The Narratives – Mohamed Miah

My middle name is Ibrahim—a name with deep roots, both spiritual and personal. It was chosen for me by my grandfather, a man of wisdom and tradition, who named me after the Prophet Ibrahim (Abraham, peace be upon him). In Islam, Ibrahim is a towering figure, known for his unwavering faith and sacrifice. To carry his name is an honour, a reminder of resilience, submission to the Divine, and the weight of legacy.

But my name doesn’t end there. My full name, Mohamed Ibrahim Jahan Raj Miah, is a tapestry woven from faith, history, and perhaps, a touch of accidental bureaucracy.

• Mohamed anchors my identity in Islam, tying me to the name of the final Prophet (peace be upon him).

• Jahan Raj—a poetic phrase that could mean ruler of the world, an affectionate embellishment rather than a literal title.

• Miah is the amusing twist. Our actual surname is Akondo, but my grandfather—whether through choice or a misunderstanding at immigration—opted for Miah, which simply means “Mr.” It’s as if the paperwork asked for a surname, and he thought it meant sir name, so he wrote Miah—a story both humorous and telling of the immigrant experience.

Yet, what makes this even more fascinating is the history behind Akondo. From what I’ve heard, my great-grandfather was an imam, and my family likely comes from a lineage of Islamic scholars or religious leaders. This aligns with the historical meaning of Akondo (also spelled Akhund, Akhand, Akanda, Akon, Akond)—a title awarded to Islamic scholars, commonly used in Iran, Afghanistan, Tajikistan, Pakistan, Bangladesh, and Azerbaijan. In Bengal, it eventually became a hereditary family name.

This suggests that my ancestors weren’t just ordinary people; they were figures of knowledge, faith, and leadership—teachers of Islamic scholarship, spiritual guides, and respected members of their communities. My surname was more than just a name; it was a title of honour, a legacy of faith, and a mark of scholarly wisdom.

So, does my middle name hold significance? Absolutely. But beyond that, my entire name is a link to something greater than myself—a whisper of my grandfather’s voice, a reflection of my family’s history, and a connection to a long line of Islamic tradition.

A name isn’t just something you answer to—it’s something you live up to.