The Flood of Identities: Who Am I? (Asking for a Friend)

I can tell I’m a Hindu,

But that beef biryani, oh, it's a breakthrough.

I can say I’m a citizen of this nation,

But sometimes I wonder—did I miss the registration?

I can tell I’m a specialist,

In what, you ask? Procrastination’s on my list.

You could tell me to go take a hike,

But jokes on you—I’d probably like the bike.

No god RSVP’d for my birth bash,

No nation brought a welcome-home stash.

Yet here I am, just a man:

Homeless on Mondays, king of my couch on weekends,

Jack of all trades, but master of puns.

Out of so many, so many identities,

How long will you play this guessing game with me?

Just for one outdated, overhyped title,

That’s built on gossip and some myths so spiteful.

So, here’s my stance, bold and clear,

I belong to memes, and snacks, and beer.

I’m everywhere and nowhere at the same time,

On a road to liberation—or maybe just lunchtime.