Anything that requires me to answer the question of who I am or requires me to extend a detailed summary on myself, always has me stumped in depressed
Anything that requires me to answer the question of who I am or requires me to extend a detailed summary on myself, always has me stumped in depressed thought particularly due to the simplicity of the question, naivety of the questioner and my analogical complex frame of thought regarding what makes a human. I decided it was now time to change that complexity and give up all philosophical thought on the matter. I would come up with a definitive answer to the question.
So, there I sat one day, on the tapri stool just outside the business school that was supposed to define me at this stage of my life, chai in one hand, head tilted upwards, in my own rendition of the ‘Buddha in Contemplation.’
Thoughts clouded my little brain, or it could have been the smoke from my other hand, as I tried to figure out who exactly I was. I had a name. Siddharth Agarwal. A feeling of euphoric conclusion rose up my lazy self as I toyed with the words in my mind. Dismay soon followed as I remembered with practiced hate, the multitudes of other Siddharth Agarwals I had had the misfortune of meeting. So this couldn’t be it. I couldn’t be defined just by my name, although it was an important part of me. The question would remain and the confusion would sustain.
So, was I this tall, dark and handsome (I know, I know, allow me to get ahead of myself) person who clothes himself in branded apparel, whose confidence depends somewhat on his hairstyle, or his shoes, or the way his chinos fall into his shoes? Did my exteriors define me? I think not, or why would anyone feel the need to talk to get to know another? No, no interviewer would be satisfied if I told him what he could see and perceive for himself.
Maybe I could define myself by what I do. I, one of the million pursuers of MBA. I, one of the million people interested in travel, music, sport and reading. A million like me, and I one of a million. But this didn’t fare well with me. If I was just to be one of a million, why did I feel like I had to live, like I had some role to fulfill? And I’m sure in a similar way, so does every one of the million feel, though we curse ourselves every day, curse the rat race we’ve landed up in, but we go on, thinking it will all lead to something. Because we’ve been ‘educated’, we’ve forgotten why we’ve chosen to compete. Some find joy in these affairs, and I envy them for they’ve found their way in the broadest path. I lost mine long back and with it I lost my direction. I surely couldn’t define myself by calling myself lost and directionless. Let’s go further.
Maybe, I can define myself by that ‘something’ which I think my present endurance will lead to. So, to be that corporate rock star, salesman of the year, owner of swanky cars, leader, and blah are that something my present endurance with lead to, coupled with a little extra effort. But, just thinking about it bores me, I realize I don’t want to be any of this, except maybe own a few swanky cars.
I have not yet found my answer. I only know till now what I am not, and all this through experience. If I hadn’t committed to an MBA I would never have known that it wasn’t my way. I awaken, enlightened. Experience defines me. My successes, my failures, my decisions. I cannot leave it to the mind to come up with an answer. I am a sum total of all that has happened to me and all that I expect will happen to me. I am nothing, and I am everything.