"I’ve never had a riveting conversation with the uncles or aunties from my community bubble, mostly because I don’t know what they’re saying half the time..."

My mum recently wrote an article for this blog, talking about her British Bengali roots and how connected she felt to them, and the struggles she had faced trying to embrace her culture. When I read what she wrote, I didn’t relate to any of it in the slightest.

lost in translation

I’m a London-born and London-raised third generation British Bengali, and it shows. It’s a source of amusement to a lot of my extended family that I barely understand a word of the Bengali language. Communication with my grandparents mostly consists of stilted English niceties before I let Maa (Bengali for mum) take over. I’ve never had a riveting conversation with the uncles or aunties from my community bubble, mostly because I don’t know what they’re saying half the time. Whenever there’s some sort of tradition going on, like what's required for bhai phota (similar to rakhi, but also very different!) where you repeatedly put tikkas (red dot, not the curry - that would be gross!) on the men in the family (something I’ve always disliked and felt uncomfortable about). There's a particular set of steps you need to follow to keep it auspicious so I always need instructions on what to do because I never remember anything that’s going on. Maa often has to remind me to kneel in front of the gods at religious events, because though I consider myself an atheist, it won’t really go down well with the community to openly show it.

out of touch

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not totally divorced from Bengali culture. I can understand a lot of the phrases Baba’s (Bengali for Dad) said since I was a child, including many accidentally slipped curse words, though my parents still refuse to tell me what some of them mean! I’ve gotten over my childhood aversion to Bengali food, and will happily eat rohu maas (or as I so eloquently called it, wet fish) and my Dad’s other dishes. I’ve seen pictures of Bangladesh, the tea gardens of Sylhet come to mind, and realise now that there’s a lot of beauty in South Asia that I used to think didn’t exist.

But I can’t deny that since I’ve gained more understanding and awareness of the world, I’ve lost touch with my culture. A lot of the time I feel like an outsider.

Out of place

Puja is one of the biggest examples of my cultural dissonance. Going there was once a time where I could play with my cousins and watch what was happening with curiosity, but the older I got, the more of a chore it became, and now I very rarely go. There are always hundreds of people I don’t connect with, performing rituals I don't believe in, as I consider myself as atheist - while I sit at the side on my phone not understanding anything that’s going on, and wanting to go home the whole time. Meanwhile the others around me are having the time of their lives, finding comfort in their faith and the fact they all share this bond. When I was younger I used to talk to the gods all the time; maybe Krishna, maybe Durga, I don’t really remember who. It was never very meaningful talk, I mostly just chattered in my head about my day, or whatever I was thinking or feeling, because my mum had always told me God would listen to whatever I told him. I never really attributed the idea of Krishna to an all-powerful God, I just thought he was a friendly figure, and found it cool that he would listen. As I grew older I started getting impatient. I felt like I was talking to nothing, and as an anxiety-ridden kid (now an anxiety-ridden teenager) I needed someone to actually be there for me. Talking in my head and hoping to find a direction - that way wasn’t cutting it anymore. I don’t think I share this with many others in my community, which renders me completely isolated in puja, where they celebrate 'their' gods. Maybe I should try engaging and putting myself out there (I’m constantly being lectured to diversify and grow my network and expand my horizon past my immediate family and open up to other kids), but I honestly find it embarrassing. Not only am I shy in general, but the community kids are constantly doted upon for so actively embracing their culture, for singing in Bengali and knowing religious stories and being able to play instruments, traits which quite frankly are the complete opposite of everything I am. It just heightens that ever-familiar feeling that I don’t belong among them.

My cousins and older brother are another example of people the community loves. My cousins are high-achieving STEM students and aspiring doctors and my brother just completed a degree in biomedical sciences, those are things that people love to praise you about. The golden standard. And then there’s me. I would rather pull my teeth out than spend a single second studying a STEM subject. I study politics, German and philosophy/ethics. I’ve wanted to be an author since I was a child and I still do, even though it appears to be a properly unstable career path that you have to be very lucky to achieve in. But there’ll be none of that ‘giving up what you want for something practical’ nonsense; that will be a last, last resort, and it’ll be a sad day if it happens. Again, I feel like my path is separate from the people in my family, and from a lot of the Bengalis I’ve heard about.

individuality

This doesn’t really bother me as much, though, as I take huge pride in my individuality. I think I have to thank my family for some of this, as they’ve let me be who I am. My mum and dad aren’t the typical strict Bengali parents that my friends have, though not for a lack of trying, they haven’t forced me into taking the secure options, and have dealt with my disobedience and stubbornness and wild obsession with creativity without trying to completely change me. Baba took an unorthodox path through life himself, travelling widely and having experiences I’m not sure I’ll have, and Maa had her ‘quiet rebellion’. And I could not have asked for a better older brother, a best friend and partner in trouble-making who helped me discover a lot of what I love today. If I’d had another set of people in my life you might have ended up reading an article by a very different Ambika.

reconnecting

Despite all this, I do hope that one day I’ll be able to form a better relationship with my culture. I’ve always been skeptical about a lot of traditions and ideals held by our people, but I also know there’s a lot of beauty that I’m yet to connect with. A sense of joy and community that I’ve not really felt. A chance to not be an outsider, but still be myself. I’m only seventeen (I can imagine the exasperation from some adults reading this, they probably expect me to be in the classic 9-5 grind within 5 years, putting on my bindi and sari), and I’ve always been told I’ll change my mind, so I’m interested to see what sort of journey I’ll take and where I’ll end up. What I do know is that I’ll fight tooth-and-nail for what I want.

This article is very honest- maybe too honest. But I feel there’s no use in hiding what you feel in a personal blog, and honestly I’d quite like for people to finally know who I am, so hello world; I'm Ambika Modak and this is just the begining...