All my life I have been an immigrant. I was born in India, grew up in Saudi Arabia, came to study in America, got married, started working and now have been living here for the last 16 years. But I often wonder……where do I belong.

How does one determine their belonging? Does it come from our ancestors, from geographic boundaries, from physical presence, from legal documentation or just from the heart….where one feels at home.

My husband and I love to travel and as we travel around the world, visit new places, and revisit places of our childhood, we realize that there is a part of us that resonates with every place we go to. It finds a commonality with the new cultures and people we encounter. It creates a momentary sense of belonging.

I remember reading somewhere that  “Maybe your country is only a place you make up in your own mind. Something you dream about and sing about. Maybe it’s not a place on the map at all, but just a story full of people you meet and places you visit, full of books and films you’ve been to. ”

From our wanderings comes an understanding that home is really not a place on the map but a place in our mind…. May be it is just a nostalgic collection of memories, smells, people, feelings, and irrespective of where we are physically home will always be within us.

“Perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition.”
― James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room