Homo faber

I met a guy once . The first day , he was hanging around while I was working, watching me intently. I watched him too .The second day we spoke a little , our names , what we did - insignificant stuff. The third day we talked a lot , about music , local gossip etc. The Fourth day we spent the evening together talking about where we came from , we talked about identity , our dreams , our hopes , our aims , our struggles and our experiences. We sat on the the pavement and had chocolate gelato . I never saw him after that.

My nonchalance at being adopted took him by surprise. He said that had he not known where he came from , his roots , his origins , it would have left him quite messed up . Because there is always a sense of something missing . I said I didn't care , I had a family that I loved and that loved me in return , I was happy and well taken care of . Its not like I didn't care about my origins , its just that since I couldn't find out where I came from , I saw no point in letting it make me miserable .

Today I was listening to Malayali rock . After a very long time I found myself missing my family. Not my mother but the concept of what could have been my family . Namely my grandparents- from Kerala , who immigrated to Canada soon after my father's death . For the first time in my life I found myself wishing I knew Malayalam . Then I thought , well if I knew my biological past then it would be ok for me to not know malayalam right ? I mean if my biological parents were punjabi then obviously I wouldn't know malayalam . Well sadly I don't know punjabi either.

I used to think it was cool , being a citizen of my country with no other guaranteed ethnicity. Its like I was given a life all my own and I could choose to make what I wanted of myself . This was my opportunity to defy all conventional stereotypes. But late at night , sometimes I really do wish I knew where I came from . Why was I created , was I creation of love , an illicit affair ???

I question my identity sometimes , sometimes I can't bring myself to care. Before I left India , my aunt gave me a lot of advice . She also gave me a name . Homo faber - she said it meant someone who shaped their own destiny . Maybe I was lucky to have no roots , it meant I could dig down and settle where I wanted. Maybe it was life's way of telling me to make my own destiny from scratch . I think I like that concept . I think it scares me a little.

When I met him , I knew I would never see him again . I never game him my number , email address or any other contact information , neither did he. He never asked . Neither did I . My sense of identity , the sense of belonging that I dont feel is alot like my encounter with him , fleeting , simple , honest and with no promises of tommorow.