About A G Sekhar
For many decades I was A G Sekhar: a very logical sequence, a good alternative to the use of surnames. The surname, especially in patriarchal societies, identifies the father but does little else; it may suggest a sibling connection but not much more.
A logical sequence goes further into detail and tries to identify the individual person. Thus A=Angarai (the home land, the place you came from), G=Ganesan (your sire’s name), followed by your own name. Sekhar, son of Ganesan, from Angarai.
Angarai is a village south south east of Chennai (used to be Madras). In the 14th century the Rajah, the ruler of the region, an autocrat but one who knew (unlike some modern leaders of nations) that he should seek, and heed, intelligent and balanced advice, hired a Brahmin to be his chief minister.
In 1371 he thanked his advisor for long and profitable service. ‘Two hundred acres in Angarai for you.’
‘Very good land, my king.’ said my ancestor. ‘Thank you. But my lord, my king, all our people need temples.’
The Rajah said, ‘Absolutely. I will build you a temple. Hire Wren, Corbusier, or Frank Lloyd Wright. I will pay. But I have a caveat: you and your family must, over centuries, welcome out people, and all peoples, across the world, to the temple. You will sing the invitational morning song.’
‘Rajah,’ my ancestor said, ‘I will try.’
Some years ago I attended a munificent celebration in New York. On a magnificent terrace, overlooking the iconic centre of the world’s greatest city, the spires of its buildings spiking the sky and samosas and sushi on foliaged tables, I spoke to many family people. When I told this story of our shared initial initial to my nephew, he said he had been to Angarai, pulled out his cell phone, and displayed this photo. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘Here is our cousin, welcoming people to the temple.’
