Sky is not the limit. You are.
‘Who am i?’ Fuck Knows. Friends said, “compassionate heart with considerable virtuosity.”
Social Norms said, ” weak girl with a brittle ego, easy to smother yet highly coveted when behaving ‘appropriately’.”
Mother said, obviously surprised at the absurdity of the question, ” whoever you want to be darling. Just come home on time. And the CAT form is on the table.”
Daddy said, well he dint say anything and passed on the chappatis. teehee. Just kidding.
He said, ” My daughter and i am proud of you but you have to get serious now.”
Her pet said, “thank you, you are my universe.”
None of the answers were ever conclusive, mere clues to an unknown destination. Every answer had her swaying in the direction of the wind of uncertainty.
The rage within her was becoming an active volcano, the rage of not knowing, and if erupted, it would be the death of her.
It was killing her, to be caught in this existential trap. Her love for life was now caught between wiki searches and silent rage.
She closed her eyes and pushed away all the clutter from her mental drawer. Every memory, every experience, every person thrown out like old socks. She focussed her energies into the indefinite nothingness. And she had a vision. A vision of herself, not body, but her ‘self’ this time. She was on a ladder to a grand revelation.
The answer presented itself to her. The answer was never outside the question, much like her ‘self’ was never defined by the connections she made outside of her ‘self’ or the things she did. People were simply saying things that mirrored their history and passion and attaching their encounter with her as an outlet. They were just saying things to her that projected their own fear, suffering, love, expectations, conventions and needs through their interaction with her. When all that excess outside baggage is let go, what remains is ‘I’. The indelible and invincible ‘I’.
She felt a new kind of rage, a rage that no longer weakened her, it only invigorated her.
Dresses, t-shirts, pants, dint cut it for her any more. What she wore had to be a celebration of her ‘self’, a self that’s undivided, complete and comfortable in knowing that the only answer that would ever matter was always found. It had to be the beautiful pair of Blue Overalls.
She was no longer slave to validation and was salvaged from the perilous self doubt. She could be delicate, rugged, beautiful , ugly, kind, evil, everything and nothing at all. The possibilities were endless and brimming with a positive rage.
“WHO AM I?
I AM ‘I’.”
Thank you Kavita Gupta, my photographer par excellence, for doing a kick ass job yet again. XOXO