I rise out of the shadows and walk ahead, they still follow. A light shines from the rear, the shadow jumps ahead - I am bewildered and fall into a deep reverie and wonder who am I and what is this thing I call my shadow? My grandfather's voice sounds in my ears or is it my mind ? The words are incoherent with echoes from the ancient past- echoes that are strangely familiar to me and with them my very blood and bones resonate in an age old rhythm. I see myself as nothing but a projection of all the father's and mothers , their faces meld into my features, their skills, strengths and weaknesses, run through my veins, and make my mind and body. All my vanity and false sense of self evaporate in a trice as I realise the debt I owe my ancestors, I realise that I am substance less without all those who have gone before me and to whom I owe my thinking, my very being and my achievements. I have climbed the steps already fashioned out of their experience, in the absence of which there would be a complete void and no rung to the ladder of survival. My psyche is the gift of their collective subconscious, I am because they were. Who am I ? Some dismembered voice comes to me - " you are part of us and we walk with you always as your shadow , as you will walk with the future generations.