The question is - was there a need to have pseudonym?
I don’t know. You decide.
I hated it when someone called me Ruby. Somehow the images of ‘Monica, oh my Dahling,” flashed into my inward eye. During my school years, I was pretty fed up when even the Sisters at the Convent started calling my Ruby. What happened to that God Gifted name of mine? My 12 year old mind was sure that it was a pretty sexy name. But it did matter how you said it. I preferred RH..U.. B…I.. N..A..(Please use a damn sexy voice while saying it.)
Of course St.Mary Jude (God rest her blessed soul) refused to do it outright and I think I had to stand outside my class, just for suggesting it. Democracy, in some section of our society, is clearly over-rated.
During my college years, I became Ina. Cool eh! Suited me too, even if I do say so myself. I forbade anyone from calling me Rubina. When asked for a reason, by a bold few, I would mock at their intelligence outright even for asking me this. “Keep it short and sweet babes!” Ah don’t get me wrong. I was not a bully. Just a self-declared busy body who had all the information about who had a boyfriend and who did not. The funny part is – both the sides felt ashamed to declare it and a few of us basked in that knowledge.
As I floated though my college life, brandishing the name Ina as my lucky charm or sword, as the situation demanded, I came to know a few things about our society.
1. When your Mom comes to your college and calls you Pinky in front of all your friends, your reputation goes down the drain.
2. The name does not matter when the results come out – even alphabetically.
Then I met my DH at the age of 16 (hope darling baby of mine is not reading this) and thankfully this passion for changing my name came to a rest as I was busy searching the Oxford dictionary for the synonyms of Dahling. Will share a few winners here.. Shonu, Shona, Babes (please kick the person who calls you that, for he might be a pedophile ...eeeks).
After marriage, my MIL wanted to change my name and amidst strong protests from my parents, they came up with Radhika and Ramya. I was back to square one with Ramya. The song started playing in my mind again. I first put my foot down and then sat on the spot starting a bhookh hartal. The irony of the situation did not leave me. I was fighting for the name I was so busy losing all through my student life.
Of course I won. (Anyone doubted that?)
After a few ..long years I stepped into the virtual world. Blame it on my bro. I wanted to catch his girlfriend and so I entered (if I remember correctly) with the name DragonLady1997. I did catch him and he blamed me always for the girl deleted her account permanently on the reddif. Ah well! Good intentions always come with a price. Anyways I stopped there and then. Not by choice but with hubby coming face to face with Dragon Lady. (I have promised myself not to ever write about that situation. But giving you just a peak.. I had 3 dialogues in that situation..
That day I took a decision. I will not ever be in any situation where my dialogues are cut short. Role reversal does not suit me at all.
Then came Zukie’s Facebook and with that Farmville. Now I needed eggs, baskets of veggies, pegasaurus, rare breed and trees. I am a dirty player and have to have the best. Check this out. The last screen shots before I bid adieu to my farming life.
Now I hated begging.. Allah ke naam pe do one horse. Bhagwan bhala karega – give me an egg. May the lord be with you – give me flower basket. (at least use this for unity in solidarity slogans). So I created multiple logins using every relative’s name of mine. (Sorry cousins, if you could not use your emails with your names. I really apologise from the bottom of my heart. All the logins were taken. But you did a great deed by saving your sister from stalkers. Thank you.) Fb no need to sue me. Those accounts are no more. RIP all the farms.
But soon maintaining the records became difficult and loading the farm made my life a whirlpool of sorrow and anxiety. (Do not snicker. It takes 3 days to grow watermelons and they cannot die.)
Then the writing world happened. Out of the blue. My world started taking a shape of reality and old dreams. And with that came a huge problem. My name. Should I write as Rubina? What if my MIL read my romances where my hero give a HK (figure that out by yourself ) or my heroine was in the throes of passion. What if my BIL found out or his BIL from his wife’s side? Total chaos. So Ina was born again.
But now as the days pass by, I do realise one thing. A name does not make you. You make a name. It does not matter who I write as. What matters is what I write. To whom I show my work. When my MIL reads apiece written by me- she slowly goes to her neighbours house and shows her the piece I wrote. The pride evident in her eyes. (High time she said it from her lips though.. well, Life is still young. )
I envy all those who can write using a pseudonym. I personally - give up.
Ah well.. did I hear the phone ring…
Would you write an erotica for us?”
“Yes. Yes. But my name is Sasha…. !”