Only names that are the easiest to pronounce prevail in public patois

It is said that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet but Indian politicians are blissfully unaware, or at least unmoved, by such Shakespearean truisms.

That is why we have seen the names of streets, cities, states, museums and other entities change their nomenclatures with dismal regularity. The initial reason was the need to sweep away colonial cobwebs; then came a burst of fervour for local sentiments, particularly when it came to pronunciations; most recently, in Uttar Pradesh, social engineering provided the cause.

The move by the new young UP chief minister to restore the original names of districts, reanointed with more politically au courant names by his predecessor, however, need not be regarded as a mere youthful nose-thumbing. He may well have divined the secret of why some names catch on and persist while others simply don't: brevity.

While Mahamayanagar, Chhatrapati Shambhuji Maharajnagar and Manyavar Kanshiram Nagar may appease certain sentiments, the practicalities of pronunciation and spelling militate against their permanence in the public patois. Their succinct original names, Hathras, Amethi and Kasganj, reiterate the reason for their resilience.

They also point to why Thiruvananthapuram, Udhagamandalam and other such multi-syllabled Indianised places still go by their shorter, easier to enunciate Anglicised names, even when referred to in regional languages.

Mahatma Gandhi's name, loyally imposed on major thoroughfares around India, is routinely abbreviated to the snappier initials MG, as are other leaders similarly immortalised via roads, districts and institutions.

This should convince politicians that only the principle of convenience should guide future forays into the art of altered nomenclature.