Supernovaditya

They should have called me Supernovaditya. I’ve heard Nagaditya, Srinivasaditya, Krishnaditya, Sriaditya, etc. But I still think they should have called me Supernovaditya. The irony (read Bangalore University) of the naming ceremony is that, all through our lives, we are identified by something which was given to us by somebody (usually a priest or oldest surviving family member who is like both feet in the grave) who we’ll never meet again in our entire lives. At this juncture, one is compelled to opine that one should just be left alone as a kid and given a choice to choose and patent his/her name once one learns basic algebra. One chose. The chosen one is Supernovaditya. Supernovadi, for short. I just spoke to an old friend. He is becoming a father. I have known the couple for about 11 years now. It feels great. All my friends are becoming fathers. It’s like the father season. However, at normal room temperature, I am sane enough to know that I would not get to be one. Don’t mistake me, I am quite potent, but it’s just that the eve is gone. Leaving me with a heartache in the head. It’s really tough to get out of this. Moral of the story: The red bullet is always faster than the black bullet. Given the circumstances, some cry, some get drunk, some talk, some sleep. I have chosen to rename myself.