WHO AM I REALLY? (Slightly adapted from கவிக்கோ அப்துர் ரஹ்மானின் ஆலாபனையிலிருந்து 'நான் யார்?')

When my daughter calls me ‘My dad,’ I am born into a father. 

When my mother speaks ‘My son,’ I retreat back into the boy. 

When my brother calls me ‘Brother,’ I step into the frame of a brother. 

Each relative gives me a name, and in the space between their breath and my name, I dissolve and reform into the person they expect to see. 

I speak their scripts; I move to their cadence. 

But in the quiet, a question lingers: Am I truly living these roles, or am I merely playing them with rehearsed perfection?

Life feels like a vast, crowded stage, and I wonder how many characters I am meant to inhabit before the curtain falls. 

Every role comes pre-written with its own dialogues, leaving me to ask if I have ever spoken a single word of my own. 

Do I have a say in my own life, or Am I only an actor following the director’s light? I am not sure.

Everyone chooses a convenient title for me, fitting me neatly into the puzzle of their lives. But when I look in the mirror, what title do I claim for myself? Do I even have a choice? 

Each character is cast so precisely, yet my real self remains hidden backstage, waiting for an entry that never comes. 

Who am I beneath all these assigned names? 

Am I a seamless blend of every role given to me, or the accumulated noise of all the titles I answer to? 

Is there a genuine 'I' waiting to be found?

And then, softly breaking through the noise, my wife calls me ‘My dear’—and for a moment, the stage fades… Love remains and it made perfect sense of this drama.