That is right. That is her name. Not Nanny, as in the woman employed to look after children. It is Nunni, the Punjabi word for tiny. She is white all over with a ginger tail and ginger spots on her ears. She is not a pedigreed cat but a wild, domestic hybrid. She divides her time in and out of the house. Quite simply, she is the prettiest thing alive. She was small, alone and helpless when mother brought her inside from the street. It was on the night of her arrival that she was given the name. We call our cat Nunni. And why not, I ask you?
It is a given here that you should have Anglicized names for your pets. Cats are called Dolly, Twinkle or addressed by some other silly western name. You can call your dog Tiger but not Shairdil or Bahadur because, some say, local names sound boorish and unsophisticated. Ever heard of a cat called Shireen, the Urdu for sweet? But I am sure you must have heard of a cat called Sweety or Sugar. Why is that?
Some people will argue that keeping pets is a western idea. Since we borrow the idea from the west, we should borrow the nomenclature too. First of all, that is not true. What about the famous Urdu anecdotes of the hilarious Mullah Naseeruddin and his mule? Moghul Emperor Akbar’s favourite elephant was named Hawa’i (in Persian). Tipu Sultan had a whole pride of tigers; the most ferocious of them was the Tiger Royale — Shairon ka Shair. From our school days, we know that Iqbal’s favourite creature was the falcon. He addressed the bird as Shaheen. In cultural discourse, shaheen has become a metaphor for dignity, endurance and courage. Tonga and carriage drivers have always kept, and occasionally loved their asses (no pun intended). Keeping pets may have been popularised in western culture but people have loved and kept animals all over the world.
A colleague of mine says calling pets in Urdu would sound silly. Right. What is the next logical step in this train of thought? Your own Urdu name would sound silly too. Should we all switch to foreign names then? The Anglicised naming convention is symptomatic of a deeper malaise here.
English-sounding names seem to garner greater respect in society. Since people cannot have English names for themselves, they adopt these names for their pets. It does not stop with animals though. In the uptown locales of the city, confectionaries Anglicise perfectly normal Urdu names to sound chic. Rasheed Bakery becomes Rasheed’s Inn, Mamnoon becomes Mamnoon’s Pancakes (even though they do not make pancakes). Restaurants and eateries take ridiculous sounding Italian names or unpronounceable French ones that even their staff cannot lucidly utter. Some affix the article ‘the’ to modernise a desi name, The Tandoor, for instance. The addition of the supposedly makes it more saleable with the highbrow. Brand names for attire do the same. The Punjabi family name Butt becomes a modish B. It is good marketing but it reflects a feeling of inferiority lurking deep down somewhere.
How does having Anglicised names reflect an inferiority complex? Do they name restaurants in Urdu, Pashto or Punjabi in New York? Maybe some South Asian immigrants do but do the farangis do it? No. They do not need to. They do not look up to us and do not need our language or cultural symbols to gain prestige. But we do. We name our things after them. This is arguably so because, here, being modern is equated with being westernised in attire, language and customs.
Japan, South Korea and China are pretty modern. They house some of the world’s leading universities, have taken great strides in technology, infrastructure development and healthcare, but do not make cartoons of themselves by taking foreign names. This means that they have modernised their societies by taking the best of whatever it is the west has to offer — education, public service structures, social and economic development models — while retaining their culture and language. And now, they are in a position to export their culture. Three months ago, the Chinese consulate opened a China language and culture centre at a famous public sector university in Lahore. It is amusing to see Pakistanis striving to learn Chinese when, only recently, the trend was to learn English for study and immigration purposes.
Keeping pets is not a western idea but organised pet care is. There are homes for stray dogs, abandoned cats, and medical care and shelter for all sorts of sick animals there. In Pakistan, animals are rarely cared for. Cats and dogs roaming about the neighbourhood are often treated with cruel disregard. When we erect concrete structures and establish housing colonies, we encroach upon nature. The land humans so brazenly take belongs to all of nature’s creatures. Cats and dogs in the neighbourhood, and horses and mules pulling carts are not human but deserve to be treated in a humane way. It is their land, their neighbourhood too.
Animals can be great companions. They are moody, loving, mischievous, demanding, entertaining and downright cuddly. Ever heard of a man thanking an animal for his success? In his acceptance speech after receiving the Golden Globe award for best actor in 2009, actor Micky Rourke thanked his dogs in these words: “Sometimes when a man is alone, all you [have] got are your dogs and they meant the world to me.” Let me add that your companion does not have to be pedigreed. The purebred affair is another show off. What matters is the bond you have with the animal. That brings me back to our cat. Nunni is also the bravest little creature I know. When her litter was young, I saw her scale the outer wall to pick a fight with a well-bred German shepherd. How many purebred Pinkys, Dinkys and Dixys can do that?
The writer is a lecturer in English Literature at Government College University, Lahore