Naming you was supposed to be the fun part. And in some ways it was. But it was also a puzzle that none of us could quite crack for longer than we expected.
The day you were born, your Nana made their way to the Gurudwara for your Naam Karan. This is how it begins, by placing the question in front of something bigger than any of us. The Hukamnama that day carried the line:
ਭਗਤਾ ਦੀ ਸਦਾ ਤੂ ਰਖਦਾ ਹਰਿ ਜੀਉ ਧੁਰਿ ਤੂ ਰਖਦਾ ਆਇਆ ॥
Bhagathaa Dhee Sadhaa Thoo Rakhadhaa Har Jeeo Dhhur Thoo Rakhadhaa Aaeiaa ||
You always preserve the honor of Your devotees, O Dear Lord; You have protected them from the very beginning of time.
ਸੋਰਠਿ (ਮਃ ੩) ਅਸਟ. (੧) ੧:੧ - ਗੁਰੂ ਗ੍ਰੰਥ ਸਾਹਿਬ : ਅੰਗ ੬੩੭ ਪੰ. ੧੩
The word that came forward was ਭਗਤਾ (Bha-ga-thaa). And so the letters for your name were set: B, G, and T.
What We Had in Mind
We had been quietly carrying two names long before you arrived. Harjas. Jasman. They were not random picks. Harjas carried the start of your Dad’s name, Harman. Jasman carried the start of your Mum’s name, Jastinder. A small thread from each of them, woven into something new for you. Both felt right in different ways, both had a certain softness and warmth to them.
But neither matched the letters. And so we let them go.
Then your Bhuaji stepped in with a suggestion. She wanted something cool. Something different. Something that would stand out.
That something was Gavin.
There was a pause. And then a very firm no from your Dad’s side.
The Hunt Begins
So the search started properly. Dad had one clear wish: your name should carry a Punjabi touch. It should feel like it belongs to where we come from, even if you are growing up on the other side of the world.
But the letters were not making things easy. B, G, and T, and a sea of options that all felt like they had already been used a hundred times over. So many names starting with Gur. So many starting with Bhu. And the T? Almost nothing in Punjabi that felt right.
The requirements slowly took shape, the way requirements always do when a family is involved:
- Keep it short
- No names that split in two, like your Dad’s name Harman, or Dada’s name Deep, or Par-dada’s name Nand
- Unique, cool, and genuinely different
- Punjabish at heart
- Something a Kiwi could say without too much trouble
That last one mattered more than it sounds. You are going to grow up here. People are going to call your name at school, at sport, at work one day. We wanted it to land well in every mouth.
More Than a Week of Searching
It took more than a week. More scrolling than anyone will admit to. More conversations over text and phone than we can count. Names would rise up, feel promising for a day, and then quietly lose their shine.
And then, slowly, Gursez found its way to the top.
Yes, it still carries Gur at the front, which was not quite what Dad had hoped to avoid. But everything else fit. It is short. It does not split. It is not something you will find on a keychain at a gift shop. It has a Punjabi warmth to it. And it sits comfortably in the mouth however you say it.
We named you Gursez. And we hope, when you are old enough to hold it fully, you will like it too.
There is something quietly right about the way it happened. A hymn in the early hours of your life, a letter pulled from something ancient, and a family circling around a name until it settled. That is how you became you.