Spent the evening reading Faiz Ahmad Faiz and listening to Iqbal Bano singing Hum Dekhenge. Papa would have absolutely loved it. https://youtu.be/dxtgsq5oVy4

So it is here – my inqalab comes to rest. I take oath on the 21st of this month. Papa would have loved to celebrate this milestone. And I would have too, with a hope that I might have convinced them to come be a part of my life now, here. But that hope died 12 years ago.

I am not so ready to give up an identity I am so proud of. It makes me who I am. I’d not be the person I am, if I was born on another soil. I inhaled the dust of Delhi, and have been baked in the heat of northern India.

And to give up so much to adorn an identity I am not so sure about.

Everyone says, it hardly matters. But it does matter to me. I was born there. And back then I didn’t know that I will have a life across two continents. That I will be born as an Indian and I will die as an American. Did I make that choice? Do I even have a choice? Or rather, if given a choice will I choose otherwise?

Regardless, this story is 17 years in the making. But my relationship with my past is forever mine. May be it doesn’t matter. As long as US and India don’t go to war in my lifetime. 🫤 You can change my passport, but I shall always be a desi at heart ❤️