This is the tense and dramatic story of how you got your name. Those were the days when amma was carrying you around in her belly. We were speculating what we would name you like all expecting parents do. I had a few ideas on the kind of name we wanted for you

It had to be short (Because every name ends up being shorter than what ever they begin with)
It should sound new (I know it is a cliche but, as u grow up you will realise how common some of the names are)
It had to be a sanskirt name (this is definitely not taking revenge on my sanskrit teacher for giving me poor marks, I wanted the name to be Indian and what better language than Sanskrit)

We researched around for different words as our own vocabularies were very limited. We found “Eshita” best suited for you. I personally loved the name and so did your amma but, as usual it was met with raised eyebrows from your avva and everyone she had the power to influence (which covers most of the known world).

I kept fighting for it and showed no interest in what they wanted. This continued till you were born and a few days after. When the crunch time arrived, they created a story saying people would end up calling you Issi (which kind of means shit in Kannada).

I kept arguing that you cannot end up controlling what people call you. The only thing you can control is if you like the name or not. Things started heating up when amma joined the bandwagon too in rejecting Ishita (though when we were alone, she would support me on it)

You could have been named any of these Anya, Eshita, Niti, Dharitri, Ananya, Anagha, Vaghdevi and Sreeja.

On the D day, minutes before your name had to be finalised, I left two choices to your mom (Eshita and Niti). She took the final call and hence the world will know you as Niti and I will be known as Father of Niti.