasiddha: purusho bhava’.

I insist on keeping the name I was given.