Helping children to understand who they are brings a slew of challenges for products of a Third Culture. Growing up in Mumbai, I 'learned' Hinduism by osmosis, much like an apprentice in a woodworking shop. Years later, I find myself raising two ethnically Indian kids - one born in London and the other in San Francisco - in Hong Kong.
This city has a culture of its own. So is it any wonder that I turn to books and scholarly essays to recreate the osmotic effect of simple conversations I'd had with my grandparents or the family pundit (priest)? My kids have always taken the Hindu god Ganesha very seriously. Initially, I prided myself on the fact that this could be traced back to my geographic roots, as Ganesha is Mumbai's favourite Hindu god. Like the opportunistic residents of India's most commercial city, my children took an instant liking to Ganesha.
Not because of his chubby, cherubic nature, but because he is the 'remover of obstacles'.
The evenings before exams are always laced with prayers to Ganesha. So are requests for sleepovers, candy money and the never-ending Christmas lists destined for the North Pole
My 13-year-old daughter goes to a school that strictly abstains from celebrating religious occasions like Christmas. They mark the festive season with non-partisan celebrations such as International Day, when each student marches in a grand parade behind his or her national flag. I initially wondered whether Ilya would march behind the Union Jack, the flag representing her country of citizenship, or the Star Spangled Banner, which represents where she grew up. Proving once again that I had no understanding of her psyche, Ilya showed up behind the Tiranga Jhanda, the Indian national flag. She was smiling and waving at everyone as though she were competing for the next Miss India title.
Needless to say, I was thrilled at her choice of ethnicity over citizenship or residency. 'Ilya! You chose India?' I said, with a mixture of pride and disbelief. 'D'uh, mum! What else could I possibly be?' she responded.