Project Other Names: A Collection of Fictional Characters

An exercise to explore the different vibes of names used in a story and their relationship with the plot. Captured in a fleeting undefined moment.

Here's also a random picture in case you reached here by accident and find the contents of the page a tad too silly for your time.

The task of assigning names to characters in stories has always been a bit confusing for me. Either they are too eccentric or misplaced, misdirected or just feel like a mouthful. With this exercise I hope I get more comfortable with naming. Okay. Amuse yourself.

#1

“Mutuality isn’t the least bit important in marriage, Ajay. It counts only in romance.”

Ajay gave his pretty paramour a long look. Did she believe this stuff? Or was she playing some deep female game? He knew he would not marry her. He was proud of her, and he enjoyed her company, but she wasn’t what he had in mind for a lifetime partner.

#2

Ankita was all As, in the eleventh grade, an active member of a number of academic clubs and excused from sports for obvious reasons.

Once every two weeks, Ankita met her physician who emptied her pockets of stones and insisted she urinate before stepping on the weighing scale. She had been hospitalised only once in her life, yet her mother was convinced Ankita was never more than a few milligrams away from an emergency hospital visit.

Ankita showed the usual signs of disease. Hair loss. Skin stretched like a thin white membrane over the sharp bones on her face. Her voice as harsh as a saw. But her conversations, unless the subject was her own body mass, was reasonable and intelligent.

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Beachbumming in Deobag

Every year the Indian Konkan Coast swells with tourists and travellers looking for fun in the sun and sand. In laidback Tarkarli and Deobag, however, it’s as much about what to do as it’s about who’s next door. Chances are that you’ll be by yourself, despite the peak seasons (fingers crossed).

Other names: Kaai

Unrelated picture from Berlin. #6 Kaai and I had been driving for ten hours straight from Udupi, threading our way through the NH66 which ran all along the western coast. It was a last minute plan put together in all of twenty minutes by Kaai during the tea break. We would drive 700km to the Osho Ashram in Pune to get our hands on the hip new Osho sandals before anyone else in class. It was a bit much but this was 2006 and Osho was all the rage. ‘A little adventure won’t hurt’, he said. Little did we imagine that for one of us, this trip would last a lifetime. I learned that Kaai was a very spiritual person. He hid that side of himself under rock band t-shirts, ripped jeans and the old bubblegum beret that he refused to part with even while he slept. It took me by surprise when he brought up ‘god’ literally in the middle of nowhere. We passed a little kid who was throwing stones at the cars on the road. “Think of it”, Kaai said. “One day he’s going to throw a stone that wi

Portrait of a criminal as a young thug

He is five feet and eleven inches tall, hundred and three kgs heavy, with sweaty arms and a glistening moustache, shoulder length black hair oiled and tied into a small ponytail. He has a wild demeanour and suspicious eyes.

MADTROTTER

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