Who am I?
Am I
The blood, flesh, nerves and bones?
Or
The phlegm, spittle, urine or turd?
The eyes, ears, nose ,and tongue,
Or
The skin, nails, hair and breathe?
Who am I?
Am I
The one who has a name?
Who
Is dark, funny and helpful?
Or
The one who has a genealogy
With
A family name, class and creed?
Who am I?
Am I
The experiencer of personal grief and joy,
Envy, jealousy, greed or shame?
Ecstasy, gratitude, pride and Love?
Or is it
My memories that determine who I am?
Who am I ?
Am I
Constituted by my thoughts, ideas, beliefs and quirks?
Or my
Philosophies, religion, ideologies and dogmas?
Am I
The one with compassion, patriotism,
Sacrifice and pain?
Or am I
The only one who asks the question
Who am I?
Am I
Of atoms, molecules, enzymes and chemicals
That course through the body
Or the breath that enters and leaves
And connects me to the universe
Who
Am I?
Am I
The physical, the emotional, the intellectual
And psychological
Or
the categorical, theological
intentional, causal, autobiographical
or
the temporal, spatial, evocative, interpersonal?
Who
Am I?
Am I
The child loved by his parents
Or
the boy who played with his peers
Am I the brat?
Who could never sit still?
Or
the brother
Who always wanted to win?
Who
am I?
Am I the lover
Whose love knew no bounds
Or the father whose concerns are all too real
Am I
The cousin, nephew, uncle or son in law
Or am I
Merely who I call ‘I’
Who
Am I?
Am I
The Bengali growing up in Bihar
Or the
‘Khotta’ spending time in Bengal?
Am I
The north Indian settling down in south India?
Or the Asian
Living in Great Britain?
Who
Am I?
Am I
One who often works wonders
Or
The drug crazed misfit who lives
In the dumps?
The Kishore-‘kanthi’ who could yoddle and woo
Or
The axe-wielding guitarist a-la Motley
Crue?
Who
Am I?
Am I
The eastern cultured in western garbs?
Or the Western intellect with an eastern spirit?
The artist, poet
Dreamer, genius, the psychotic
Or
The analytical, ethical, grounded man of earth?
Who
Am I?
Am I
The cultural, anthropological, Darwinian organism?
Or
The ephemeral, ethereal, unfathomable?
Or
The intrepid, individual or collective unconscious?
Who am I?
Am I this
Or Am I that
A bit of it and bit of wit?
And does it matter
Who calls me what?
For there is no one really in here
Who asks the question
Who am I?
I set aside the question
And ask myself another
Perhaps it is the question
And not me asking it
That poses the problem?
I rephrase it to:
What am I without another?
The existence of whom
Gives me reason to ponder
Who am I?
