Great games when nicknames turn sticknames
Gaston de Rosayro
I do not know why, but I have always had an incurable inclination to
confer nicknames. My fascination for conjuring up monikers goes back to
the time when I was barely in the stages of baby babble. And come to
think of it that was a heck of a long time ago.
But to be precise I have a knack of labeling them or rather branding
them with a name that would stick. Yes stick, in the same vein as stuck.
Family legend has it that I had taken an intense dislike to a stand-in
ayah named Ramani. The new retainer who was substituting for my regular
nanny, Alice complained frequently that I would retain a large blob of
milk in my mouth.
Romany claimed that I would intentionally spew it all over her, grin
devilishly and scream "Vamani, Vamani" (vomit). No one could allay her
suspicions that it was not done deliberately. She refused to believe
that the mangling of her name from Ramani to Vamani was faulty baby
lisping, consisting of imperfect pronunciation of the 'r' sound. She
insisted that I was quite aware that 'Vamani' was the Sinhala equivalent
of puking. Needless to say the name stuck and the whole household began
calling her 'Vamani.'
Nicknames, although established as forms of endearment or
sweet-nothings, can cause some serious damage as you grow up and as you
can see when you have grown up as well.
The pet name for my much-loved cousin Russel is 'Bambi.' Russel is
never embarrassed by it. Indeed, he rather fancies his pet sobriquet and
insists that he be introduced as 'Bambi.' Imagine this lanky personality
with a benign smile striding into a party. You wait to be introduced to
the distinguished-looking personage.
Then suddenly one of the family members steps into the company and
introduces you to Bambi. If I were to mention his real name Russel to my
wife or any other family member they would turn around non-plussed and
ask: "Who? Russel who?" Russel being the loftiest of the De Rosayro
clansmen I twisted the pet appellation from 'Bambi' to "Bumbu' as in
Bamboo.
Nicknames are forms of endearments, special to each household and
family. The pet names do not have to make sense and are more often than
not sources of amusement to outsiders. But they are very special in the
warm circle of love the family has built around the person.
My fascination for name-calling has had many in the throes of
side-splitting laughter. I thrust many on my schoolmates and colleagues.
We may have missed out on some, deliberately perhaps, because they
would sound sacrilegious in a family newspaper. I admit some of them may
not have been very charitable but you must concede they are rather
ingeniously inventive.
Now names and nicknames are said to have a powerful influence on our
lives. I am not really talking about computer nicknames or even stupid
DJ handles. I am talking about the colourful nicknames given by friends,
family or colleagues.
I am referring to names that seem to describe looks or personality
such as Shorty, Lofty, Bubsy, Shotgun, Popgun or Grumpy. Some of the
more colourful Sinhala ones that come to mind are Bimba, Gemba, Bamuna,
Pumbert, Gajja, Bolaya and Brumpy.
These nicknames have more individuality than real names, which often
come from literature, favourite movie stars, or rich relatives whom
parents wanted to flatter.
Now some purists will tell you such names are not nicknames at all,
but 'pet names.'Nicknames, they say, are those that are a shortened
version of a real name or derived from the original given name.
Some American media men called Britain's most blue-blooded male
'Prince Chuck.'The moniker Chuck stuck particularly because the heir to
the British throne is a pukkah polo player and pursues the chukka with
an astonishing degree of derring-do.
In case you have to be reminded Prince Chuck is better known to the
younger generation as the man who married Diana Spencer. This sort of
nickname makes sense, in a way. For instance calling a person Beth
instead of Elizabeth is much quicker and easier than saying the entire
name. But that is decidedly not a good enough signature for royalty.
Now Chuck's mum, who his grandmother called 'Lilibeth,'is renowned
for kicking off every speech in her cut-glass accent with her
characteristic phrase: "My husband and I...." Now come to think of it
her Prince Consort Philip was dubbed by the British public as 'Phil the
Greek.'
A former Sri Lankan prime minister during the couple's royal visit in
the fifties is said to have commanded his private secretary to escort
Prince Philip to the well-stocked bar: "I say, make sure that chap has a
good drink."The private secretary queried: "Who Sir? What chap?" The PM
answered curtly: "That Philippuwa Parippuwa chap who is always one step
behind the Queen."
I have never quite figured out some nicknames, though. Bob for Robert
or Rita for Margaret makes a little bit of sense.But imagine Dick for
Richard or Willy for William (chikeyya!) might sound suggestive in the
modern context.
But some names are too irresistibly appealing to be left alone. There
was this pint-sized Australian journalist copy editor I worked with in
Hong Kong named Willy Koch.
Unfortunately there was another hulking feature writer named Willy
Sims in the same newsroom. Everyone called Sims 'Big Willy'. But no one
ever dared call the feisty Willy Koch, 'Wee Willy.'
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