I,...

It has been more than a year since I've made absolutely any contribution to my blog. So, if there is anybody, any single person in any corner of the world that follows/at least reads my blogs, I'm sorry for having kept you waiting. I don't quite know the exact reason why I haven't written anything. May be, it was just a writer's block or may be, I was so stuck in my life that I couldn't make time for it or even, may be, because I didn't find anything intriguing enough. One more reason and I think this is the real one, could be that I had started writing a short story around two years ago, and I never got to finish it. I just couldn't find the perfect ending. If you're a writer(!?!), you'd understand the disappointment. Whatever the reason was, I couldn't bring myself to write anything all these days. However, I do keep writing in my mind. All the time. More or less like J.D. from 'Scrubs'(A doc intern who narrates his own life to himself).

Anyway, the other day, a friend of mine wanted to borrow some write-ups of mine and he had asked me to pick up my best pieces and send to him. As I went through the stuff I had written during the past few years, I found myself utterly disappointed. What bad, immature writing! No, really. It almost traumatized me. I just didn't find anything I had written, over the past four-ish years, to be worth a read. I don't know if what I'm writing now still is, but I'm just giving it a shot.

This episode, if one may call it so, got me thinking. What I thought was good writing back then is now what I'm disappointed about. Something in me had changed over a span of two years and I didn't even realize it. And now, it all comes chasing me and threatening me to write something. Something, anything. May be two years from now, I will be disappointed again and think this was a horrible piece of writing. But, I have to do this, because I'm in a new pair of shoes now. And yes, they're biting me.

We’re all always looking out for answers to our infinite questions. Most do get answered, but one constant question that almost never gets answered is, "Who Am I?"(Not quite in a Jackie Chan way, though.). We just never seem to know what defines us. What we do, what we think, what we write..does that really define who we are? I'm not really sure. One day we are something, and years later, we are absolutely something else, totally distinct. Is this journey our definition? Or, in this quest of finding who we are, are we losing ourselves?

I always feel like I am giving in to life and its numerous twists and turns. And in that journey, what we call the roller-coaster, I’ve let myself twist and turn as per its demands. I have let it change me and my definition, if there ever was one. I have made myself become what life wants me to. I have to stop that. I have to define myself.

Who am I?

Am I just the canvas which life draws its pictures on?

Some beautiful, some gory!

Am I the river that flows as the road leads on?

A haunting poem or an endless story?

Who am I?

Am I the tiny little stone in the way of a stream,

Only waiting to be turned into a beautiful polished pebble?

Amidst the infinite ways of life,

Am I the follower or am I the rebel?

Who am I?

Will I ever know?

May be I never will. I don’t even know if that question has an answer. But I can’t wait all my life to just discover who I am and what I can do. Like I said, may be two years from now, I will read this post and be absolutely embarrassed by what I have written. I am taking the risk. But I will stop asking the question. It doesn’t matter anyway, because nobody has the answer and I can’t just leave it to my life to decide that for me. I will.

So, I've made my decision. I will stop discovering myself. Instead, I will invent and re-invent the person that I am. And, just like Edison, I will try and err till I finally find light!