A crisis called Identity…

I hail from a community with a strange mix of cultures. Our community is a mixture of Rajasthan, Gujarat and South India. So, when I am asked where I hail from, I have a complicated answer to give.

I didn’t really experience an identity crisis till last year when I went to one of the IPL matches held in Mumbai. It was a match between Mumbai Indians and Rajasthan Royals…

I was a staunch supporter of the Mumbai Indians as the match began. I guess, it was more because of the strong influence of the crowd and the exuding passion from all sides. But, as the second inning began my support for the Mumbai Indians shook. I was a little confused. Being born and brought up in Rajasthan I could feel some internal force constantly condemning me for not supporting the team.

By the time the match approached its end my neighbors too could notice the confusion. The height of confusion was hit when I yelled out Malinga’s name (then in the MI team) very harmoniously with the crowd and suddenly started cheering for Shane Warne (the then captain of RR) when he struck a 4 and a 6 on Malinga’s delivery!

I saw my friends staring back at me in disbelief as if questioning my Cricket Integrity! I felt the pangs of guilt. Yet, my Rajasthani pride did not let me accept it as a wrong doing. So, I strongly retorted, “Guys I am here to support good cricket, OK! It’s Shane Warne’s last match. Poor guy deserves some cheering, yaar.”

Malinga’s balling, Bhajjis deliveries and Sachin’s sheer presence; I indeed was enjoying every bit of cricket ambience. I almost forgot I was there to support a team or for that matter a state!

There were times when lineage, tradition, position, caste and color of skin made a difference to your identity and one flocked with identical birds. Santosh Desai in his book, “Mother Pious Lady” has rightly pointed out that those were the times of limited choices – limited money, limited resources, limited education. There was ‘something’ needed to create certainty and a benchmark. So, we created hierarchies basis castes, origin and education. It was important then to know where you hailed from, what was your stature in society and people judged you on that. An IAS in those times would get a salute irrespective of whether he deserves it. Steven D. Levitt in his book Freakonomics has very aptly identified that it’s our lack of knowledge which makes us see people as superior to us.

Times are changing now. The boundaries of culture and heritage are subliming. We are gradually becoming more open to, as well as aware of different cultures. More so, with commercialization and exposure to the MNC culture we all are becoming more like each other. Our newest currency ‘information’ too is everywhere.

What do you think makes Shane Warne? That he is an Australian or that he is a cricketer. I guess, none of them. It’s his art of leading; of keeping his peers together; of identifying their strengths and respecting them for it. That’s what makes him. And, I emphasize here that this identity goes with him in and outside the field. It has nothing to do with his profession, his years in cricket, his race or his education.

In times to come all of us will need to delve a little deeper into our own selves as, the parameters of identity on which we have been thriving so far will become obsolete and non-relevant. With every one possessing power of information, degrees, money and resources we might land ourselves in a state of identity crises.

A future is approaching where people will have identities other than their surnames, culture, education and nationalities. And more and more of us will be asking each other this question - What makes you?

Next time you appear for an interview or as you perform in various stands of life, you might be judged on what’s your unique identity. What makes you? So, rediscover yourself before the crises hits you.

The Tree God

It was an official visit to a nearby town where I and my team halted for refreshments. It was dusk and we all were tired. Just as we were heading towards the small hangout I caught glimpse of an earthen lamp. It was at a distance and I assumed it would be a temple. As I approached it I discovered many lit earthen lamps there. The place was serene and as I looked up I realized it was a tree. It was a Kalpvruksh (the Monkey Bred Tree). They are the oldest tree species and are called living fossils. They have a characteristic trunk i.e. broad at the base and narrow at the top with no leaves. By then my colleague had joined me and I told her that a Kalpvruksha is believed to fulfill all your wishes.


There was something very unusual about the place. The long roots of tree had outgrown and encircled a box. It looked like an old trunk weathered with time and had a huge lock over it.


Just as I neared the trunk to examine it closely a voice from behind me said, “This is Gaya’s Trunk.” I was startled to see our driver there. He belonged to the village and had followed us to the tree.

What followed was a narration I would never forget. The driver told us that Gaya was a little boy and was 8 when he had come to the village. He belonged to the nearby town where his family was burnt alive in the 1992 riots. He managed to flee with severe burns and had lost his mental balance. The tree was his abode since day one.

He would eat and sleep under this tree. Villagers gave him food but he would never let any body come near him. And this trunk was something that he always kept at his side. All were curious to know what was hidden inside.

“What was there in the trunk?” I asked and the driver came out of his trance. He looked at me, gave a mocking smile and continued. Madam Ji the secret of the trunk took Gaya’s life. A bunch of hooligans one night beat him up and took away this trunk too. The next morning the whole village was under shock. Gaya was dead and the trunk was open. Inside it laid three worn out books – the Geeta, the Kuran and the Guru Granth Sahib. With these texts was a note which said, “Do not let these out. People who read and follow them kill each other.”

I was speechless as the driver continued, “The books still lie in the trunk. People in our village do not follow any religion. We do not worship any god. We worship this place, this tree where a small boy taught us the lesson of humanity - To live and let live.”

At times our visions areso overshadowed by what is written and dictated that we cannot hear the sound from within. The sound of humanity.