By Anonymous
In Sanskrit, my name means Polaris, the North Star. In English my name means, well, nothing. How can one describe it? It’s like sandpaper, rough, and grainy: it’s the sound made by someone wheezing or coughing; it’s a quick burst of sound, with no tune.
It has always been a great name, but when they discourage it, it becomes hoarse and scratchy. At home, however, it’s a slice of butter, smooth and silky. When my parents say it, it’s a piece of melody, short and pleasing. If every name played a role in heaven, mine would be an endless flowing river, or a hummingbird singing one of its sweet songs.
In India, it was the name of an innocent boy, who grew up to be a great king who ruled the land for many years. After he died, he became Polaris, Dhruv in Sanskrit. Hundreds of years later, on the other side of the earth, a boy is pursuing his dream with hope and passion strengthened by his name: Dhruv. He wears it with pride and confidence, regarding it as a reminder that always motivates him to live up to his dream.
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