About me
Everyone has quirks, but mine is a little more, let’s say, distinct. You see, I’m a single person with not one, but two names. Let me tell you the curious story of how this came to be—a mix of destiny, numerology, and a liberal dose of humour and a touch of mysticism.
When I was born, I was named Sofia Tippoo. A unique name by itself for an Indian, blending the Bulgarian capital “Sofia” with “Tippoo,” inspired by the South Indian ruler Tipu Sultan. Most people spell it as “Sophia,” which translates to “divine wisdom” from ancient Greek. My parents, however, skipped the classical route, giving me a name that was unique, memorable, and unorthodox.
For years, Sofia was my constant companion. Then one day, a numerologist—armed with numbers, charts, and mystical jargon—happened to pass through my life. He insisted that my name wasn’t doing me any favours. After crunching my birth date and name values, he declared my life was riddled with more of “negative power” than “positive ions” (whatever that meant I am yet to figure out). While he couldn’t alter my birth date, he was determined to tweak my name to align the cosmic scales.
Cue the arithmetic experiments. He shuffled letters, played with permutations, and after what felt like a symphony of scribbles, emerged triumphant. “No more “o”s he announced. In their place came the “u”s, birthing my new identity: Sufia Tippu. Same person, shinier name, still waiting for those positive ions.
The result? A dual identity. Old friends know me as Sofia, while new acquaintances meet Sufia. Which name you choose depends on how far back our history goes.
And so, the tale of my two names is yours to interpret. Pick the one you like. Just know, no matter the spelling, it’s still just me—two names, one story, and a lot of laughs along the way.
Well, the story doesn’t end here – there is something else you should know about me.
Having an unusual name has its own perks and pitfalls—especially when working as a journalist for two of India’s leading English newspapers, The Times of India and The Financial Express (then part of The Indian Express group, before the split and restructuring).
The biggest perk? Readers rarely forget the name. Seriously, never. Faces, on the other hand, can fade from memory—understandable after nearly three decades in the reporting business.
But the name? It’s etched in people’s minds like a headline in bold print.
Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Well, that depends entirely on the story they remember me for. If it was a piece that painted them in a positive light, my name brings back fond memories. If it was an exposé or something they’d rather not recall, let’s just say, my name might provoke a more… mixed reaction.
Ultimately, it’s both a blessing and a challenge—a constant reminder of the impact of journalism and the way it ties a name to narratives that linger long after the ink has dried or let’s say the newsprint had faded.