As the owner of an uncommon first name, I have had the privilege and sometimes annoyance, of explaining its meaning and the story behind it.
My name has often been misspelled, mispronounced, and even shortened on several occasions. I used to get so uncomfortable that I would just mumble my name or go along with the mispronounced version( It is also the origin story of my inferiority complex).
Once when we had moved to a new place, I fresh faced and all sparkly, went to each of the flats and introduced myself as Madhu ( Honey ).
In the evening, some of the neighbors came over to introduce themselves and asked my mother said Madhu’s whereabouts. I still remember my mother’s alarmed face, she was close to terming the house haunted by the ghost of some Madhu.
Lol. The same evening I received a good hearing on the importance of my name. That was the day I learned of how I came to be named Archita ( means the one should be worshipped in Sanskrit). I was named by my great-grandma, a woman who had a heart of gold. My parents had readily agreed as it rhymed with my elder sister’s name ( Asmita- one’s honor).
Now when I come to think of my reservations with my name, I think I should have reveled in the uniqueness of my name, made it some sort of style statement. But it is never too late.
Fingers in symphony 