In my cultural tradition, names are bestowed as precious gifts by our parents. Nevertheless, as I traversed the path of my upbringing, I found myself harboring reservations about the names bestowed upon me. These names elicited within me a complex blend of emotions, from identity quandaries to bewilderment, from moments of regret to wellsprings of joy. At certain junctures along my life's journey, I even contemplated relinquishing my original name in favor of a new one. However, a profound realization dawned upon me: my name serves as the indelible thread that binds me to my past, shaping the person I was and the person I have become. Names are not merely labels but precious gifts, each one bearing a unique significance.
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