Sanjna

by Sanjna Pandit

Gentleness, conscientiousness

Those words defined me the moment I was born,

when I was wrapped in blankets, cooing away.

A fragile, innocent bundle of nothing,

a speck in the universe,

no title to call me by.

My parents wanted a girl with a clean heart,

unique as a snowflake, a beacon of sunlight.

They got what they wished for.

I think so, at least.

And it all started with my name.

The moment the word leaves my dad’s lips,

traveling through space and time,

entering my ear and taking in the sound,

I hear my name.

It wraps me up in its warmth

and I grow with it.

Days, months, years go by

and I grow with it.

It becomes more than a label, a trifling word on a birth certificate.

It is my name.

Did I wish I had another one when I was an eyeglass-wearing fourth-grader? Yes.

Were there times when I sat stiff as a London guard, dreading attendance in every class?

Of course.

Frustration did bubble under the surface, nearly bursting to shout, “It’s S-A-N-J-N-A!”

But would I trade my name for any other? Never.

And let’s be honest: it’s six letters all pronounced like the normal English alphabet.

Not that hard.

Just try, if you would, or maybe don’t try.

Sometimes when you try too hard, things go downhill, and you are left wondering why this black-

haired girl stares you dead in the eye while you try for the tenth time to navigate the seemingly

complicated patterns of her name.

Maybe if you took a leap of faith, pronounced all the letters in the way they are arranged, you will

have a beautiful name leaving your lips. My beautiful name.

Gentleness, conscientiousness

Sanjna