What's in a Name?

S bought an iPod shuffle and it came last week. After a few minutes of intense deliberation we named him iPaki, a name which (even though I came up with) I just thought funny, but S thought brilliant. When I first met iPaki--the wee little thing--he was still unnamed, naked as a newborn, and sexy as hell. I just held him in my palm for the longest time because he is just such a gorgeous, sexy little thing and I just couldn't get enough of him. But later I had to return him to his jealous owner :(

Someone who lives in Toronto, goes to UofT and is from Bangladesh messaged me today on MSN--oh, why is this significant, you ask? Well, apparently her name is also Ipshita! Given the eerie coincidences, I was convinced it was somebody playing a prank on me but after some serious detective work on my part (ie. quizzing her on the meaning of my, er, our name) I conceded that she is real. This brings up some serious, serious issues.

I mean okay, if she had been some obscure person living in the Australian Outback, I could have just ignored it. But here she is, living in my city, going to my school; making it very possible for me to run into her any minute! Ipshita from Toronto who goes to UofT, isn't just me anymore! I don't know how to deal with this invasion of my identity. How am I supposed to deal with this feeling of violation and--dare I say--jealous possessiveness that threatens to overwhelm?

How do people react when they meet someone who has their name? How are they supposed to react? Does it not make them feel as though they are not themselves anymore? That they have been robbed of something vital?

I don't know how true this is of most people but my name plays a big role in the idea that I have of myself. If nothing else, it has made me a lover and advocate of hard-core daat-bhangafyingly (capable of breaking your teeth, they are so hard to pronounce) sanskrit names. I grew up with people of my own ethnic background mispronouncing it; being ridiculed in highschool because of the curse word smack-dab in the middle of it for eternity; being subjected to smirks when answering the question "What does your name mean?". But it all eventually led to me being extremely proud of having such an odd name. A quirky name; as quirky as me. A name with character. A beautiful name, I told myself. MY name.

And now, to think, somebody else might have gone through those exact experiences and emotions. Somebody else is also an Ipshita. How do I convince myself that I am more of an Ipshita than she is, or do I? I can't just ignore this serious breach of my Ipshi-ness, my selfhood, can I?

I feel so violated.