What's In A Dog's Name?

I have a friend. He is a Bapu. And though a Bapu, he is a gentleman. He comes from a village and is passionate about this fact of his life. Recently, he has built a new house on his village farm and aptly calls it a farm-house. Now a farm house on the outskirts of a village in the tribal outback needs protection. Bapu is also modern. So his search to secure his farm-house began with Google and ended with a Doberman guard dog.

Though Bapu lives a very rooted, simple life, keeping a pet is a very English practice - even highbrow - it seems. So the new member of the household has been named Archer. Bapu speaks to Archer in what else but English even as he does not forget to lapse into Gujarati when he talks to yours truly. So if Archer is to be stopped from rummaging through dirt while on a walk, he is scolded a big NO. When he is given food, he is commanded to “eat”. Once a villager spotted Bapu rushing through his walk only to realize it was Archer’s pull and not Bapu’s will! Archer just needs to learn to “wait” while on leash. In pre-Archer times, Bapu would go out for morning and evening walks. At times he would carry binoculars along for birding through the leisurely strolls. Now they are not his walks. They are Archer’s.

I am left wondering. Would Archer not obey if he is told to eat or walk in Hindi or Gujarati? Should our Bapu put Achtung outside his gates instead of Beware, the German gene that Archer is. Perhaps keeping a pet dog is a colonial legacy. Or so we think. Otherwise, why is it that we give the most English names to our pets? Guess it’s our way of avenging the “Indians and dogs not allowed” condescension of the Brit times. No wonder most pet dogs are called Tommies – a generic for a British foot soldier – or Jacky and Boxer, never Jaggu or Babloo.

Or perhaps not. Hindi litterateur Rahul Sankratayan had a dog named Bhootnath, and would speak to him in conversational Hindi. A bureaucrat friend of mine confabulates with his many pets in Gujarati and they all listen. The black one is even called Kalu to keep it straight and simple. Nawab Mahabat Khan III of Junagadh easily gave Indian Muslim names to his dogs that included in its list a Roshanara, an Umrao, and a Salim. He even arranged the wedding of Umrao with the pooch of Nawab of Mangrol. The pageantry that accompanied the occasion is an urban legend in Junagadh to this day.

The whole point is why should we think of a pet dog as an English import? Here is a disclosure. I briefly had a dog named Moti. There is an invitation from Bapu to visit his village in post-Archer times. Well, if Bapu is reading this, my only concern would be to do that before he has taught him ‘Archer, Jump!’