Olive: Named in Jest, Flourishing in Joy

We had first seen her when she was a tiny, precarious, underweight baby in an incubator. She will be eleven in a few months.

A bright girl, she tops her class even though she isn’t particularly fond of maths. She has been training in Bharatanatyam for five years and has already performed at national and international venues, winning several awards.

Prisha Mishra (Olive) performing at Cheo Theatre, Hanoi, Vietnam.

“Why named Olive?” I asked her grandma.

“Well,” she smiled, “during his high school years her father was addicted to cartoon serials on TV — particularly Popeye. Annoyed and exasperated, I had threatened to name his first-born after a cartoon character. And lo and behold, he fathered a skinny, frail girl. As vowed, I named her Olive.”

Olive — named after Olive Oyl, the adorable cartoon character created by E.C. Segar in 1919 — is true to her name.

Garrulous, hyper-active, and a sheer bundle of joy.
A fan of Master Chef shows, and already into cooking solo as a hobby.

“Today my friends are coming home for a dance rehearsal. We’ll perform remotely for our Dance Guru, who is getting married next week in Bhubaneswar. Our loving present for her! And for my friends, I’m making chilli paneer,” she briefed me in a single breath.

“How old is your Guru?” I asked.

“Don’t know, never asked. Maybe 28.”

“Mama, there is no capsicum in the fridge, please order some right away, or my dish will not be ready when my friends arrive!” she hollered from the kitchen, where she was all by herself dicing paneer into neat cubes.

What could grandma do but rush someone to fetch the vegetable from a nearby vendor?

Mama was mildly annoyed.
“Why must you spend so much time in the kitchen? Have you even finished your homework? And why do you need to wash your hands so often and spill water all over the floor?”

“Sorry, Mama. Can you please mop the floor for me? I’m busy cooking, don’t you see? Thanks, I love you so much!”

I don’t much fancy paneer, but I sampled a few pieces. It was rather good, considering she had made it herself, following a recipe from a Master Chef episode.

The next day she presented another creation — apple slices dipped in melted chocolate and frozen.

“Try a piece or two; the rest are for me and my friends.”

That too was yummy.

“Did you use chocolate powder?” I asked.

“No, I just melted a slab of real chocolate.”

What fascinates me is her adorable versatility and easy confidence. She is often jittery before a performance, said her mother, but once she steps onto the stage, she is calm and confident. 

She raids the kitchen, negotiates grocery shortages, manages rehearsal logistics, and balances homework with choreography, all with the assurance of someone far older. Yet she remains, unmistakably, eleven: quick to chatter, quicker to laugh, and entirely unburdened by self-consciousness.

Olive Oyl, from the old Popeye cartoons, was tall, cheerful, and a little bit silly — yet large-hearted and resilient. Being unique was her defining trait. The name has travelled across a century and continents, from American newsprint to an Indian household, shedding caricature and acquiring affection along the way.

Who, then, had the last laugh — the grandmother who named her Olive to tease her son, or the little girl who is graceful on the dancing stage, and as much at home in the kitchen as the oil after which she was named?

A name given in jest, it became prophetic in a way. 

Little Olive, bright and sweet,
From tiny steps to dancing feet;
Fills her home with delightful chatter,
Warmth, love, and sparkling laughter.

A precious parting gift I got on Feb 14 from Olive, my newest Valentine!

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