Some mornings I wake up with exactly the same questions in my mind. In fact, there’ve been mornings when I’ve woken everyone up by running around the house in my pajamas, shouting, asking…no…demanding answers to these very questions.
“Who I am?” I fill my lungs with the toxic air of Delhi, and scream at the top of my voice.
“It’s 7 in the morning. You need to get milk from Mother Dairy,” wifey’s voice floats in from the kitchen.
“Why am I here?” I scream again, ignoring her demands on my time.
“That’s a question only your mom and dad can answer,” she calls back.
That, and the aroma from the cup of tea that wifey careens under my nose, wake me up. The moment I open my eyes, she puts the cup down on the table, reminds me to fetch milk and take the garbage out, and disappears.
So, you see, I still don’t have an answer to that question – in the broader sense, I mean. Rest is hopefully answered on this About page here.