Astara—pronounced ah-STAH-ruh—was first a breezy Persian port on the Caspian, but the name soon hit the road like a Bollywood train song, picking up the Persian word setareh and the Sanskrit tara, both meaning “star,” and stitching them into one glimmering sash. Her syllables tumble out like sparklers, bright yet light, and the play on “a star” makes even Grandpa crack a wink. She’s rare enough to feel like a secret constellation—never more than a few dozen births a year in the U.S.—so a little Astara is almost guaranteed front-row tickets to originality. Imagine her racing through monsoon puddles, chasing fireflies that match her name, moon-gazing during Diwali, and turning every power cut into a candlelit story hour; the very sound of Astara whispers that the sky is her map and adventure her birthright.