Names as Destiny: The Symbolism Behind Aanya and Ayaan in Anagram Destiny

What if the letters in your name held more than identity—what if they held your destiny?

In Anagram Destiny, Dr. Grishma Shah introduces us to Aanya—a first-generation Indian-American whose life unfolds across two timelines: 1980s Georgia and 2008 Mumbai. At first glance, Aanya’s story may appear to be about cross-continental movement, cultural tension, and career reinvention. But at its heart lies something quieter and more profound: a name, a memory, and the realization that sometimes, our lives are formed by how we rearrange what we already carry.

Early in the novel, Aanya discovers that her name and her childhood friend Ayaan’s are anagrams of each other. The book states: “Their names, Aanya learned much later in life, were an anagram… She was too young to understand then that names could become destinies”. This discovery becomes a recurring motif throughout the story. It reflects not only Aanya and Ayaan’s bond but also serves as a metaphor for how identity and memory are constructed—by rearranging fragments of the past into something meaningful.

The novel’s structure mirrors this concept of duality. Set between Georgia and Mumbai, the narrative moves between two major phases of Aanya’s life: her childhood, shaped by immigrant hardship and cultural complexity, and her adulthood, shaped by ambition, grief, and return. As a child growing up in a motel managed by her parents, Aanya experiences both belonging and otherness. In her adult life, now a tech consultant sent to India on a high-stakes assignment, she faces the emotional weight of returning to a place that others assume is “home.”

One particularly resonant line captures this tension: “Aanya understood that this was where the world thought she belonged… but home?”. This disconnect—between external assumptions and internal truth—is one that many first-generation individuals know intimately.

This novel is not only a story of love and loss but also a reflection on identity, memory, and emotional healing. Through the metaphor of an anagram, Shah reminds us that our stories are rarely linear—and that sometimes, the pieces of who we are only make sense once they’re rearranged.