The little things, the way I'm trapped in the eyes of Bombay's real children, are what make the difference between me and an Indian from India. I wish India would take me back as her own. I could be Indian and live Indian. I would be able to bargain in the market. I wouldn't shrink as the center of strangers' attention, and people wouldn't even look twice as I walked the streets of Bombay.
Children of immigrants grapple with dual identities.
I'll tell you about the groans and resistance that always used to precede my attendance at Indian cultural events that left me feeling especially American, twice as detached from my country of ethnic origin as I normally felt. Once I asked a girl of Indian origin where in India she was from, and she shot back that her parents were from the northern part. Maybe I'm not the only one wondering where the balance is. Her response was fiery enough to make me believe that she was just as confused as I was, but looking hastily for a quick way out. I am neither here nor there, neither fully Indian nor fully American.