Which do you think is better, America or India?

This particular question has always rung unpleasantly in my head whenever I stop to think about my immigration story. All my relatives, including my parents, have asked me that very question, and I found it disconcerting how everyone seemed to expect one answer or another. I despise this question because it regards “America” and “India” as mutually exclusive elements with no common ground. Do I have to choose one over the other to define my identity?

Which is better?

I was born in Mumbai, India in 1995 although both my mother and father are from South India. Merely four years into my life, I was brought thousands of miles away to Flushing, NY where I would spend the next fourteen years of my existence. The reasons for moving were typical of immigrants: Economic opportunity for my father following the booming American economy of the 90s, and an American education for me.  Life in America was highly regarded.

My earliest memory was that of an experience which occurred after I moved, and it captured the emotional reaction my parents and I had due to immigration. I was sitting in a taxi, and was staring out of the window with childish intensity when I saw my first skyscraper.  Overwhelmed by its magnitude, I gaped at the building with silent awe. I craned my neck, trying to see how far I could see up, whether I could see up to the top. My four- year old brain could not understand the implications of spending life in a new land, but it could understand that skyscraper, its terrifying but awesome form, and it was that skyscraper which made me understand, just a little, how my parents felt that night.

Is it America?

Immigrating to America so young was advantageous for me, as it was easier to assimilate American customs, most notably the language English. I had my entire schooling in New York City, and although I first struggled with the English language, it soon became so natural that it replaced my mother tongue Tamil. There were many small American customs my father and I tried to copy, such as following football, speaking American slang, eating with utensils instead of fingers, etc.

Or is it India?

Yet, despite my relatively seamless integration to American life, I retained a strong hold on my Indian heritage.  Flushing had an extensive Indian community centered around the Hindu Temple located on Bowne St. and Holly Ave. The temple was one of the first institutions my parents used to connect to people of their own background and faith. It allowed me to essentially learn what being an Indian meant.

Which do you prefer?

I honestly cannot choose one over the other. My entire immigration story consists of a series of examples how the Indian and American threads interweave seamlessly to form the cloth of me. I lost my grasp of Tamil, but developed a grasp of Indian Classical Music. I am now an American citizen, but I retained my exotic fifteen letter long last name.  Am I American? Or am I Indian? I prefer not to choose.

I still don’t know.