Dear Reader,
If you’re a millennial from Kerala or know one, chances are you will know a Shaji, Biju, Priya, Baiju, Siju, Maya, Sini, Mini, or someone with a similar sounding name. Why were these names so popular?
There’s a story, an intriguing one at that, which will captivate a sociologist, cultural scholar, or even an anthropologist. These names represent a truly secular period in Kerala’s history. The generation before the Shajis and Minis sported names that proudly proclaimed their caste and faith: Ramans, Krishnans, Georges, Abdullahs, you name it. But a Shaji could be Shaji George, Shaji Rehman, or Shaji Menon. Using initials offered no clue either to caste or religion—not for K.N. Shaji, T.T. Baiju, K. Jaya, or Priya P.S. Then came the Lenins, Stalins, Nelsons, Priyadarshinis, Boses, Jawahars, Mohandases, Kasturbas, and more.
A wave of social reform movements, powered by Communists, Nehruvian socialists, the Lohiates, new social movements, and rationalists, instilled a true and unabashedly secular mindset. Not only did people wear their secular identity with pride, but abandoning religious symbolism in names became fashionable. While this might seem like an oversimplification, most Indians, regardless of caste or religion, wanted their children and themselves too to be identified with a secular, plural India.
This wasn’t a forced move. It was an organic transformation that swept Kerala. Even in conservative pockets, the prevailing sentiment remained secular. Shajis and Babus were ubiquitous, and only school attendance registers revealed that Shaji was Abdul Latheef and Babu was Ratheesh Mohan. Anecdotally, these names boomed in the 1970s, 1980s, and early 1990s.
Fast forward to the present, and teachers and journalists tell us that Shajis, Babus, and Bijus are rarely heard in Kerala anymore. Trends change, yes, old names give way to new ones. But this isn’t a transformation in fashion. The current crop of names is a complete reversal, a return to the old order. Shajis are now Shivshankars, Bijus are Benedicts, Babus are back to Abdul Rasheeds and Razakhs; Shilpas and Priyas are Anna Miriam Mathews Menacheri and Sarah John Keetikkal, proclaiming their tharavadu (family) names.
Why are today’s parents, many with “secular” names themselves, hastily naming their kids after religious gods, warrior heroes from up north, and saints and sages of yore? What happened in between?
Many things happened, many significant things. It began with the opening of the Indian economy and the influx of new capital in the 1990s, which made the middle class aspirational, ambitious, and exposed to global trends. Not inherently bad. But this phase also coincided with a period of explosive transformation in India: the Ramjanmabhoomi movement, the Mandal agitation, and the Babri Masjid demolition. The othering of Muslims, Christians, Communists, and anyone deemed a threat to the Hindutva ideal demonstrably created a sense of fear in Indian society. This impacted Kerala’s secular culture significantly, forcing every community and individual to re-evaluate their religious and caste identities as a matter of survival or retaining self-confidence.
The toxic debates beamed into living rooms via cable television and later social media, especially after the Modi government came to power in 2014, the wave of trolls and fake news creators unleashed online, and the placing of religion back at the centre of Indian politics marginalised and shamed the secular. Slowly, Shajis and Babus became uncool, losing out to gods, saints, and warriors from all religions.
This is the story of Kerala, arguably the most secular, literate State in India. One can only guess the changes that would have visited other parts of the country. This isn’t a simple story. It’s a seemingly isolated episode within a wider, complex transformation that India has undergone in recent years, fuelled by fundamentalisms of all kinds, most notably Hindutva. This period saw the deadly cocktail of religion and ultra-nationalism infiltrate every aspect of life, from education and governance to sports and cinema. It is crucial to talk about this today, on January 30, 76 years after Mahatma Gandhi, the father of our nation, was assassinated by a Hindutva votary. This January also saw the grand inauguration of the Ram temple on the site of the demolished Babri Masjid, an event that signals an epochal shift in India’s secular history, one that sharply divides the populace and foretells further and far worse shifts to come.
It is this fault line that Frontline is investigating in its latest edition. The cover package, “Reimagining Ram”, has an eclectic lineup of writers, including Purushottam Agrawal, Apoorvanand, B. Jeyamohan, Vaishna Roy, Anand Mishra, and Ashutosh Sharma. Together, they try to make sense of the New India, powered and propelled by a New Ram. We invite you to begin with Agrawal’s essay, “The idea of Ram, the idea of India,” and send us your comments.
Wishing you a great week ahead,
For Team Frontline,
Jinoy Jose P.
