"Surname: Reclaiming One's Identity from British Colonial Naming Practices"

In 2015, the Madras High Court ruled that a person cannot be compelled to use a surname in a particular format, acknowledging Bharat's cultural diversity, but bureaucratic enthusiasm remains heavily toward the colonial mindset.

When the British established their rule in India, they brought with them not only political and economic systems, but also cultural frameworks, including the Western practice of emphasizing the surname over the given name. This shift had far-reaching implications in a society where individual identity had traditionally been deeply rooted in caste, clan, occupation, and locality.

One of the primary reasons the British patronised the use of surnames was administrative necessity. As the colonial government expanded its bureaucracy for land revenue collection, census-taking, legal documentation, and education it required a consistent and standardized system for identifying individuals. Indian naming conventions, which were often fluid and region-specific, posed a challenge.

Many people were known by a single name, or used complex combinations involving caste, village name, or father’s name. To fit Indians into the mold of Western legal and bureaucratic frameworks, the British began insisting on a two-part name structure: a given name and a family name. 

Ironically, while attempting to simplify Indian names for their administrative ease, the British also reinforced caste-based surnames. In South India, for example, people often identified themselves through patronymics or place names, not family names. The British, however, often insisted on fixed surnames, and in the process, elevated caste-based identifiers into permanent surnames. Thus, names like Banappa, Iyer, Naidu, or Reddy became more rigidly codified under colonial pressure.

The 1931 Caste census was the last full caste-based enumeration conducted by the British across India. It was deeply shaped by colonial systems of classification that relied heavily on names and surnames as markers of caste, community, and occupation.

The British emphasis on surnames not only affected how people were recorded and categorized during colonial rule but also reshaped how caste identity was understood and institutionalized. Its legacy was deeply felt in the 1931 census, and its ripple effects complicated modern efforts like Karnataka's Caste census, wherein we still struggled with the complexities of caste, identity, and naming systems all rooted, in part, in colonial administrative logic.

This preference for surnames aligned with the colonial state's interest in categorizing and controlling Indian society. The census and other colonial surveys classified Indians according to religion, caste, and community, reinforcing and institutionalizing social divisions that were more fluid in pre-colonial times.

Even after independence, the bureaucracy emphasis on surnames left a lasting mark. Official documentation, schooling, and job applications continued to follow the two-name system. In many regions, surnames that were once optional or flexible became fixed and passed down generationally, reinforcing caste and community identities in ways that predated colonialism but were reshaped by it.

The British patronized surnames in India not merely for identification, but as a tool of governance, one that both simplified and solidified social categories for administrative convenience and colonial control.

As this evolution deepened, a person's individuality as expressed through their given name became secondary to their role in a familial or communal identity. Where once Ravi or Amina might have stood on its own as a full expression of self, it became necessary to say Ravi Sharma or Amina Khan to place that self in context.

This shift speaks to broader themes of collectivism, legacy, and social belonging. While the given name still holds intimate, personal power, often chosen with love and meaning, it is the surname that institutions  use to file, sort, and recognize us. Even today, despite increasing individualism and changing naming conventions, the shadow of the surname remains strong on forms, in institutions, and in our cultural expectations.

Still, the legacy of the surname endures, reminding us that no matter how unique we strive to be, we are also always part of a larger story.

It is time for the Government of India to take the lead. Surnames should be made optional in all official documents and platforms. Those who wish to retain caste names or family markers should be free to do so by choice.

This is not just a matter of convenience; it is a matter of dignity, identity, and cultural freedom. Naming oneself should not be an act of compliance with a colonial legacy, but a free expression of who one truly is.

"A name is given; a surname is inherited. One speaks of the self, the other of society."

Devanga's Vidhana:

https://t.me/joinchat/T9PZE7wMJss2eol0

https://www.facebook.com/groups/115655385522020/?ref=share

https://www.facebook.com/vidhanadevangas/

Follow the Devanga's Vidhana channel on WhatsApp: https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029Va47xLnEAKWJmneqr60I

#828