Davisha emerges as a lantern lit by moonlight upon the silent pond of language, a modern English name that nevertheless hums with the quiet resonance of Sanskrit—davi, “gift,” and sha, “gentle breath.” In its three syllables one hears the soft exhale of bamboo groves in a Kyoto twilight and the frost-kissed bloom of ume petals unfolding against a pale sky, each carefully balanced curve of its form evoking serene generosity and poetic strength. Though rare in census rolls, its utterance carries the weightless promise of spring’s first lantern festival—an invitation to embrace life as both offering and ode, a name at once cool in its elegance and expansive in its hidden depths.