I had never thought my parents would be the type to be swayed by superstition. They had always seemed logical and reasonable people who disliked superstition. However, when an acquaintance of my father told him my name had a terrible meaning and that it could negatively influence my life, , he suddenly set aside his usual disregard for superstition. 'What if it was true?' he thought. Despite his reason protesting against this intrusive thought, he couldn’t help but wonder.

Promptly after that encounter, my father decided to change my name and actually followed through with the process. Because I was 8 years old at that time, there were no legal complexities, and it was more or less a straightforward process. While many of you might think my life turned upside down at that time, I had grown accustomed to my name, that was not the case. My school friends, teachers, relatives, and even my parents kept calling me by my former name. Therefore, I did not feel even the slightest bit of change in my day-to-day life. However, this event was like an avalanche, stopped momentarily in its tracks yet, waiting to rain down upon me with full force. And it rained down upon me when I entered high school.

In that new school, my teachers, classmates, and virtually everyone outside of my home started calling me a foreign name. This was one of the most mind-bending experiences I will ever have. It felt like a prank that seemed to drag on for eternity. Responding to someone who addressing you by a stranger’s name is an indescribable experience. 

Even more unsettling, perhaps, was the contrast I was confronted with upon setting foot in my house. My parents, at that time, still called me by my former name. It was like living a dual life—one in school and one at home; however, the only difference between the two was the name people associated with me. I was suddenly struck by the realization that we never truly appreciate the significance of our names—how they tie to our identity and make us whole as an individual. Shakespeare might have confidently proclaimed, “What's in a name?” but I think the personal value of a name to an individual cannot be disregarded.  

Realizing this, I felt even more alienated as I felt that I had lost a part of myself when my name was changed. A part that could never come back. However, I discovered there was now room for a new me, one I could shape on my own. The new name meant infinite possibilities and opportunities; It was a chance for me to mould myself how I saw fit. This change of perspective led me to embrace my new name as the current me and my old name as me in the past. Now, I think of this as an opportunity to change myself for the better as the new name has presented me with a blank canvas waiting to be filled. 

Names are an indistinguishable part of our identity as individuals and in this way, I reclaimed my identity even after it was stolen from me.