We human beings are preoccupied with inventing a self for ourselves. We keep on doing so by gathering endless opinions about ourselves from the people around us—like pixels that finally add up together to give us an image.
One day, back in 1990, I lost my mother to stroke. One of my relatives had come to get me during the lunch hour at school. When I reached home, I found my mother’s lifeless body on the floor, draped in a white fabric.