The feeling of anonymity takes over me at times. I feel low. I feel like just another person in the crowd. I feel bad about not standing out of it. I feel bad about not being able to make a mark.

I, as an individual, hold an identity. Is it my name? No. I share it with hundreds of people around. Then, is it my PAN card or my passport? They are unique for me. But then, every other individual has them. They get identified by them, like I do. So what is it that makes me different? Is there something that only I possess? I haven’t found anything yet.

Why do people call me different? Is it because my behavior is different from other girls? Or because I talk, walk, eat, drink, and sleep in a different manner? Or because I think differently? Yes, I do. I think weird. I think strange. I think extra-terrestrial. I think about what doesn’t exist. But then, I know many of you do. Then WHAT? Will I remain an anonymous person? Will I die without achieving something that would make me stand out?

No. I don’t desire to become famous. I don’t desire to achieve fame by doing something different. I only desire to satisfy myself as an individual.

On second thoughts, yesterday, I was wondering if the birds get a heart-attack! They have a heart, right? I saw a couple of crows busy pecking at a piece of bread. They all looked similar. Black. Is black their identity? Do they not feel anonymous anytime? Are they happy being just one amongst the flock?

And then, there was this anonymous crow, sitting on the branch of an anonymous tree, wondering about his anonymity. Or may be, I am just too weird to involve crows in my anonymous discussion!


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