In the dim glow of introspection, I find myself quietly asking: “Who made who?” This question echoes through the inward corridors of my mind, reverberating against each breath that I hear. WHO MADE WHO is a project born of that very question, a search—an exploration of the inner conflict and harmony, the struggle and peace, the layers of psychic spaces, identity, and the concealed dialogues we carry within ourselves. The shape of our lives—how we sketch our days, design our being, carve choices from chaos, imagine outcomes into existence. The dreams we hold of peace, the visions of solace, the fragile translations of what we believe might become satisfaction. Our judgments, our misjudgements, the certainties we cling to, the chances we miss—each one a silent tremor, a storm in waiting. All of it rumbling through the mind, with a force that stirs and a silence that folds. How we coronate the self, again and again—to imagine and reimagine who we are, and how we become who we are, or something still becoming. 

At its heart is a poem I wrote, navigating these ambiguities, the waves, the paradox of our emotions and decisions, tracing how each choice echoes in the soul like a whisper and a shout all at once.

“The altercations, the fights with my conscience” form the haunting refrain of this inquiry.

This collaborative project weaves together an immersive tapestry of word, sound, and image, inviting you to step inside an unfolding conversation that is deeply personal yet achingly universal.

The Paradox Within

The musical narrative Who Made Who unfolds as an intimate drama of the self, where two voices entwine in conflict and harmony—the conscious mind and its shadow, each questioning and responding in turn. Doubt clashes with desire, courage grapples with fear, and every decision leaves a shadow decision unmade. The paradox of choice haunts me: each choice made means another left behind, and the soul wanders through those post-angst of what-ifs in midnight reveries.

“Trying to cage my rotten dreams / hustling out with spontaneity”—this is the emotional ground I stand on.

In this turmoil, a dual existence of the self serves both as a guide and a ghost—reminding, reprimanding, and refracting reality through the lens of regrets and cherishment, acceptance and denial.

Yet, it is in these very contradictions that the poem seeks its body. The internal dialogue does not resolve neatly; instead, it mirrors the truth of lived experience—that clarity and confusion often coexist. Who made me who I am? Is it my own will, the weight of existence, or forces beyond my control? These questions rise, grappling without easy answers.

“The smooth lie, the soft truth”—these are not binary, but cohabitants of the same breath.

The search for self becomes a labyrinth filled with longing passages and mirrors of identity reflecting back different faces.

The Poem / Song

Reading through the lines, the emotions prevail through the grit and grace of confronting one’s darker sides. The verses strive along to evoke a landscape of internal conflict, where each stanza acts as a battleground for self-discovery. I tend to introspect a dilemma within, our inner conflicts are as much about battling external influences as they are about recognizing the parts of ourselves, we often choose to ignore or hide.

“Do I protect myself from what I want? / The rush, the rasp, the greed…”

I tried to shape stark imagery—abrupt transitions between despair and longing—as I pushed myself deeper into cramped void, against the dark forces of our imagined truth. The journey embraced confrontation, probed into ignorance, and investigated what lay beneath articulation. It reflected on the essence of human existence—flawed yet striving for meaning beyond the chaos.

“The traffic running in the head / the agony, the angst”—these lines speak not only of my mind but of the invisible static in us all.

This inward journey of unveiling is not just about identifying or uncovering the self, but about the courage to face—and accept—the multifaceted nature and politics of our existence.

The Collaborative Voices

This project is a convergence of my reflections and those of my collaborators—Aditi Das, Trinath Majumder, and Abhishek Dasgupta. Each of us poured our distinct perspectives and emotions into the narrative, engaging in an intimate, ongoing dialogue that continually shaped and expanded the landscape.

It began as a question—a tremor in the chest that refused to settle—and from that, emerged a poem, a song, an inner invocation. These were the first echoes of a psychic terrain I felt compelled to chart. From this impulse, the project grew outward.

Aditi Das and Trinath Majumder voiced through visual art, mapping their emotional terrains into form and movement—each piece translating personal and our collective psychic murmurings into a tactile form.

Collaborating with Abhishek Dasgupta brought an intense, intuitive sense of sonic texture. His soundscape and our voices—both sung and recited—became the pulse carrying the poem’s breath: from the “rush, the rasp, the greed” to the “smooth lie and soft truth,” making space for resonance and rupture alike.

Our process was marked by rigorous, often intense exchanges—where we shared philosophies, inner landscapes, vulnerabilities. These interactions were essential to shaping a cohesive body of work—something that could speak with many tongues, yet from a shared heart.

“Here I am animated, energised, healed.”

The Solitary inquiry into my own internal conflict translated into a collective voice, reverberating across the mediums we employed. This conversation among ourselves—our attempts to meet one another at the edge of vulnerability—ultimately aims to invite viewers into their own inner dialogue.

Mirror to the Self

As you enter the studio space, you’re invited into an enquiry that has been unfolding between us—and perhaps within us. The room carries a musical undercurrent; lines of poetry, the song, visual forms, and movements breathe together to create a shared atmosphere. I often find it feels like stepping into the intimacy of a mind—shaped by acceptance and denial, contest and peace.

Perhaps, as you move through the space, you may stumble upon something of your own.

“Dreams, streams across the glamorous landscape / the band of brick, dust, and desert.”

The experience longs to be immersive, to be personal. Who Made Who tries to reach out to each viewer quietly, asking not for analysis but for introspection. A lyric sung in the soundscape may suddenly echo something of your own. A painted figure’s assertion—or a moving showcase—might awaken a familiar longing.

In these moments, the boundary between art and self begins to thin. What lies beneath the showcase becomes imperative, revealing its urgency, asking not to be observed but absorbed.

Indeed, a viewer who engages and interacts becomes the final collaborator in this project. The questions may echo in your ears and find context in your life. What began as an internal monologue lives on, with hope, in the inner speech of everyone who engages with the work.

“What’s the cost of triumph? What’s the fate of fame?”
“Who cracks the path? Who hears the moan?”

What you see in it may become yours—fears you recognize, hopes you cling to, identities you question or affirm. With ripples of reflection, Who Made Who strives to offer not answers but an invitation: to listen, to feel, and to perhaps ask yourself the very question whispered at the start.

In the end, the journey lies not in resolving who made who, but in witnessing the myriad ways we continuously make and remake ourselves—within each heartbeat, each choice, and each reflection.

Ayan Mukherjee