I started this journey with the vision that I would spend most of this year in India, both working and building closer relationships with my family. As you probably know, that didn’t happen. I spent five months in Myanmar and will soon be in Cambodia and Mali for my upcoming projects. Spontaneously moving to a new country definitely sparked a desire to see more of the world, but it hasn’t changed how strongly I feel about developing the Indian part of my identity. What does it mean for me to be Indian? Through spending the last month in India, staying with family, immersing myself in our culture, and exploring a greater sense of belonging, I gave this some thought.
Every year since I can remember, our trip to India has ended with a series of really hard goodbyes. It would be another year before we saw everyone again and we’d be thousands of miles away in the meanwhile. Especially as family has gotten older or less healthy, this goodbye has only gotten harder. Over the past eight months, I’ve loved being able to drop in more frequently and I’ve loved being able to say “I’ll see you soon,” when I leave. This past trip, I decided to not only spend quality time with different parts of my family but also to be more intentional about engaging with our Malayali culture. I started by spending two weeks with my Chitta-ammumma (meaning “little grandmother”) in her home in Kottayam, a small town in Kerala.
Chitta-ammumma is deeply loving and like a mother or grandmother to everyone in the family, regardless of how far removed the family connection. She’s more social than anyone I know and supremely talented in everything from cooking to needlework and gardening. My father spent many summer vacations with Chitta-ammumma throughout his childhood, so my coming and staying with her felt like a way to not only learn from her and connect with her but to share an experience that was very special to him. Kottayam is certainly slower paced than I’m used to, but I appreciated certain aspects of life that I never experienced growing up. Most people leave their front door open for family and friends to drop in, say hi, and check in on each other spontaneously. The phone rings all the time with everyone habituated to staying in touch without needing an excuse to call. When Chitta-ammumma and I cooked anything special, we always gave a portion to our neighbors, along with extra fruits and vegetables from her garden. I breathed in the fresh smells of everything from curry leaves to mangoes, and I experienced the time and care it takes to cook from first principles. When I cut my finger learning how to cut vegetables without a cutting board, Chitta-ammumma took me into the garden and grabbed a few specific leaves to crush and press over the small wound. She taught me to crochet and I practiced speaking Malayalam. Many of the days were seemingly uneventful, but even the little moments we shared in the kitchen or the stories Chitta-ammumma told as we ate together felt like special moments I’ll hold onto forever. One evening, Chitta-ammumma teared up talking about how lucky we are to be so close as a family, and as I hugged her, her words and emotions felt real within me, in a newly tangible way.
Following my time with Chitta-ammumma, I visited both my paternal and maternal grandparents and tried my best to listen, laugh, and bring some change to their daily lives. It’s not easy to see people you love in pain, confusion, or deterioration, but I’ve found it rewarding to feel like I can contribute to looking after them, even if only in a small way. When I sat with my grandfather and listened to his stories or tried to solve his computer problems, the way my dad does, and when I coaxed my grandmother for a walk or tried to calm her down when she got anxious, the way my mom does, I felt my role in the family take on more meaning. Even though it’s not the same as my parents being here, it made me proud to feel like I could bridge the distance. There is so much that my grandparents don’t understand about me and we have very different perspectives given how different our lives have been, but despite these gaps, knowing that my visit could make them slightly happier felt deeply gratifying.
To me, being Indian is all about family. Now that this month is over, I can confidently say that my bond with our family has grown stronger. I have spent so much time with my Aunt and her family over the past 8 months that even their very shy cat has come to accept me. I’ve become an honorary daughter or granddaughter to many, and I have built connections to my own generation within the family. And I’ve really come to appreciate that it doesn’t matter how far away on the family tree or even if we’re related at all; everyone treats each other like close family. But underneath these positive reflections, I still struggle with so many differences that forever keep us apart. I’ve always dealt with feeling not “Indian enough” and being labelled as a foreigner within the family. As I’ve had more chances to show my love and commitment to our family, I became less of an outsider in some ways. But in other ways, in ways that define me, I realized that I will always feel out of place. From gender roles to mentalities around success and happiness, I observed the ways in which my life perspectives or priorities didn’t always align with or make sense to those around me. With the life I want to live, the places I want to go, and the person I want to be, I’ll have to face not fully belonging. I won’t fit in like my cousins who grew up there and maybe some differences will be insurmountable. But as I’ve experienced, this doesn’t prevent me from having caring and loving family relationships. It’s not always easy and I’m not immune to feeling frustrated, but I think this trip helped me understand how to feel close and far from my family simultaneously. Slowly, through adjusting my vision of what it means to fit in family wise as well as exploring independently and building my own personal and professional networks in India, I have created my own ties to this country, ties that made it hard to say goodbye. I’m eager to launch into my next adventure, but for the first time in a long time, I don’t know when I’ll return and more so than ever before, I think I’m beginning to miss this place like home.
I didn’t do as good a job taking photos the last month, since many of my experiences were quieter moments at home. But here are a few!
The first three rows are from Kottayam. The first row are all from Vishu, the Malayali New Year and harvest festival. The last photo is with Chitta-ammumma.
The next row is of the tropical jungle and beautiful gardens that surround her house, and the cover photo is of a basket of mangoes we collected from her tree. The heat was bad, but being in Kerala for mango season was worth it.
The third row is from some of our baking and cooking together. It’s hard to learn from such a naturally gifted cook because she hardly uses recipes and has a magic touch, but hopefully I learned a few things!
The next photo is from Bangalore with my grandparents, my aunt and uncle, and my cousin and her newborn!
The last three rows are from a small trip I made to Coimbatore to visit the parents of our family friends in Seattle. We went on trip into the hills, saw tea plantations, visited a tea factory, and enjoyed the cool weather.
