I have a proper name like any other humans do, both formal and informal. I wouldn’t mind if I’m called either way. But what is there in the name? For me it simply signifies my identity to which I’m bound to respond the moment someone sends in a stimulus. Almost every day, I hear my names (both formal and informal) being called in different tones and shapes. I’m used to it right from the day I was named that way. If my name is called from east I look east and if it comes from west, I turn west. This is how God wanted it to be; this is how I’m known to the society; and this is how I would love to hear.
My parents call me by my name and my relatives too. My friends call me by either of my names, but there is one person in my life, who still doesn’t know my name. With passage of time and repeated hearings, I’m now accustomed to it. I’ve a third name now.
“Oie” if shouted in the jungles, is meant to scare away wilds. “Oie” if shouted along with the name, is meant to call a person far away. Low toned “Oie” if used in homes, is meant to draw attention of someone nearby. But “Oie” definitely is not the name of a person. That much I’m assured.
As the tenth year of our marriage dawns, my wife still doesn’t know my name. May be I didn’t tell her my name, when we first got introduced. Maybe she is deaf to hear my names being called by others who know it, or, maybe she is blind to read out my names on books. Nope! She heard it others say. She read it on my books. She does know my name but she doesn’t like it to be called. That’s how I landed up being called “Oie” and not my real name. My dear wife calls me by “Oie”. It surely should be dear to my ears as it is dear to her lips. I long for a magical spell to strike her beautiful lips and make her spell out my real name. Then only shall I feel like her real soul mate and not just mere husband.
May be she doesn’t love my name. But she does love me truly, that none could contradict. I’m fine with that, as long as she loves me. Just as I was about to wrap up this piece of mine,
Oie! She calls me again.
I send her an annoyed look. She smiles and says “I prepared Sikam for dinner and it’s ready.” She knows my favorite dish. In a fraction of seconds, my annoyed look gets converted to a wrinkly smile, to which she is very much fond of. This is why I love her, whatever names she may call me.