I have often pondered about the real ‘ME’, the true identity of the homosapien produced from the loins of Sebastian and Magi, my Appa and Amma. I am known around in my limited small world as Joseph Sebastian a.k.a. ‘joe’ a.k.a. ‘ousu’, discounting the similarity in nomenclature, I truly believe that the homosapien sure exist not just by these three names, but as a multitude of faces or rather masks, which no-one has christened.
If a man is defined by his thoughts or rather his thoughts are what sketches a mans true face, then from all the thoughts, which one is the real man.
Any second person in context would invariably know me by one of the three names or maybe all three, depending on the person in question and his association with me. I would be lying, if I say, I know not of the different avatars, I adorn before people. Irrespective of the name availed in addressing me, I expose the face or rather the mask, which I want the other to see and try comprehending.
I cannot lie about the dozens of masks overflowing my closet, which I wear everyday, dealing with people. I am the arrogant jerk, the loving friend, the conceited savage, the compassionate brethren, the prodigal son, the altar boy and the nymph boyfriend, in my association with people, from the dearest ones in the family to the romances I have dumped.
Every conversation I have had or every interaction, be it verbal or mere gestures, I wait patiently absorbing the speaker, shrewdly contemplating the past experiences with the person and performing an act, based on the shrewd thoughts. I act in almost all my dealings with fellow humans, an act performed on the basis of past history. The actor whom the speaker gets to know, though he fails in distinguishing the mask, gets identified as the person, ‘ME’. But truth be told, it is not the real me, but only the mask that he has mistakenly labeled as ME.
Am I then the mask? I think, I am, but sparingly, for my closet is full of masks which I keep wearing. Amidst those hundreds of faces I portray, who is the real ME? I do not know!
While speaking with my Appa, I know I hide many a shade which flashes inside me and only the face I want him to witness gets displayed. He lives happily, not knowing half the thoughts that come in my mind or maybe he too is acting, by pretending that the words that came from me are my only thoughts about the subject in conversation. The hidden thoughts are also my faces, but they never get arrayed to be put up under the spotlight before him.
The face I wear before family, before friends, before acquaintances, before adversaries, before foes are all divergent; for I realize I am putting on an act, complying with their idea about me, rather than being the true ME. Amidst the distortion of a multitude of faces, I pretend to stand tall, while deep within, I have neither a clue nor a hint, who the real ME is.
Is it the alter boy or the drunkard? Is it the chivalrous gentleman or the flamboyant womanizer? Is it the compassionate friend or the venomous adversary? I can’t identify the true nature and being of the ‘man’ behind all these faces, for a friend might find more venom in me than a foe and the foe would be kept wondering why I never spat the venom.