Great wars have been fought over names in the last couple of decades and India too has had its share in this general strife over names, naming and re-naming. Many major cities of India have been renamed-Bombay, Madras, Calcutta-as part of de-colonization and de-Anglicization. That our TV announcers and newsreaders manage to anglicize these newly given native names is altogether another matter. Two more names remain, as yet, untouched in this movement for restoration of an original or a pre-colonial identity: India and its capital Delhi. It is not difficult to imagine why. Renaming the nation overnight, in the first place, is not easy and more importantly, can we find a non- controversial name for our highly diverse terrain? In the case of Madras or Calcutta or Bombay it was easy to opt for a regional name and find the majority approval. But if India is to be renamed or Delhi is to be rechristened the alternative has to be pan-Indian. Anything pan-Indian, we know, will necessarily invoke the colonial history, and therefore it is best to let the status quo remain.

On a minor scale, Amitav Ghosh's withdrawal from the Commonwealth Prize recently has once again revived an old debate over the nomenclature 'Commonwealth literature' referring to writing in English from the ex-colonies (see pages 6-7). While the departments, institutes and associations of Commonwealth literature gained academic importance and served as useful fora for discussing the writing, as well as the resistance, of the peoples of ex-colonies, the unease about the continuing use of the term 'Commonwealth' grew stronger and figured prominently in critical debates and discussions. Eventually, 'Commonwealth' became 'Postcolonial', but that has not proved to be a much happier alternative either. One important change we find in the use of this umbrella term is the extension of its scope to include not only writing in English but also writing in other local languages. For instance, IACLALS which still functions under the name "Indian Association for Commonwealth Literature and Language Studies" has expanded its scope and made it clear that language does not mean English alone and that literature includes forms other than writing. Even as the name remained the same, what it denoted has radically changed.

That the Commonwealth Foundation has not expanded its domain to include local and regional language literatures is one of the two objections Ghosh registers: "… it seems to me that 'the Commonwealth' can only be a misnomer so long as it excludes the many languages that sustain the cultural and literary lives of these countries". One cannot disagree with Ghosh on this count; in fact that he is sensitive to the privileging of those who write in English over writers in local languages needs to be noted and appreciated.

Another reason, which he calls the 'Principal', is that "this phrase anchors an area of contemporary writing not within the realities of the present day, nor within the possibilities of the future, but rather within a disputed aspect of the past." Is it possible to imagine how the present or the immediate future of ex-colonies, whose writing is under consideration here, can be severed from certain undisputed facts of the past? For instance, categories such as Dalit writing or Aborigine writing or Black writing are meant to highlight the trajectories of certain specific constituencies and their embattled histories. The same is the case with Commonwealth or Postcolonial writing.

Names are important, old and new ones. But of greater consequence are the attitudes they carry.