By Krishiv Shah
American born, confused desi. I heard it from family members back in India, that I was an ABCD. I thought to myself: me, an ABCD? How? I’m not confused? Am I confused?
I was pretty confused. I loved Bollywood movies, Hindi music, South Indian food, and the aroma of going back to Bombay during winter breaks. But there was a part of me that secretly felt ashamed of it -- that all my peers obsessed over Marvel movies and I was dying to see the Bollywood blockbusters. While they belted out pop songs, I found myself humming the tunes of Kishore Kumar and Lata Mangeshkar.
This duality continued to shape my identity as I grew older. I had a love for speaking Hindi and Gujarati, yet I was not completely fluent. I remember feeling out of place during family gatherings in India because my Gujarati wasn't fluent, and yet feeling equally out of place in the States when I tried to explain cultural nuances to my American friends.
I loved Hindi music. I remember my first singing lesson in the eighth grade, when I was choosing a selection of songs to sing. They were all English songs, and I couldn’t feel a certain connection with them. Despite their popularity, they didn't resonate with me on a deeper level. I went through the motions, singing the lyrics, but something felt missing.
One day, my teacher asked if there was a song I felt passionate about. Without hesitation, I mentioned a classic Hindi song that I loved, “Channa Mereya.” My teacher, though unfamiliar with it, encouraged me to sing it. As I sang the familiar melody, I felt an immediate connection. The music flowed naturally, and for the first time, I felt truly alive while singing.
Yet it felt embarrassing and awkward to tell people that I was singing Hindi songs. I never knew why, but my love for my culture was always something that I preferred to hide. Perhaps it was the fear of being labeled as different, or maybe it was the pressure to fit into the mainstream culture around me. When asked about my music taste, I immediately turned to Drake or Travis Scott rather than Arijit Singh and Sonu Nigam. When asked about my favorite movie, I thought of Oppenheimer rather than Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani. I continuously found myself downplaying my interests and passions to avoid standing out.
I vividly remember a moment that transformed my thoughts about this. My family and I were invited to a karaoke night in my sophomore year. Even though I had been singing for almost two years up to this point, I shied away from any of the Indian songs and only sang alone with the American ones. It felt odd as an “ABCD” to be singing any Indian songs. I felt like I was supposed to feel confused, to feel out of place. Even though I was surrounded by Indian parents and kids at this event, I still felt embarrassed. I remember a family friend that I had shared my love for Bollywood songs with playing “Channa Mereya.” It felt like my song, but not at the same time. I was handed the mic and in the moment, I just started singing. Everyone in the room went silent, listening to the beginning “accha chalta hoon” all the way to the ending “o piya.” I was not surprised by their warm and positive reaction, but rather I was surprised at myself for being able to accomplish something that I had previously thought was impossible. My embarrassment had disappeared for the four minutes and fifty-one seconds of the song, and I felt like I had reclaimed the Indian part of my identity.
Participating in my town’s India Day Event, I once again felt like I was slowly gaining confidence to feel confident about my Indian identity. I sang the Indian national anthem in front of 100+ audience members, danced to the Indian Oscar-winning song Naatu Naatu, and recited various quotes in Hindi. The applause that followed was not just for my performance, but for the acceptance and celebration of my cultural heritage.
It was after all these experiences that I did not feel confused anymore. I was not an American born, confused desi. I was American born, certainly desi.
A message to my fellow “ABCDs”: Your culture is an integral part of your identity. It is easy to feel embarrassed, to feel lost, to feel like you are not truly Indian. Maybe you don’t feel Indian enough. Maybe you feel too Indian. But whatever you are, however you are, it’s you. You can’t change it, you can only embrace it. That’s what I learned, that my love for my culture was not my weakness, but rather my strength and my pride. It’s difficult to grow up Indian-American, but it's also a beautiful blend between both the cultures. And I hope you realize that it makes you who you are.
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Krishiv Shah is an Indian-American senior at Syosset High School with aspirations to pursue a degree in South Asian Studies and Business
