I have lost count of the number of times I have been asked this question. The idea behind it has always escaped me. Every time I move into a new social setting, unfailingly, someone asks it of me. I hate it, from the very core of my being. What is it supposed to determine?
I never give a straight answer. Mostly, I just ask people to guess; seeing how there are just 28 states in the country, you can only really go wrong 27 times. Unless I’m from a Union Territory, in which case, I can snag you on a technicality. Even then, that’s just 7 more.
But since it is such a popular question, here is the answer.
I come from a father who never shied away from using humour and sarcasm on his children, schooling them both for life and in intelligence. From a man who never brought his work home with him. A man who, whether he knows it or not, taught me to love grammar as I do.
I come from a mother who fiercely protected (and continues to attempt to protect) her children from every evil in the world, and succeeded for the most part of fifteen years. From a woman who poured her love for music into me for as long as I can remember.
I come from a family, from cousins who treated me as most people treat only their friends, as equals in all respects. From endless games of Boggle and Teen Patti played late into the night. From a group of like-minded, yet distinct individuals who subconsciously brought out the best in each other. I come from fifteen different music tastes melded into one.
I come from twelve years of everyday sport, of cricket, football, badminton and table tennis. I come from a childhood spent diving on grass, mud, gravel, shale and asphalt alike. I come from fifteen years spent running barefoot, over whatever the terrain may offer.
Last, and definitely nor the least, I come from surprisingly large groups of surprisingly close friends; at home, in school and through my three colleges. From theosophical discussions and professor bashing in dusty lecture halls.
That is where I come from.