Who am I? Part 2-Nayana--- by Nayana Gadkari

It had to be late at night. It was muscle memory to do it then. Armed with ginger chai, a silent cry for help heavenward (Baba help!), and “online” copies of the Thesaurus and Wren & Martin this time, I sat down to write my speech. Who was I going to fling my laptop at? I chuckled wryly.

 

It is the strangest question, “Who are you?”. Just when I thought I had been asked all conceivable outlandish questions thus far. “Who am I?” What kind of an audacious question is that?

 

I started writing, “I am a mother,” and then, quite inexplicably, I couldn’t think of anything else. Cups of chai, and an hour later, the one line I wrote on the screen blinked back at me, mockingly. I had to be more, didn’t I? I picked up a photo of my dad and me that is always perched on a ledge in my kitchen. In that old sepia-tinted photograph, he is holding a snake with its hood raised in one hand and a 6-month-old me in the other, looking entirely fascinated by him. In every sense, that photo fully captures my bond with my dad, I went through life awestruck by him.

“Always the maverick,” I rolled my eyes mentally. And precisely at that moment, thoughts and words tumbled out in a harried jumble. I started writing about my journey through life first as a daughter, sister, friend, disciple, lover and wife, and then as a mother and mentor. As I wrote, I realized how much of our parents we carry within us, and I am not talking just about the “double helix”. I am a nurturer, I cherish my relationships. I may not be the effervescent Gatsby that my father was, but like him, I pride myself in bringing the inspiring and the inspired together, creating a warm, inviting space in my home to celebrate and revel in “Freudenfreude”.  I invest in people and nothing else, my emotional bonds are my greatest wealth.

 

By the next day, my speech was written, rehearsed and delivered with my usual trained flair, hands flung appropriately in the air, choked precisely where my dad would have asked me to get emotional. Clap clap, well done Nayana, etc. It was also when I discovered that no actual trophies are awarded once you are all grown-up!

 

As I went home with my mental trophy and looked at Baba’s photo later that evening; I knew I hadn’t even begun to capture the essence of the question, not by any stretch. I had appropriately described “What am I,” yet the “Who” remained elusive. Explaining the Who would take a lifetime because it will take a lifetime to live it, perhaps several of those.

 

And then I told my snake-wielding Baba, “You were right again, darn it! I should have chosen a verse from the Bhagwat Gita to close out my speech!!”

 

aham atma gudakesa

sarva-bhutasaya-sthitah

aham adis cha madhyam cha

bhutanam anta eva cha

 

I am the Self seated in the hearts of all creatures. I am the beginning, the middle, and the end. We all are…