Don't Give Me a Name Just Yet.

Now, what they did was all in reverse

They gave me a name even before I could converse

I didn’t know who I was or what should have I been called

To begin with, I was nothing, and then I was supposed to be all

And of course, I was not yet sure of my type

For I wasn’t born out of a box, never fitted in, so what was the hype

I imagine that I must have been alive and kicking and breathing

So why call me something certain even before I started teething

I am still not sure of my colour for it has multi shades

I am not sure of my tongue, if it is kind or sharp like blades

I am not sure of my skin, if it is soft and smooth enough for you

For I am in love with my unevenness, and I am okay with a scar or two

I am not sure of my hair for they are black and brown and rough and wild

They have their days just like I do, sometimes harsh and at times mild

No, I’m no surname or a class or a gender

I’m more, much more than just a countable number

I am not sure of my religion for they never introduced me to God

I just clench my eyes and teeth and fists when fear strikes me with a rod

The mind runs like the chicks in the barn until I stumble upon a – calm

The orphan in me begs until ‘a Nothingness’ brings ‘the end’ as alms

That’s how I learnt about faith, and I am glad that it has no name or brand  

And I am not sure what caste is mine for I am still foreign to my land

Or how far back in time goes my history,

For how far back does it really go is still a mystery

But my (known) history did give me some roots to follow

And trust me, it’s not just as narrow and hollow

As thinking that “I have no choice”

Because I am still trying to find my own voice

Now they tell me that I’m grown and I still insist,

No, don’t call me sweet and nice, just yet

For I might take you by surprise when I’m upset

No don’t call me fake and phoney, for all you know

I might just be there to hold you in your lowest low

Don’t call me too strong or uptight or weak

For I am my shyest when bold and loudest when all you see is someone meek

Don’t go on predicting what ‘I’ would say or do

For I am not sure if I am the ‘I’ as per the ‘You’

I still haven’t made up my mind about my name just yet

How would I turn out to be? Oh, there were so many bets!

I thought that I would tell them once I found out

And since then I’ve been wandering with countless burnouts

Sometimes, I think if I am ‘the one’ for me,

Or that who was, and is, and will be

Can you imagine what all then I’d have to survive to just be?

Perhaps a wanderer and seeker is what I am at the most

For these have all the limits, and are still life’s limitless hosts

Now, I dearly hold my choice to still remain nameless

For you might revere or chase after me for being limitless

Oh no, don’t call me a human just yet for that’s one decent thing that I am still striving to be

But I know that I am me and you are you, and hence you will still call me as you please