Radhansfhwohspzkpbjedjaresh.
That is what people may think my name sounds like – gibberish. That was probably a blessing, but in order to see why, you have to know my origin story first.
My Tatagaru (meaning “grandfather” in Telugu) calls my dad, $5 per minute. “Vasu, I have a question.”
My dad responds, “Tell me, Nanna” (meaning “dad” in Telugu). “Can I name your second kid?”
My dad did not know that was the biggest mistake of all time. Still, he could not sway from such an opportunity. He relentlessly agreed, however, my mother never knew, so of course, a huge argument broke out.
The day I was born, the doctor asked, “So, what do you want to name your child?” My father points to Tatagaru, who said “Radhanaresh – that’s his name.”
“Oh, praise the lord. How do you spell that?”
My parents were stunned. It was a huge name they never expected. Radhanaresh was not a good name; there was no creativity.
Narasimharao is my grandfather’s name and my grandmother’s name is Anuradha. Anuradhanarasimharao does not sound creative. When choosing my name, my grandfather shortened my grandmother’s name to Radha. He shortened his name to Naresh to make himself feel better and put it together. “Radhanaresh! The name of my third grandson,” he must have proudly thought.
Now, my parents expected a better name, but could not go against my father’s promise. However, since we were living in the United States, we had to find a backup name. Then, my dad saw the middle name spot on my birth certificate.
“That’s the backup slot,” my father said.
Tatagaru was very against it. “That is breaking our tradition! Respect my wishes!”
But, my Nanna wrote the middle name to be: Kevin.
Huh? Kevin? But again, it is my white name.”
I lived with it for two years just to move back to India. I stayed for nearly six years, and the teachers would surprisingly get it right 100% of the time. However, my grandfather passed away from Alzheimer’s in 2015. He rarely ever spoke to me, probably due to memory loss, but my father came to the ultimate conclusion that we would move back to the United States. There is no way I got bullied (note the subtle sarcasm).
“What’s up Rudhaneresh?”
“Where did the Kevin part come from?”
“Is Kevin your white name?”
It haunted me, so I went by Kevin until I was in ninth grade. I strayed from my language and culture. I met lots of people with complicated names, such as my best friend The Sidekick staff writer Priyadharshan Selvaraj Prabakaran. Some of my South Indian “brothers” got a huge name.
However, that does not detract from the fact that I did not like my name. Here’s the statistics: I have had 68 teachers pronounce my name wrong. Two got it right on the first try, three on the second and the rest have failed.
For all of you with a long, huge and bombastic first and last name, it is OK. You should never shy away from that. Coming from personal experience, I am honored to have this name. I could have been named Raj, the most stereotypical name for an Indian. Wear the badge with pride, and be grateful to have a huge name.
I mean, that is what this stand-up is for.
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