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What’s not in a name?
A name is the most important part of unique identity.
Financial inclusion, already frayed at the edges, will be fraught with
more problems unless this simple truth is recognized
Dipankar Choudhury
When I relocated to Mumbai about 20 years ago, I was confronted by the local practice of using a middle name. The region where I come from does not have the concept of a middle name, except for extensions like Kumar or Chandra that appear like middle names but are not. So a cultural clash was bound to ensue. Most of the official establishment was unwilling to accept me as myself without a middle name. In fact, my tax consultant said that I better not apply for a PAN card without a middle name, else it may get rejected.
But my (late) father’s first name was Sushil Kumar, and I was asked whether Kumar was his middle name or not. To me, this was like asking for the weight of a cow’s egg – I did not have an answer. So in different documents, Sushil and Sushil Kumar appeared as my second name, depending on the concerned officer’s interpretation.
I had two problems with this approach. First, some officers said that not inserting my father’s name into mine is equivalent to disowning my parentage. Really? What if I came from a matrilineal society? Or simply chose to have my mother’s name in the middle? Are names like Sarojini Shibulal and Sanjay Leela Bansali improper?
On all occasions I stated that I had no hesitation at all in mentioning my father’s name, to be recorded separately, not inserted into mine. But that was not acceptable.
The second, and the more practical one, was that the “new” names did not match the “old name” that appeared in my school certificate or passport, for example. This opened up enormous opportunities for irritating delays and rent-seeking. Add to that the fact that my surname can be found in various parts of India where it is spelt slightly differently, and the alphabet soup became hot and sour.
Why are we discussing all this? Because this is the age of KYC and unique identification, much of which will go towards financial inclusion initiatives. If a person like me has so many unreconciled forms of existence on paper, you can guess what happens to the masses. And I am comparatively lucky; the problems that my South Indian friends faced with their names is fodder for a separate column.
If you think that this is too much ado about nothing, think again. A senior executive of CIBIL, India’s first credit bureau, told me that there was a case of one borrower appearing six times in their database. Their investigation revealed that on every occasion the concerned bank had recorded the name slightly differently. CIBIL has had to develop special algorithms to identify an individual who may be appearing in different names. And then there are cases of insurance claims getting rejected because of name mismatches, arguably a more traumatic issue than borrowing.
It will be a long time before the UID becomes a single source of name information; perhaps it will never be. There is only one way that the problem can be contained in future; past cases are difficult to undo. On a nationwide basis, it should be made clear to everybody, particularly institutions like schools, banks and government that an individual’s name is as he wishes to spell it, not what someone else thinks it should be. He may not have a surname, can include his village name, a woman does not have to take her husband’s surname, and so on – officialdom should not care.
That still leaves one issue which is difficult to resolve but not impossible. The vast majority still have their names written in regional languages. For the sake of uniformity, it is essential that birth certificates be issued in two languages – the regional on one side and English on another (Surprised at this being a suggestion? I have seen a parent seeking admission for his child in a Mumbai school presenting the latter’s birth certificate printed only in another state language, which the school authorities could not read). The local municipal officer is best positioned to “translate” the name into English, and ensure that Doraiswamy does not become Dorothy.
Not a perfect solution, but perhaps better than hunting for an illusory middle name. A notification, coupled with some education will do; let us not burden Parliament with passing of something like a Namkaran Act. Some states may find that impinging on the federal structure.
Dipankar Choudhury was Director of Indian Financial Services Research at Deutsche Bank, and is currently an independent consultant focusing on banks and financial services.
