Unfamiliar— Poem by ashok jadhav

(A single light. The speaker looks around as if the room itself has changed.)

Everything feels unfamiliar—
the walls, the air, even my own reflection.
I look at my hands
and wonder who taught them to tremble.
This place used to know my name.
Now it echoes it back
like a question.
I walk paths I once memorized,
but they no longer recognize my feet.
Faces pass me with borrowed smiles,
and I wear one too,
hoping it fits.
What is more frightening—
a strange world,
or becoming a stranger to yourself?
I speak,
and my voice surprises me.
It carries weight I don't remember earning,
and doubt I never invited.
Unfamiliar is not loud.
It is subtle.
It hides in small pauses,
in moments when belonging hesitates.
Yet somewhere beneath this disorientation,
there is a quiet awakening.
Because the unfamiliar also means
I am changing.
And maybe—
this unease is not a warning,
but an opening.
So I stand here,
unrecognized but unbroken,
learning the shape of who I am becoming
in a world that no longer knows me.
(The light softens. Silence.)