Who Am I?

Ah, the classic question: Who am I? It’s been around for ages, whispered in the stillness of the night and pondered over cups of chai. Over the years, my answer to this question has shifted more times than a Bollywood dance sequence. Life does that to you, doesn’t it? You change, you evolve, and one day, you realize you’re not the same person who stared back at you in the mirror a decade ago.

So, who am I? Well, to understand who I am today, let me take you on a little journey to who I was. Picture a quiet, introverted boy, standing straight like a cadet on duty, always ready to follow orders… but with a rebellious streak simmering underneath. I didn’t know what I wanted, but I knew one thing: I could work hard. And by “work hard,” I mean really hard. That became my mantra at the ripe age of 13.

Being the only son with two sisters, I was naturally reserved. My teenage years were a mix of solitude and a splash of anger, but my father noticed. He saw me retreating into my shell, and in what I now consider one of his best parenting moves, he marched me to a gym. It wasn’t much—just a room with walls, machines, and not a mirror in sight (this was the early ’90s, after all). But that gym became my sanctuary.

By the time I hit 19, I was lean, strong, and lifting heavy. My diet? Pure mom-made vegetarian meals, no fancy protein powders or fad diets. My body transformed, but I still hid it under loose clothes—self-consciousness has a funny way of sticking around.

Life took a turn when we moved from Nagpur to Pune. My dad wanted to reconnect with his siblings, but we soon realized family reunions weren’t all smiles and samosas. Let’s just say jealousy can sour even the sweetest bonds. Amidst all this, I found myself at a gym called Arnold’s, where I continued my workouts and fought minor battles over Bollywood music versus my cassette tapes (Bollywood always won).

The gym wasn’t just a place for biceps and squats—it was where I learned discipline and perseverance. Despite being constantly underestimated and demeaned by those around me, I kept pushing forward. One day, someone suggested I try modeling. Apparently, I had a Milind Soman vibe (though I never quite understood the comparison). With zero confidence but a nudge from my workout routine, I took the plunge. Soon, I was doing photo shoots and walking ramps.

But the glamorous world wasn’t all glitz. Behind the scenes, it was messy, exploitative, and filled with people who valued appearances over integrity. Indecent proposals and unethical offers were common, and I quickly realized this wasn’t my path. My family wasn’t thrilled about my modeling stint either, so I shifted gears and dabbled in real estate. That was a misstep, but hey, life’s all about learning curves.

Throughout my journey, I encountered people chasing wealth, fame, and peace of mind, yet finding none of it. Some tried to drag me into their chaos, but I resisted. I was navigating my own path, trying to make sense of a world obsessed with superficiality.

Fast forward to today, at 45, I’ve been through it all—success, failure, heartbreak, resilience. I’ve lifted heavy weights, both physical and emotional, and emerged stronger. I’ve seen the best and worst of humanity and learned that life is less about what you have and more about what you make possible.

So, who am I today? I’m a work in progress. Someone who’s learning to let go of materialistic pursuits, embrace simplicity, and become… nothing. And you know what? Nothing has infinite potential.

As they say, “Shambho!” That’s the spirit of making the impossible, possible. Here’s to the journey of becoming and unbecoming.