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“Who am I?”

This question has haunted thinkers and philosophers from the earliest times. It is the question that drove the sixteen-year-old Venkataraman to eventually become Ramana Maharishi. It is the question that pops up every now and then, only to remain unanswered. Once it is answered, the question never recurs, for one would have transcended all questions by answering that one.

So, who are we?

Kosambi launches into a polemic against Krishna, considering him as a real person, forgetting that he himself had cast doubts on the existence of Krishna in the first place. Kosambi spews venom against the acharya of the Gita (emphasis is mine):

It is usually thought in the world of classical arts, especially in the Carnatic circles in India that a prodigy is born in a family which is rich with a music tradition, and in most cases, belonging to the lineage of one of the stalwarts. It is rather rare to find a genius being born in an unconnected atmosphere. When the eight-holed bamboo flute was still trying to figure out its place in main stream Carnatic music as a solo and an accompanying instrument and when the playing techniques developed by Mali (TR Mahalingam) were awaiting to be housed in a creative musician, Bangalore N.

Of late, echoes of a certain something called "Art Therapy" has been resonating throughout our land. More specifically, there has been an increase in the number of self-proclaimed "Art Therapists" strutting around with claims that they can cure a wide variety of diseases using music, dance, painting and poetry. They occupy the line already populated by that class of people who've anointed themselves as Sanyasis-Babas and Gurujis.