I recently watched a Ted Talk by Taiye Selasi that discussed the struggle third culture kids have when asked to answer the question “where are you from”. Instead the speaker suggests we ask the question, “where are you local”. Locality is composed of a trifactor- Restrictions, Rituals and Relationships, she said. The restrictions compose of limitations that dictate your actions, the rituals are the routine, your day is shaped by and the relationships are the bonds you have formed, that bind to you, regardless of where you are in the world. For me, while my restrictions, rituals and relationships are composed of various countries and cultures, they all have one country in common, India. I was born in India but moved abroad at the age of 6. Since then I have lived in Romania, Italy, America, China and Hong Kong. While these countries have shaped who I am, my Indian heritage looms over me the most.
Every year, my family makes two trips to my grandparent’s home in Kerala, one in the summer and one in the winter. While packing for the trip, especially in the summer, I am constantly reminded s to pack conservatively. I can expect a call from my grandmother with instructions to keep my “micro mini shorts and sleeveless shirts” at home. For the longest time, I didn’t understand why. As years passed, I began to see that the world is more complex than the safety bubble, of my grandparents home that encompassed me during my visits. The more I ventured outside, I began to understand that while there are vast movements for women empowerment in India, it is still a man’s world. I had to be careful not to draw necessary attention to myself, avoid empty alleys, but also overly crowded areas, and most importantly not make eye contact with strangers. Now of course these sound like fundamental rules of stranger danger, but in India, I found there was a higher degree of importance put to this. In the last few years, too many girls have been abused, mentally, verbally and physically for my comfort so I ended up resorting to my jeans and shirts and taking necessary precautions when I ventured outside. It is still frustrating to have to be constantly hyper aware of everything around me, especially in public places, especially in the presence of men. But I have to come to understand that a mindset that has been placed for centuries in this country cannot be changed immediately, especially in small towns like Kerala. Changes are being made as we speak, but until I can be a valuable addition to this change, I have to take necessary precautions to make sure I do not put myself in the line of danger. That being said, with the right company and attitude, this has never prevented me from having fun during my visits home.
While I have to be cautious, there are enough silver linings to make me look forward to my trip every year. My favorite thing about India is the level of familiarity everyone treats each other with. Yes, there is a degree of danger in meeting strangers, but in the right place, with the right crowd, India is the best place to be. One of my favorite qualities about Indians is the “brotherhood”mentality. Regardless of the place, while it might be the US or even China, when one Indian sees another, there is this sense of acknowledgment I have yet to see in any other culture. My family has found solace in the warmth of Indian communities over the years because who can refuse home cooked meals and the endless chatter in a familiar accent. Similarly, when I come to India, it almost seems like everyone knows each other. Given that Kerala is a small city and some how everyone is related to each while it might be through a distant cousin or your brother’s wife’s sister, we treat each other with warmth and kindness,regardless of the time spent knowing each other. I have come to love this because it makes me feel a part of a larger community, one outside my own family circle. This community grows so large that no matte where I go, I can expect a visitor from a town close by.
The Indian in me is fully fully credited to my parents’ efforts to maintain our roots. We celebrate the Hindu festivals, talk to grandparents regularly, pray in our pooka room. The only regret I have is language. Growing up in an English speaking environment, at home and school, I never learned to speak Hindi or Malayalam or any Indian dialect fluently, My sister, four years older to me, had the opportunity to pick it up while she still studied in India. Thus, the Hindi I knew came from Bollywood movies. The Malayalam, from my grandmothers. At the age of 18, I can understand both languages considerably well, but the minute I am required to speak, my mind goes blank. The “r’s” don’t fully roll, the verbs are conjugated incorrectly, leaving me a mess. While at home this doesn’t seem to be a problem, when out in the streets, I feel lost. My face looks Indian and people approach me tossing words at me, and expecting me to answer and then ultimately wonder why my eyes glaze over. I worry they think I am being uptight, but instead I am painstakingly translating each word from English to Hindi or Malayalam. Of course, English is a commonly spoken language and I don’t have to worry about being completely lost. Yet, I often feel the need to live up to my appearance of an Indian and unable to fully speak the language often frustrates me.
Asking me where I am local eases the burden of explaining my situation as a third culture kid, but I like to think I am primarily Indian. I might not fit it in all the time, and sometimes I try to avoid the Indian stereotype, but when I visit India, I am always introduced to a month of new experiences, teaching me more about my country and more importantly, about me. Being local in multiple countries allows me to mould myself to a collection of rituals, a diverse set of relationships and various limitations, and thus I like to think that coming home to India broadens the horizons of who I am.
devikanam98 