What’s in a name?

Parsis are a fun loving race and believe in moj, masti, majja and koila ghéla gaanda (fun and frolic and ludicrous humor).

Every so called ‘colony boy’ often has a funny suffix to his name which gives him a sense of belonging to his ‘gang,’ baug and community.

A Soli would be a ‘Soli sali-boti (popular dish of chips and meat).’

A Minoo is either a ‘Minoo machhar (mosquito)’ or a ‘Minoo makori (ant).’

We knew a Minoo who actually kept a rooster (margho) as a pet and every evening he would take his margho on a leash for a walk around the lawns of Cusrow Baug. Such are the eccentricities of some of us! He was christened ‘Minoo marghee-chor.’ By the way, any guy who is usually seen with a group of girls is nicknamed a ‘margho.’

Percy would usually be ‘Percy papau (papaya, with a stereotype wisecrack... ‘Tané bè bairee apao (I will get you two wives).’ He may also be labeled ‘Percy popat (parrot, never mind that the friends naming him have bigger and longer Parsi noses themselves). If our Percy happens to be chubby, cuddly and goro goro (fair), he earns the title ‘doodh pao (milk-bread)!’

I knew a ‘Percy toot.’ How and why he got this epithet no one remembers. Maybe he was fond of playing ‘Chook chook, gaadi (train)’ when he was a kid?

A Kersi is unfailingly a ‘Kersi koilo (rotten).’ If he is always broke, he is crowned ‘Kersi karko.’ If he tries to make money on the side, he would become ‘Kersi karoodas;’ if he talks too much or has sad stories to tell, he is ‘Kersi kaklaat.’ If he shows disapproval of these pseudonyms, he is admonished as ‘Kersi kunjro!’ Poor guy has little choice but to accept this fair game with an amused expression.

An unhappy Dorab is ‘Dorab dookhi.’

Tehmul is always a ‘Tehmul turioo (snake gourd)’ or ‘Tehmul titori (lentils),’ unless he has some vocal defect — then he is elevated to ‘Tehmul totro.’ If he is the colony pass time, he is either ‘Tehmul time-pass’ or ‘Tehmul tapori.’ When the poor guy starts to lose his hair, he regresses to ‘Tehmul takloo!’

Bomi, if he is tall and skinny, is labeled ‘Bomi boomlo (Bombay duck).’ If he doesn’t measure up in height, he is dubbed ‘Bomi batko!’ If he is a sucker for punishment, he is ‘Bomi bakro.’

Framroze becomes ‘Fali faltoo (idle),’ or ‘Fali fatkélo (slapped) and Farokh becomes ‘Farokh fèkoo (fibber).’

Poor Homi evolves into ‘Homi haando (baffoon),’ or even ‘Homa’ or ‘Homo’ with love.

Similarly Mehrwan is transformed with affection to ‘Mehli,’ ‘Mehla,’ ‘Mehlo’ or even ‘Mailoo.’ The latter is usually the word for a stunning girl.

Adi is ‘Adi andoos (custard apple),’ meaning dunce or ‘Adeloo’ with affection. Affability does not forget Cyrus as ‘Cyloo’ either. A lovable Percy is ‘Palloo!’ Doesn’t matter if the add-on reminds you of the ‘loo,’... potty uh?

Nari is invariably ‘Nari norio (mongoose),’ Keki is ‘Kanio (one-eyed),’ Nani is ‘Nankhatai (cheap).’ Eruch would be ‘Eruch elchi (cardamom).’

Poor Noshir is routinely ‘Noshir naachando,’ meaning a flirt — even if he nervously shies away from girls!

Behram, even if he has, as we say ‘kasaari naa kaan (sharp ears)’ is invariably ‘Behram behro (deaf).’

I have a friend who is a delight to be with, but surprisingly due to the perpetual grin on his face he is labeled ‘Hasti raan (happy prostitute).’ That is strange! But it’s funny, and that’s the whole idea!

Jehangir is ‘Jangu’ with savor or ‘Jingoo’ if he is small built.

Dara with a paunch who loves food (like every other Parsi) is fondly nicknamed ‘Dara dukkar (pig)!’ In case he is dark in complexion, he may be called ‘Dara doobro (outcaste).’

A Mehernosh is a ‘maaro Mehernu,’ to his doting wife.

Ratan with a problem is ‘Ratan rarto’ and Rusi, if he takes offense, is ‘Rusi rari paroo.’

Anyone with a funny hair style has a ‘tapeli (utensil)’ cut.

Names like ‘Happy,’ ‘Jolly’ and ‘Lovely’ given to a baby remain a part of the baby’s identity for life.

In short there is no escaping the quip, the banter and the tease... but, all in good humor — no malice, no ill will ever intended.

However, when these young ‘bawas’ grow into mature, successful and respected citizens, their second names take on a much more decorous and worthy character. Noshir or Nasli is moved up to Nassarwanji or Noshirwan or even Noshirwan E Adil. Rusi rises to Rustomjee or ‘Mota Rustom.’ Nadir elevates to Nadirshaw and Homi becomes Hormuzdjee, Aspi, an Aspandiar. Soli is promoted to Soli Seth or Sohrabjee. Dara may have doubled his size with age but he is now Darashaw and not ‘Dara dukkar’ any more.

Nari becomes Nariman, Pesi is Pestonjee and Keki, Kaikhushroo. Dhun with fondness generally is ‘Dhunjoo,’ and with age becomes Dhunjeeshaw. Minoo is now risen to Minocher.

Fortuitously, with due respect, Parsi girls almost never ever have a second name in jest. That I think is truly admirable!

We Parsis believe there is humor in everything around us. It depends on how we look at life! If someone calls us ‘Bawaji,’ we don’t get mad, we enjoy it. So, with a Parsi peg — Chaalo salaamati laiyé (let’s toast) — Parsi taru naam amar rahé (may the Parsi name be immortalized).

NOSHIR SANJANA