What’s In A Name?
Once I graduated college, I changed my name from Maddie to Madeline across all social media. Like a kid trying on a t-shirt that was once too big, I slipped on Madeline, hoping to find that it finally fit, but there’s still a bit of wiggle room.
I’ve never connected to Madeline. It’s a beautiful name, but Madeline possesses an elegance that I have yet to achieve. Madeline wears pearls and pastels. Madeline doesn’t have darkened knees from falling down and can wear white without fear. Madeline flows better out of employers mouths. While Maddie is their five year old daughter in daycare, Madeline can hold down a nine to five job. Madeline circles back, follows-up, reconfirms, and claims to have “no worries” when presented with any professional problem.
Despite Madeline’s reliability, I’ve always gravitated towards Maddie. Maddie loves cartoons and jumpsuits. She sang songs about her pet pug. Maddie sympathy cries and has food in her hair. Her friendly talkative nature derives from her anxiety over awkward pauses rather than a natural ability for small talk . Maddie picks her fingernails until they bleed, but you would find “Madeline” under reservations at the manicurist.
In sixth grade, I changed schools and wanted a fresh start. My twelve-year-old self took a chance and introduced herself as Maddie with an “ie” instead of a “y”. My boldness receded when I would receive letters from family members addressed to “Maddy”. Maddie has the courage to change the spelling of her name but wouldn’t dare correct anyone. This spur of the moment decision made in the back of a science classroom would be the name that I would introduce myself as to my future fiancé. It would be the name that he would engrave into his wedding band.
Then Bhaskar comes in. The silent “h” that strikes fear into every graduation announcer or any teacher at roll call. A name so feared that teachers would write “Nascar” or “Bass — Car” next to it as a phonetical device because simply remembering was not possible. What makes this name even more interesting is it can be a first or a last name. In South India, the first name and last name are switched — family name first followed by your given name. If identifying Indian relatives wasn’t hard enough, my great grandfather switched it around. My family’s last name was originally meant to be Abraham, but when it switched to a first name it got lost in the shuffle. When asked about why my great grandfather changed our last name, my grandfather offered a shrug. So that’s what I offer you. *shrugs*.
I’ve grown in appreciation for Bhaskar. What once was a perceived cacophony of s’s and k’s behind my flowing french first name became my tether to my Indian side. Whenever questioned about my ethnicity, Bhaskar acted as my key witness. Bhaskar made me feel better about not knowing Spanish when abuelas would ask for my help in grocery stores. Bhaskar is also unique; if you type in “Madeline Bhaskar” into Google I’ll be on your first page of results. Bhaskar has meaning. In Tamil, the name means sun. The same sun that peaked through the Seattle clouds during my grandfather’s funeral.
With my recent engagement, soon Bhaskar will become Cervantes. There’s new discussions now about last names and marriage, but I like the idea of taking my husband’s last name. I love the idea of someone referring to us as “The Cervantes”. It also helps that Cervantes is a beautiful classic Spanish name that flows off the tongue . However, I fear that without Bhaskar, I will lose my key witness. The only piece of evidence that I can present to the court is a photo of my family with my clearly Indian father. Though, I wonder if Cervantes will stop the interrogation altogether. Tan skin + dark features + Cervantes = Mexican or Latina or Guatemalan for some weirdly specific reason. Case closed. Person categorized. Let’s go get brunch.
Some suggest that I could hyphenate to Bhaskar-Cervantes, but it’s just too much going on. It’s Priyanka Chopra-Jonas and not Priyanka Chopra-Iglesias for a reason, you know? Paneer and cotija cheese mixed together sound delicious but it’s simply too much cheese. I imagine the interrogation could become even more complicated, and I’d rather not have to squeeze that name onto a passport.
My fiancé and I decided that I would legally change my name to Madeline Cervantes, but keep Madeline Bhaskar professionally. The person at the bank will know me as Madeline Cervantes, while my boss will call me Madeline Bhaskar. Friends at work will call me Maddie Bhaskar, and my husband will grow to know me as Maddie Cervantes. I could make things simple with one name, but I like the different shades. So what’s in a name? That which we call “Maddie” by any other name would still be as klutzy.
