I’ve consciously kept away from two things my entire life — religion and sports (especially football and cricket). The unnecessary hype, the mass hysteria, the blind fanaticism — it just never made sense to me. When I was pregnant with my eldest, I was told I’d become a mother by August. Like any typical mother (fathers usually aren’t as invested in this part), I set off on an excited, determined hunt for a unique name — something rooted in Sanskrit, something that reflected my values, my philosophy, and the kind of person I hoped my child would grow to be. But life had other plans. In July — much earlier than expected — I was rushed to the emergency room, and my son was born almost a month ahead of schedule. By the time I fully regained my senses, my son had already been named — after St. Thomas. Why St. Thomas? How was this connected to my pregnancy, my delivery, or anything I stood for? I had never known the significance of July 3rd for Indian Christians until my son was b...