Who am I?

Who am I? What is my identity?

Questions that have bothered me all my life.

Why should I live? Why should I survive?

I remember as a child, staring at the night sky.

When the breeze would gently kiss my face

as she would pass by.

I would feel for soothing presence

while standing at the balcony

Imagining that the wind was my friend, and running off to the balcony

Just to be greeted by her.

Am I still that imaginative child?

If so, then have I not grown up at all?

If not, then who am I?

I remember being quiet, in a place where being quiet was a crime.

No one could stop talking, while I was lost in the caverns, mountains and forests located somewhere in my mind.

Marvelling at the garden from the window and penning down my thoughts.

In a crowd of loud noises, I was lost.

I remember being put into trial for a heinous crime.

The crime of being quiet.

By a group of chaotic individuals.

Am I that loner?

If so, then how do I have friends now?

If not, then who am I?

I remember the first time I got drenched in the rain.

It was a feeling no words can explain.

When raindrops from heaven showered on me

It was the first time I ever felt free.

I did not care if there was anything for me to lose or gain,

I just fell in love with the rain.

I remember as the rain faded away and petrichor was emanating from the grass.

My question remained.

Who am I?

I remember shaking as a teenager when her lips met mine.

Feeling numb and breathless, when she locked her lips with mine.

I cannot recall anything sweeter

Anything more blissful.

She was like fire, wild and free.

To me, her smile was brighter than the sunshine.

She was the yang to my yin.

However, even she did not have an answer to my questions.

The eternal questions; who am I?

I can vividly recall crying when my maternal grandmother died.

It was like losing a part of me, like a part of me had died.

Shutting myself up for days

Not talking to people, even the ones who were the closest.

I recall sinking, no, I was drowning.

Drowning into depression, unable to face the reality

The reality that she had died.

I do not know if I am still her depressed grandchild.

Perhaps that is why I ask,

Who am I?

I still remember when I stared death in the face.

I almost could not feel my pulses race.

Face to face with my greatest fear

My heart was pounding, but I could not hear.

I still remember that sadistic grin on that cold face.

Yes, I was scared.

As much as death had always intrigued me, I was scared.

Am I that frightened lad? If so, how did I survive and get this far?

The questions persist: Who am I?

What is my identity?

I refuse to believe that I am some mundane entity.

I refuse to be a puppet with strings attached

Controlled by a gibberish concept, known as destiny.

Standing in the rain, drenched to my soul.

I have felt an emptiness in my core.

Yet beyond the dark clouds, I choose to rise.

And go beyond where infinity lies.

Like the phoenix, which burns itself into ashes

Then rises again.

Like that mythical bird, I choose to rise,

From my ashes to where glory lies.

Who am I?

I am a dreamer who dreams,

the one who rises despite all adversities.

This is my identity.

©️Tanay Sengupta 2022, All Rights Reserved.