As I sat there with the form in my hand I wondered if I was an NRI technically. For some reason I’d never thought of myself in those terms. And yet I asked myself if somehow over the years I had actually become an NRI (I had to think a lot also since I have this fear that if I do not write the absolutely correct answer on these silly forms the airport authorities would haunt me forever and probably dump me in some godforsaken place). When I came back to Singapore for Uni as I looked at the trees-lined roads fly by from the cab and talked to the taxi-wala I suddenly recognised that feeling of coming back.
But yet the feeling of being at home is entirely missing over there. Yes, I have a different life over there and close friends like family yet coming to India is coming to home. That endless stretch of yellow land and those unknown yet open faces that flew by my train was home. That hustle-bustle and medley of bodies was home. That familiar tongue that I couldn’t understand was homely. The taste of unhygienic and yet awesomely yummy road-wali pani puri is home. That sweltering heat which made me conscious of every passing moment was still home!!
Who will I finally identify with, in a few years? Will I always be an Indian at heart and yet a Singaporean for most of the year? Will it really matter in the end where I live coz being an Indian is at the core of my identity? Built in me for the 17 years that I lived here. Will I also grow up to have a confused identity like the millions before me who are swinging between the two nations and trying to fit in everywhere. Holding on to values and cultures that form a part of you.
Maybe in the end it doesn’t matter what I identify with. All of this adds up to me. I will always be an Indian no matter where I live and everywhere else that I go will just embed itself in my personality.
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