'Simran' means 'to remember. It's merely an infinitive verb, which is to say that its meaning at death could differ from its meaning at birth. I wasn't lent the name of a star that is already bright or put under the ambitious translation of an adjective that has already established itself in language. Instead, on the 12th day after I was born, my father smeared half a sentence onto a betel leaf, whispered it into my ear, and left me to find the rest of it.
(look for what you will, keep what you want, keep it carefully)
I could store in my name a whisper or a cab ride or the sound of my grandmother's footsteps, pack it in 6 letters and take it wherever I go. When I say this, I mean I have wine-stained blouses and two-hour thirty-seven-minute-long phone conversations stuffed between vertebrae. I mean my bones smell like the change in the air at six p.m. and dadi boiling her tea the way only she likes it. I mean when you burn me, I'll combust into bright yellow smoke, kiss the sky, stay there, and you'll remember.
You'll remember.

- I cannot offer you the sun or the stars, but this.