Ananya. That's what I hear in my name. It's three nice, long, perfect syllables. A-nun-ya. Maybe it could be a nice, royal purple. Or a loving pink. In Hindi, it means unique. Special. Different. One of a kind. Just like the name itself. In another root, Sanskrit, it can mean endless. Going on and on. A nice calm blue, with some dignity in it. It could be a nice high flute. Or even a feisty fanfare on a trumpet. A sad tune of goodbye on a cello. It could have the anger and power of the sun, beating down. Or it could have the chill of the first snow. Almost like my birthday. November 24. In some parts of the world, it could hold the beauty of fruit. Guavas, Lychees, Mangos. Bright bursting colors, each with a unique flavor to it. In other places, the freedom of the wind, coming with the first snow. A rabbit on the Earth saw to this date. An archer in the sky to my name. The perfect, completely unique combination of numbers- 11/24. A beautiful, flaky snow saw to this birth of mine. And the stars will look upon it forever. The combination. Ananya born on November 24th. Forever unique.
