Who am I?

Who am I??

This one question, which I keep asking myself, has become the source of both my aenoian misery and perpetual drive to self-discovery. Am I the same person who I see in the pictures adorning the walls of my home or am I the person whose silhouette I see on the reflecting surfaces around me? Am I the person whose stories of distant past, my mother-father, uncles-aunts and brothers-sisters, keep narrating of or am I the person who the poems on the pages of my old hardcover-diary portray? 

When did that chubby, toothless, bald kid in the postcard-pictures of my father’s old family albums grow up to become this cynical, arrogant, narcissist man? I am sure that if you look at those pictures and then look at me, you might not find much resemblance. When did destiny shape my body and my mind to who I am today? Why are there no materialistic evidences of the thought processes and changes that I was going through as a developing child? 

I have no answer to the looming question in my mind. I only know who I was because of the small living proofs all around me. There is no evidence to correlate my present existence to my past actuality. People who claim to know me, only know the person who I was in the past. I change, just like every other living thing on this planet. And it is not always possible to keep in touch with a variable all the time. 

Self-assessment has never been kind to anyone, seldom to people who take themselves in high regard. But my mind does not seem to like the idea of lengthy happiness periods. It keeps asking me the same question of my perpetuity. So, till the time I find the truth behind myself, why don’t you ask yourself the same question. When did you become, you? What moulded you to your present self? 

Who are you? ~ Saurav Goyal