Picture little Ambrielle bounding across a marigold-strewn courtyard at Diwali, her name as luminous as the diyas that flicker at dusk – a melodic fusion of angelic Hebrew whispers (from Ambriel, the guardian of Aries), the warm honeyed glow of amber and the soft French “belle.” Though she still tiptoes around the 900s in US baby charts, with just a dozen or so newborns each year, she shines like a saffron comet slicing through a cloudy sky. Effortless to pronounce (am-bree-EL), Ambrielle rolls off the tongue like a secret poem, brimming with playful mischief, celestial curiosity and the promise of epic adventures. Every syllable feels like a dance of light and laughter, weaving ancient lore and festive Indian traditions into one joyful, glittering story.