A STAND ON IDENTITY

A post warranted from long, but somehow not finding the ravines of thought. Finally, it is here. They say, it is never too late.

This has been a question that has been asked through ages. Every individual despite the hard work of age and education needs to, time and again, define his own identity. But the grim question is, what defines “identity”. And hence, I wanted to make a stand on this aspect.

I was born in the silk city, famed as “Angh Pradesh”, the capital of the great warrior king, “Karna”. Maybe that is what drives my favoritism for satin silk sheets, as periphery of peaceful sleep. And yeah, bravery and standalone “friendship forever” pragmatism, is another stroke of my character. So, what defines my identity? The curse lived by Karna in his stand for friendship or the weaving of silk in pursuance to provide peaceful sleep to the world.

I think, neither. I have lived, shared bread and salt, breathed and enjoyed life with individuals from multi - city background. I have seen the enticing warmth of Hyderabad, the fashion parade of Mumbai, the spice and spark of Delhi, the sweetness of Kolkata, the serene beauty of Shimla and the pious reverence and heavenly abode of Kashmir. I think if there is one blend of all, it will be called “India”, and nothing reminds that more than an India – Pakistan match. An Indian is a born Indian. His attire might be whatsoever, his accent maybe whatsoever, his style maybe whatsoever, but an Indian carries India in his heart. His life maybe whatsoever, but every color of his soul and heart defines that character that upholds the spirit of humanity in priority.

What other factors need a remembrance? Oh, any discussion without the evaluation on the threshold of religion can never find resonance. I was in school, when I took bible as a story book and managed to read it in a night. There were stories of countries and civilization which were lost in the anger of God. And the question that came to my mind was, how a “God” can be most loving who destroys humanity at the whim of a moment. I had done so many mistakes in life, but my dad was always assertively advising, he was never tyrannical. And I lost my faith in Bible. Then started the frequent arrivals of the Muslim cleric. I learnt those “Surahs”. They did sound musical. But, then they made no sense. I couldn’t understand much. To the wishes of my parents I did learnt the basic, but “Al Quran” was an arcade that I never bothered venturing. Later, through one of my close friends I received, “Bhagwat Gita”. The Sanskrit shlokas jingled a music once again. But the contrasting change was that the learning of Sanskrit in school paid off. I was able to understand that “Karma” defines the fate and living of an individual. I could understand that “God” incarnates in one form or other, to safeguard the righteous, to punish the tyrant and to restore order. That made so sense.

But like mom’s delicacy, the best was saved for the last. And it was a “out of coincidence” seminar that I went attending on, “why learning Arabic was important”. The schedule to stick my ass for 20 minutes was lost into an ever memorable flow of logic that lasted for 3 hours. And the reason dawned. I was able to understand “Bhagwat Gita”, and hence it made sense. But “Surahs” from “Al Quran” were Morse codes, waiting to be deciphered. That started a journey to learn Arabic, master it, till I can, not just read, but understand and feel the miracle of Quran. That was when I learnt that Allah is Ar Rahman, and “Rahman” is not just merciful, but Rahman comes from Arabic word, “Rahm”, which is a mother’s womb, where a child partakes warmth, security, safety, benevolence, fooding and lodging without a wink of worry. That is the quantum of Allah’s benevolence.

And now I am back to my question. What or which religion defines an identity? And the answer is none. Because the gist lies in not the instrument of message, but the basic understanding of the message itself. And hence, a person’s identity is not a statistical data pertaining to his nationality, religion, language or culture. It is the understanding of him as a person. It is a venture that continues with the ever changing dynamics of a character. The sketch gets painted with every incidence as a stroke of brush, giving a new color to the identity. Perceptions are born of experiences. And experiences are our interaction and communication with the world around.

The world is not a perfect place, as you can always remark of "contrasting identities in the similar vicinity". Even the five fingers of the same hand are not same. But then, isn’t it logical? After all, life was never meant to be perfect. And hence expectations of a perfect individual is a myth. We are all imperfect in some way. That is what gives us the scope of improvement. Perfection can only be a state that two imperfect people find in being together.

There is so much more to say. But for some other time. It is time to write off.