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Dear DNA, Who am I?

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;


WB Yeats.

I'm getting really fascinated with all this DNA stuff lately. Reason being, I've come to the conclusion that I only barely look like some members of my family. Although admittedly we are all mad, rash, hotheaded outspoken and rarely agree with one another. So will DNA unlock our secrets? I hope so.
Its like this... I'm dying to know what other ethnic groups have made up my DNA. Could I be related to Gengis Khan, Kubla Khan or even Imran Khan? Could I be a direct decendant of some Nobleman or Maharaja that has bequeathed me a fortune (which I would readily give to the poor) or am I the decendant of Savages that robbed, ravaged and ransacked their way through poverty. Questions questions (sigh)
I did a bit of research on DNA companies on the net and most charge upto 200Euro just to tell you have 2 chromosomes and are therefore normal. Hmm I'm gonna ponder this one carefully. I have to know my DNA story. I wanna unlock the truth. The scary truth. Who am I ? I need to know

July 2020

Fifteen years later the answer would be known. My ethnicity modeled estimations came through as : 38% Baloch , 30% south Asia  20% North East European  and 12% Caucasus
I have no idea who the Baloch people are. Iranian perhaps Persians, mountain people who migrated east to Northern India to mix with the Indus Valley Civilisations and perhaps  too with the second wave of immigrants; the pastoralists  from the Eurasian Steppe of central asia. A mixed mess really, or a richness of diversity, if that's what you want to hear. If your life is dedicated to virtue signalling and spouting hypocrisy.

It's weird but I don't feel anything on knowing this new knowledge. Nothing absolutely nothing. Just the constant anger and devestating emptiness i am well accustomed too.   My father too was an angry man. As a child I would wonder who or what made him so angry in life. I never did find out. I settled with the fact, my father had a right to be angry. As I do too.

 I've hardened myself to mountain rock. The past is the past I will tell myself.  Do I look to the future? No never. The future is  not somewhere I like to think about.  And the present? This is  somewhere which frightens me the most.  I need to continually get away and run away from the present.

So  I just wonder if my ancestors found inner peace or was it routed out of them too? one things for sure,  they didn't have the WWW around  to destroy their physical and digital soul even more  and send them to the dark places. Perhaps they too were haunted by images and voices. I hope they held on to their privacy of mind, their freedoms and their stillness within. All alien and lost to me.

"Speak to her, do it for me. Please!" He says again and again.

I downloaded my raw DNA excel file. On the screen I stared at the nucleotide building  block sequences  that make up my DNA  for hours and hours.. The unraveled DNA before me.  I should have been fascinated, but I wasn't. These the strands of life brought together as mere data items, boxed in  caged spreadsheet cells.  Here before me was my mirror image  staring back  at my self. and I  the  personification of an unclean, worthlessness failure staring back at  that DNA data file. This is what I have become, this is what those DNA strands now in their breathing  humanised form have evolved  and turned into. There is no beauty in life. Dejected I deleted the DNA file.

This latter part of my life plays out as the opposite of my beginning life. No hope. No Ambition. A mere passenger on the carousel of life whose Privacy died, Freedom died on the way, and must suffer consequences in brutal trauma and screaming silence. I had served my purpose. An addiction. No one would protect me or hear me.

 I feel nothing, void of emotion and feeling for anything or anyone. I have no descendants to fix a privileged life. I am  the last of the line (if there was ever one) just as well for everyone. No legacy, no oil painting to be worshipped.  So when my mutilated cadaver is returned back from Cambridge University medical school as dirt dust, perhaps this DNA dirt can return back to the arid  dry mountain valleys of the Baloch regions to be trampled on by the few.  Perhaps there I may find peace? I doubt it very much. I really doubt it.


They flee from me that sometime did me seek
With naked foot, stalking in my chamber.
I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek,
That now are wild and do not remember
That sometime they put themself in danger
To take bread at my hand; and now they range,
Busily seeking with a continual change.

Sir Thomas Wyatt

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