A Rose Called by Any Name

“Why are you smiling? Tell me.” Lulu, my parrot, said as he came in my room, circled and settled on my shoulder.
“I am simply elated, ‘maha-happy’!” I said. When you are very happy you use phrases of the young.
“Oh, it is written all over your face. What’s that paper in your hand? Looks like a Government paper.”
“You got it right.”

“You must be the only person in this world who is happy holding a very old yellowing paper with some government order on it. Happy days are coming to Indian citizens!”
“You do not have to take a dig like that at BJP. They have nothing to do with this. This is my birth certificate.”
“What’s the reason to be so happy? Was your date of birth in question?”
“Oh no! This is my birth certificate which I had seen when I graduated in 1970. We moved from Mumbai to Kalyan then and I had discovered it. Take a close look. It records my name as ‘Vivekanand’ and not Vivek.”

“Ha ha! Oh yes, that is true. How did it become Vivek then?”
“We were staying at Khopoli. In the Tata Power’s colony. My father told Mrs Kamat, the teacher to admit me in the school and she must have recorded my name ‘Vivek.’
“So are you Vivek or Vivekanand?”
“Officially Vivekanand, hmmm…, but my name is recorded in all other records as Vivek.”
“You mean there is confusion about your identity?”
“Don’t take digs at me. I was in Kolkata and visited Dakshineshwar temple only last month. And now this… what a coincidence.”
“Keep your search for Guru like Ramakrishna Paramahansa on, that is the divine message.”

Vivek [nah, Vivekananda]