Naamkoron-er Sharthokota

what were my parents thinking when they named me 'Doyeeta'? doyeeta is so not me...
for the past 21 years, whenever i said my name is doyeeta, the other person inevitably said, "what? joyeeta?", and i replied "no, d as in delhi". my parents tell me when i was a kid, i used to get so pissed that i looked the other way when anybody asked me my name.
well, it did have the merit of being uncommon, but even that illusion was soon destroyed! there was another 'doita' in my school, in my own class, who then went on to become one of my closest friends.
with every passing day i hated my name even more. in class IX i read a seedy novel by suchitra bhattacharya, the protagonist was called 'doyeeta'. she was [ i then thought] a very immoral and horrible woman, because she slept with her fifty year old, married professor. (now i know Ms.bhattacharya was merely, in the time honoured manner of vaalmiki, writing the ramayana before the birth of ram!!)
it was when i entered college and people asked me the meaning of my name that i realised fully what a curse this name was. whenever i said 'doyeeta' means beloved/lover/darling, i was answered by smirks, sniggers or raised eyebrows (not unsurprisingly!)
doyeeta is a nyaka girl's name for chrissake, its a sissy name, with no fizz, no gumption, no...no force...on top of that its pretentious, there are some who insist on calling me "doi" which makes me want to vomit on their faces. aaaaaRGGGGHHH.
come to think of it, my friends' names are no better. i have a friend called suchismita, their is nothing suchi about her smile, indeed she rarely smiles. she guffaws in a most unladylike fashion from time to time. she should have been called "pigface" or "mem boroni debi"..but i suppose its too late now.
then there is laddoo, whose real name, believe it or not, is debarshi kumar banerjee. his grandmother ( may she rest in peace) was obviously not in her right mind. there is a narod-like side to him, i will not deny that. but debarshi kumar banerjee? a 23 year old alcoholic who has hair like...like jimi hendrix??
take shonai, who is called sayantani, which is a fat girl's name. a fat ,staid, bespectacled, salwar kameez clad girl's name. not even shonai suits her, she is like this alien from outer space, speaks a language which sounds gibberish to us, frowns and paints naked humans bleeding to death, wears a military print half-pant and a t-shirt with death's head on it, tattoos her own arm with a needle and gel pen...
she is...i mean she should be called milippipping khruk or something like that!!
i have two friends called subhayu. subhayu bhattacharya is the kind of boy our grandfathers or great uncles would immediately label as "kaapten" or "laayek". i mean, ideally his name should have been poltu or tenida! the other one, mukherji, well, he doesn't look a subhayu either, he is so,so...pnaachu!
romyo: his real name is diptarko, people call him romyo, he calls people bhosriwaal. i rest my case.
nandita: she is this wannabe don-type figure, she is not entirely devoid of the nyaka raabindrik shotta her name implies, she even looks like the archetypal boro bou, but stay with her for five days and you wonder why she is called nandita, or her father is called malobika roy, for that matter! she was born to be called mintu. all her role models and neighbours and best friends are called mintu. she says the name mintu like 108 times a day, like horinaam jop.
howlie, also, is called amrita.. (nobody knows by whom!) but if you have even seen her from a distance you know she cannot possibly be anything but howlie.
also, there is basu, whose name is soumyojyoti. he was very soumyojyoti (or nerd-like, kyalane, shaanto shishto) till about age 14. then he developed biceps, beat up people regularly, got stoned, got dumped, and developed some more muscles. he calls himself "the basu"...you know the type...under such circumstances, being called soumyojyoti is as ludicrous as my being called shaantilata, or my mother being called sharmila. (which, incidentally, she is called!)
bimbabati is the only friend i have whose name suits her. its the name of a freak, and she is indeed a freak of nature, unique specimen. the kind who are eventually killed off, preserved in formalin and studied by aspiring doctors.
know how the anabaptists believed in adult baptism(and nudity, among other things!)?? time to think about adult naming ceremonies? eh? like, you choose your name only when its time to enter it in a voting list, until that time you are called young-miss-majumder (the-tall-bespectacled-one-with-a-braid!) or something like that... what say?

et in arcadia ego!

the only place i am truly happy these days is at the chaayer dokaan. on my way back home, i usually spend an hour and a half there, with my friends, singing, talking, smoking and drinking endless cups of tea. and my entire day is now centred around those hours wasted in complete idleness. away from the claustrophobia of home, away from the monotony of JUDE, far, far away from the malicious bitching, the cribbing about each class test and each term paper, and fighting tooth and claw for every hand-out, feeling betrayed, helpless, exploited, bitter, angry. feeling at a loss, directionless, somehow incomplete and inferior. i can't wait to get on the SD4 and get AWAY from all this shit!

yes we bitch at the chaayer dokaan, yes we quarrel, fight and scream our heads off. but there is a sense of security, of being understood for a change, of being accepted. we analyse the genesis of separatism in india, we debate about the concept of nationhood, we deconstruct marx and dissect the gender politics of the institution of marriage and the band politics of glass onion. and then when it gets too heated we talk of cabbages and kings. of the man who fucks his pet buffalo, and of bhola's diary, of mona lisa guest house and shubhayu's growing babai.
then when even that becomes boring we sing songs. and finally, spent we sit. and watch people stumble over the gorto in the pavement in front of us. and laugh like maniacs. have a final chaa and a cigarette. and leave.
that makes me happy more than anything else. i am not worrying about my future,i am not worrying that these guys would turn their faces away when we meet tomorrow. i am happy because i KNOW that tomorrow will be exactly like today. screaming obscenities, hitting each other, bumming fags, planning parties, being politically incorrect and biased and not giving a shit, singing, dancing, constantly passing comments (and judgments) at everybody around us,partying, drinking, puking, loving, hating, bitching, screaming being children, being happy.
and ten years down the line, this is the only thing i will miss, about my college years that is...

this, and the days spent at promod-da's canteen, i suppose it started out at promod-da's canteen,banging the tables and shouting about pluralism and anti-lpg...about IC and SFI (despite the fact that i, being a JUite, could vote for neither..)..but that's a separate story...albeit with the same characters...

in milton's words....

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth,
 Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year!
 My hasting days fly on with full career,
 But my late spring no bud or blossom shew’th1.
Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,
 That I to manhood am arrived so near,
 And inward ripeness doth much less appear,
 That some more timely-happy spirits endu’th2.
Yet, be it less or more, or soon or slow,
 It shall be still in strictest measure even
 To that same lot, however mean or high,
Toward which Time leads me, and the will of
      Heaven;
 All is: if I have grace to use it so,
 As ever in my great Task-Master’s eye
substitute "three and twentieth" with "one and twentieth" and
"manhood" with "womanhood" and you have my life in a nutshell.
i wish i could summon that kind of faith though...fiducia..