I first realized my name wasn’t common on my first day of kindergarten. Walking to my desk, heart racing, I was eager to embark on this new journey. The concept of attendance was foreign to me. As the teacher called names, I waited in anticipation. Then it happened—the first time my name was completely butchered. I was too young to feel embarrassed or disappointed, but I noticed the stares and faint giggles around me. That was the first time my name made me feel different. At first, it was amusing, but as I grew, the mispronunciations felt like cracks in my identity.

Darshannie. Ten letters, three syllables, and a symphony all its own—a reminder that I was different. Where did it come from? The story begins on the day I was born. My mother spoke on the phone with her spiritual counselor, who was on a mission trip in India, and he shared a word that resonated deeply: darshan, meaning “blessed by God.” She instantly knew this encapsulated what she desired for her daughter. True to her creative spirit, my mother “added [her] own flourish—an extra ‘n,’ ‘i,’ and ‘e’—transforming the word into something entirely her own” (Drackett). With each misstep and melody, my name carved its own place in the world.

Curiosity led me to search for the meaning of my name. At first, nothing surfaced—no surprise, given my mother’s personal touch. Yet I discovered that “Darshani has Hindu roots, resonating with themes of divine vision and grace” (First Cry Parenting). This is something I’ve always loved about my name because, in many ways, it has allowed me to reconnect with my faith.

As a teenager, introducing myself felt daunting. Others saw this as trivial, but it chipped away at my confidence. People even asked if they could call me something else, as though my name were an inconvenience rather than a reflection of me. Each request carried an undertone of discomfort, amplifying my inner conflict.

Nevertheless, time softened my insecurities and sharpened my sense of self. Today, I treasure my name for its complexity and beauty. Rather than viewing it as a burden, I see it as a reflection of my uniqueness. It tells the story of a mother’s love and creativity. The more I embrace it, the more I realize how much it sets me apart in a society that favors what feels comfortable.

My name may not be easy to pronounce, but it carries a melody all its own—a song of identity, spirituality, and individuality.