fu·sion
/ˈfyo͞oZHən/
Noun The
process or result of joining two or more things together to form a single
entity.
In the past, I have been a person of extremes. Everything was all or nothing. I told myself that to be one thing was to
refrain from being anything else. I tied
myself to definitions that I had superfluously created.
I have noticed that since I have been in India, my
definitions have relaxed. At times I
went through miniature identity crises. Things
like “I have become boring,” “This isn’t
me,” and so on have run through my head. But, I have realized something: I can be more
than one thing at a time. I don’t have
to make myself into a certain character that I had always imagined I would be. In fact by doing so, I stunt the growth that
God can bring into my life.
I am slowly discovering the beauty of being in two
places at once.
I can act like a teenager, giggle about boys, and
jam to fun music. But I can also run a
household, lead a devotional, and travel the world by myself.
I can squeeze through alleyways between small houses
filled with sari clad women, pants-less children, and paan chewing men all
while listening to jazz or Weird Al on my i-pod.
I can order a coke and chicken sandwich at MacDonald’s
while wearing a salwaar khameez.
I can speak in Hinglish. “Aage se right.” “Che eggs please. Kitne hai?”
I can be fearless when it comes time to launch
myself into a packed local train or cross a street with seemingly unending
traffic. But, I can also be nervous to
go to the shop and ask where their mustard seeds are.
I can love India and miss home.
Fusion is right.
