IS HOME A FEELING?
By Archit Mahale
For the children of immigrants living in the United States or those who immigrated here while they were young, I ask you a question: What is your relationship with your home country? As Piyali Bhattacharya says in her essay “The Politics of Being Political,” which is a part of her more extensive work titled Good Girls Marry Doctors: South Asian American Daughters on Obedience and Rebellion, “I developed a real relationship to the country, not just a relationship to India forged through songs and movies.” Although Bhattacharya says this about her parents, who took her to bookstores and libraries in India to help her develop this connection, she is critical of relationships with India being “forged through songs and movies.” This begs the question, what does a good relationship with one’s home country look like? What is my relationship with India?
Being born and raised in California, my parents took my older sister and me to India every 2-3 years, although today, I haven’t been in almost eight years. Even though we had Indian food, cheesy television soap operas, and our inconsistent English-Marathi hybrid while growing up, we lacked a crucial element of our identities: India herself. When visiting, my dad would tell me stories of how he would swing on the trees with drooping branches as a kid. In the early mornings, we would sit on the slim doorsteps and enjoy the juicy pulp of mangoes in the damp summer. I remember my mom laughing at me in my mango-stained shirt while my grandpa told me his mom got mad at him for staining his shirt when he was younger. Since these short visits to my homeland were “vacations,” I sought relaxation instead of building a relationship with my grandparents, cousins, and the city my parents called home. Here in America, I’ve been unable to find the thrill I felt when playing hide-and-seek with the neighborhood kids on my grandpa’s street in Nashik. I haven’t found the bliss after eating vada pav with my mother and her parents just before it began to rain. Since I’m reminiscing, I can’t forget all the awkward interactions in India with distant relatives who saw me as a toddler and then proceeded to ask, “Do you remember me?” The more I think about these memories, the more I believe that whatever relationship I have with India or want to have are simply feelings.
