the complex emotions pervading my body never cease to amaze me. i’m ensconced - torn between my asian and indo-american heritages, diverged between two wonderful cultures, yet somehow unattached to either. the flowing dark hair, brooding dark eyes, and pulsating blood running through my veins declare me as hindu; my birth certificate, however, provides evidence of another dimension – i’m american. although the sacred texts mahabharata and bhagavad gita of the 5,000-year-old indian culture prove alluring, pride surges through me as i become immersed in the captivating customs of america. twenty years appears to be ample time to discover my identity, goals, strengths and passions. yet this pursuit seems never-ending. as i mature, i realize that america is a tossed salad with olives, tomatoes, pine nuts representing the variety – all immigrants wrestle with the same problems, as i have, since their migration to this country. now, i have acknowledged the diversity residing within me, and now i find this struggle working to my advantage. i take pride of the differences in my midst as i have matured and gained insight from both societies. i am special. yes, french dramatist pierre corneille’s words ring true to me, now more than ever: “when there is no peril in the fight, there is no glory in the triumph.”
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