- originally written in spring 2022 -
“Indian people understand what it means to sacrifice. Americans are more-so concerned about themselves.”
- My Nanaji (grandfather)
India is the world’s second-largest English-speaking country behind the USA. Yet, from “Moktails” to “Collage” to “Tution,” menus and signs across the homeland (and in restaurants overseas) misspell them to oblivion. You know an Indian restaurant is good if “paneer” is spelled “panner.”
While outsiders may perceive this as incompetence, to me this is a reflection of our distinction from Western cultures. Though the British colonized us for over 300 years and drained the majority of our subcontinent’s wealth, South
Asians have remained a resilient group of countries, nationalities, regions and people who continue to make the best of even the most dire situations. A failing government, glass ceilings to upward mobility, and communal violence are just some of the many problems and barriers Indians face today.
Although the British occupied both India and America, the latent effects of British rule continue to manifest in very different ways. A standout example to me is that American individualism and Indian collectivism could not be more different.
Last fall, I traveled to India to see my family. Although I had been a couple times over the past few years, this trip was by far the most eye-opening. I stayed with numerous family members under one roof over several days. It was such a jarring turn from my severed lifestyle either in typical independence or being temporarily nested in my nuclear family.
It wasn’t until a few days into this adjustment that I realized how normal it was for my parents to return to this multigenerational living situation. Being raised in India and surrounded by family meant staying with cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents and more for weeks and months at a time. Ways of life weren’t disrupted by these constant switch-ups as much as they were enriched. And although I had the privilege of growing up around grandparents in America, it simply wasn’t the same as the 24-hours-a-day dynamics I observed during this trip.
And as with any way of life, there are benefits and drawbacks. The basis of the trip was emotionally tough for my family, but we banded together with our loved ones and instantly tapped into a support system that transcends any geographical boundary or time zone. Although I have barely met most of my family, the outpouring of closeness, love and care I received from so many people at once from the second I landed to the second I departed was unlike anything else I have ever experienced. The term “extended family” doesn’t exist for me, despite the distance I feel. I know I can always count on family, as I am always willing to reciprocate that dependability.
In contrast, growing up in America — including the education system, higher education, and entering the workforce — is a fairly standardized bird’s nest. Graduating high school is a rite of passage for most, and while many go off to college, others also begin their independent lives at incredibly young ages.
In many Indian families, it customarily is not expected for children to leave their parents’ home until marriage, and it certainly is not customary for people to send their parents to assisted living communities. Cohesion with one’s relatives on many levels — financial, social, political, etc. — is tantamount to the success and reputation of the family unit. One is seen more for how they fit into the family than just for who they are, and this can lead to one losing part of their own individuality in order to best fit beliefs and behaviors espoused by the group.
Independence is a strong virtue and ideal championed in America. We are told to make our “own” life, create our “own” family and chase our “own” destiny but in turn, we end up becoming far removed from those around us. The suburban ideal of owning a big, gardened house with a few similar neighbors remains pervasive here. Aspects of community seem to feel stronger on social media than they do in person. Establishing and maintaining any sort of personal connection, with family or otherwise, increasingly feels exhausting in a country and society where we are herded down the path of self-determination.
We in America mostly remain entitled to the ideal of the self rather than that of our family and community. It gives us the opportunity to flourish and build our own legacies on our own terms. One’s name does not follow them wherever it goes the same way it might in India. The reason I and so many others like myself are here is precisely this — it’s the opportunity to start anew and break ground on a new life. Despite all the problems and implications, it remains an ideal that millions of people chase every day.
Meanwhile, the enduring ideal of the Indian family bleeds into every fabric of life. Men bring women into their homes and blur the lines between romantic and family dynamics. Marriage in Indian culture is about bringing families together more-so than just the people getting married. The self is inextricably tied to the family. This requires several sacrifices of each member of the unit - to forgo and overlook tensions to unconditionally help one another in dire situations. To uphold one another despite opinions, histories and wounds.
As South Asian Americans, we carefully walk the tightrope between familial solidarity and individual destiny. We are expected and we expect ourselves to achieve in our respective pursuits with ruthless determination, yet we are expected to demonstrate a piety and faithfulness to our loved ones that can at sometimes be contradictory to the former. I don’t think either perspective is completely right — it’s somewhere in the middle, but it will remain a balancing act as long as we live.
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