What’s in a name, they ask? A lot, I say. P.S.: Yes, this is an old-ish (yet, younger) pic of thee.
When I made Aliyah, people here had such a rough time, pronouncing my name. It was at the same time, frustrating and hilarious. Linguistically stuck, I would ‘hand-sign’ my name, pointing to the almost-there dip in my cheek. I felt invisible & yet exposed.
I would kvetch and rant about it to my family. I thought, what about giving myself a ‘name lift’? With my fascination for the French language and all that comes with it, wanted something easy and French-ly. Danielle (pronounced very French-ly) was chosen, and I ‘name-lifted’ myself. And obviously, it took some time getting used to it. Then again, rather this, than a mispronounced, incomprehensible, unknown name.
There was a divide, though, due to this. On one side, were people who liked it & applauded me for it, and the other side, were people who questioned it, of course. I got confrontational many a times, and many a times, I gave them my reasoning. And then just like that, it clicked. Just like, with my fascination of sarees. This is my name. This is my identity. What all would I have to change to make it easier for someone else? This is me. I am Dimple.
Dimple. A name my parents (my dad’s idea, in fact) blessed me with. A name that makes me smile, when I say it. A name that brings a curious wonder in most minds. A name that once explained, makes them smile.
All over, people come from varied backgrounds, cultures, languages. With all this comes distinctiveness. So many differences & yet a name, is the first connection. When we are born, the association has begun. A union with you has begun. Your name says it all and more.
And so, off I went and reverted to my name. The name I have always loved. Yes, my name is Dimple. What’s your name & what’s your story?
Vagabond Rootz 