Random Musings 19: What’s in a name? Everything Billy boy, everything!

A croquette is, after all, just a fancy bonda. A risotto, a khichdi. And a paella, a very fried rice that learned Spanish and supports Real Madrid instead of Mohun Bagan.

What’s in a name, white people’s Rabi Thakur, William Shakespeare had asked in Romeo and Juliet. The answer, an epiphany that occurred to me while wading through a humungous restaurant bill that resembled a telephone number, is that everything’s in a name.

A croquette is, after all, just a fancy bonda. A risotto, a khichdi. And a paella, a very fried rice that learned Spanish and supports Real Madrid instead of Mohun Bagan.

The moment a bonda, khichdi, or fried rice, gets labelled a croquette, risotto, or paella, its price increases exponentially (while the portion size exponentially decreases).

Now, I do not claim to be a Gen Z suffering from “menu anxiety” (which, by the way, is what Punjabis call regular anxiety), having meted out enough kutai during my childhood years, but the Bard was definitely wrong about the name bit.

It’s not simply exclusive to gustatory affairs either.

When a random YouTube influencer talks about a random something, it sounds really inane, but the moment someone like RRR – who is Jonesing to keep up with K-Basu – says the same, it sounds infinitely more profound. Similarly, when Rahul Gandhi mouths something, it sounds like something cobbled together from a nursery book, but when PM Narendra Modi speaks virtually the same thing, it seems like the Vedantic wisdom of sages.

Of course, how you say it matters too.

If you review Animal, by saying: “Mast movie tha” you will be labelled a class enemy.

However, if you can put together a word salad like: “Despite the obvious transgressions that we’ve come to witness in a cis-heteronormative patriarchal setting and obvious rampant Islamophobia and misogyny, Animal is a throwback to the Travis Bickle-meets-Tony Montana Angry Young Man genre that we’ve come to revel in what speaks to our basest evolutionary desires for bloodlust” - one is instantly hailed as a sui generis savant and given a column in The Hindu to write film reviews.

When a Hindu (not to be confused with publication known as Global Times: Chennai Edition) expresses a desire to build a temple for his imaginary sky friend, he’s immediately labelled a bigot in need of re-education. On the other hand, when Catholics do it, one pays a lot of money to visit the place and see some smoke come out of a chimney.

When America neutralises a terrorist on foreign soil, it’s upholding the Rule of Law or liberal world order. If India does the same thing – and I’ve serious doubts given the quality of movies we’ve seen about Indian “intelligence” agents and the quality of our bureaucracy – it’s portending the rise of Hindutva autocracy and a disrespect to the fourth protocol laid down by some random NATO committee.

Depending on your worldview, paragliders are either freedom fighters overthrowing their colonial overlords or terrorists who need to be neutralised with extreme prejudice. The same goes for fake news, where propaganda like the “Ghost of Kyiv” is effective “myth-making,” but Indians – armed with the cheapest mobile data plan – speaking about Israel are participating in a “deluge of disinformation.” As the popular meme points out: “Tera kutta Tommy, sada kutta Kutta.”

All said and done, the Bard was wrong. It’s all in a name.

PS: Even your taste buds fall for this pretence, and the moment you are served a khichdi, calling it a risotto, it tastes a thousand times better.