My experience with my surname, or rather the absence of a traditional one, has significantly shaped my interactions and perceptions in various social contexts. Growing up with a single name, I often found myself at the centre of curiosity and discomfort among those who encountered my name. The reactions ranged from subtle confusion to overt inquiries, each revealing societal expectations and norms surrounding surnames.The word ‘surname’ originates in the Latin ‘sur’ prefix, meaning ‘above’ or ‘over,’ added to ‘noma’ (name). Does a surname denote something additional to a name or superior to a name? Different cultures have different norms for assigning a surname to an individual. Some do it occupation-wise, some according to their social status, while others’ place of residence becomes the basis of their surnames. The majority of surnames are patronymic, i.e., having male ancestry.

People’s curiosity about my single name often led to uncomfortable questions and assumptions. In school, teachers and peers would ask, “Why don’t you have a surname?” This question was not just a query about my name but a reflection of societal norms that view surnames as essential components of identity. The absence of a surname seemed to perplex and unsettle many as if my identity was incomplete without it. When I introduced myself to others, I could sense the subtle shift in people’s demeanour. Their expressions often carried a mix of pity and annoyance, as if my lack of a surname was a deficiency. Some even speculated about familial discord, assuming that the absence of a surname signalled deeper issues. This constant need to explain my name fostered a sense of annoyance within me, but it also cultivated a deeper understanding of societal perceptions and the weight carried by surnames. For a female, the absence of a surname was even more problematic. Society often views women through the lens of their familial connections, and a surname is a crucial part of that identity. Without a surname, I was perceived as an anomaly, which led to even more scrutiny and judgment compared to my male counterparts, who might be in a similar situation.

The conventions surrounding surnames have broader implications on identity, belonging, and social mobility. In many Indian communities, surnames are closely tied to caste, regional identity, and family lineage. This linkage can confer a sense of belonging, pride, and, conversely, stigma and exclusion. For women, the tradition of changing surnames after marriage further complicates this dynamic, often leading to a loss of personal identity and professional recognition. My experience navigating social spaces without a conventional surname highlighted the rigid expectations and biases ingrained in our societal framework. I became bitterly aware of how surnames perpetuate social norms, marginalising those who don’t fit the mould and reinforcing outdated notions of legitimacy and belonging.My experiences resonate with, yet differ from, those of others in various cultural contexts within India. In some regions, particularly in matrilineal societies or among certain tribal communities, the absence of a traditional surname is more common and accepted. However, in the broader patriarchal context, where patrilineal surnames dominate, deviations from the norm often invite scrutiny and judgment. For instance, in Kerala, where surnames can reflect geographical or caste affiliations, the absence or alteration of a surname may carry different connotations compared to northern states, where surnames are more rigidly tied to caste and family lineage. In urban centres, where modern values and professional identities are increasingly important, women retaining their maiden names or adopting hyphenated surnames are becoming more common, reflecting a shift towards personal autonomy and gender equality.

The practical challenges of having a single name became evident as I navigated various systems and institutions. Many online forms, particularly those for booking plane tickets or registering on websites, required both a first and last name. To circumvent this, I often used ‘Richa Richa,’ repeating my first name as both given and surname. While practical, this workaround felt like a compromise on my identity. Furthermore, in the academic and publishing world, I faced similar issues. Publishers, even abroad, frequently insisted on a traditional two-part name structure. This led me to adopt ‘Richa Srishti’ as my academic name. ‘Srishti,’ meaning creation in Sanskrit, resonated with my creative identity and allowed me to conform to these external requirements without feeling like I was completely surrendering my individuality.

My journey of self-discovery involved navigating societal expectations while carving out my own identity. I realised that adopting the pen name ‘Srishti’ was a step toward reconciling my personal and cultural identity (I had created this for myself during my school days). It reflected my creative aspirations and helped me embrace a unique aspect of my identity. Later, during one of our family conversations, I learned about our ‘gotra’ (a concept in Hindu culture that denotes family lineage, tracing the ancestry to a common patriline). Though the gotra name can be used as a surname, it differs from a surname. Gotra is unchangeable, but surnames can change depending on marriage (for females), adoption, or legal name changes. Fascinated by ‘gotra,’ I started using ‘gotra’ as my surname. Our ‘gotra’ was ‘Parashar,’ dating back to Vedic India. We claimed to be the descendants of the renowned ancient Hindu sage Rishi Parashara. Interestingly, my official name remained ‘Richa,’ which I enjoyed as a unique aspect of my identity that I had always had a penchant for! Incorporating ‘Sophie’ as a middle name, although not official, was another significant step in my journey. It symbolised my love for knowledge and wisdom and allowed me to create a personal narrative that transcended conventional surname practices. This unique combination of names – Richa, Sophie, Srishti – encapsulates my growth and aspirations, reflecting a multifaceted identity that challenges traditional norms.

Recently, a new trend has emerged – some women choose to retain both their father’s and husband’s surnames after marriage or add their husband’s name alongside their father’s name/surname. While these choices may appear to reflect evolving attitudes towards gender roles and personal identity, they still occur within a framework that limits women’s autonomy and reinforces male lineage and authority. My experiences with my surname, or the lack thereof, have shaped my understanding of identity and social dynamics. Throughout my journey since childhood, I have come to realise the complexities of identity formation in a culturally diverse society like India. This curious tale of surnames also highlights the powerful role surnames play in societal perceptions and the ongoing struggle for females to balance tradition with personal autonomy.

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Richa Srishti is an Associate Professor at the Department of Languages, CHRIST (Deemed to be University), Pune Lavasa Campus.