Naming a Hindu child is an arduous task. Saints pore over eclectic books to match birth dates, timings, and stars with necessary consonants and vowels. My parents aren’t very religious, so when it came time to name me, they chose a seemingly unique name—Sreya. It was their little act of rebellion against a conservative home country. I guess that defiant nature rubbed off on me. A “Sreya” should be artistic and musical, but instead I am math-centered and tech-savvy.
Sreya also means beautiful, an adjective I’m proud of calling myself even if others don’t see it. There’s so much I’m lucky to have—arms, legs, vision, senses—that it doesn’t make sense to consider myself ugly. It also means best and excellent. My teachers always write in my end term reports that it is “a pleasure to have Sreya in my class.” I strive to maintain upper A’s and good relations with them.
With a trans-religion name, Sreya shouldn’t be popular or widely used. But in my math class alone there are three other variations of it. I’ve been called the wrong name too many times: Shreya, Shriya, Sriya, Shraeaya and so on. It upsets me because my name is my personal representation and altering it is like altering me. It also doesn’t help that I have a lisp and am unable to correctly pronounce my name. My band of friends is usually there to sort things out, but it still irks me.
My mother tells me on many occasions that she would have named me Snigdha, if not Sreya. Snigdha means calm and peaceful, miles away from what my friends describe me as. I am an outspoken leader, and I always speak out about what I feel is wrong. I do try for peace, but I like taking the shortest path to it, which is usually aggressive.
When I was smaller, I’d harbored a passion for the name “Lakshmi.” Not because it is the name of the Hindu goddess of wealth and money, but because it sounded exquisite and striking. Later, I’d envied the name “Sarah” simply because it seemed normal and common, unlike “Sreya” which narrowed my social horizons because it was such an unusual name. After reaching middle school, I started to really love my name and realized how it reflected me. Surrounded by so many other kids with atypical names in a racially diverse magnet program, I understood that it didn’t matter what others thought of my name. I still have a speech disorder, a love for math and a rebellious streak, but it’s not to blame on Sreya; it’s on me.
