Despite being born and raised in America, I was greatly shaped by my ethnic culture that my parents brought to the United States. Everything my sisters and I knew about America was limited by what my parents were able to teach. Feeling left out, we began to immerse ourselves in “American culture” in an attempt to fit in at school. Unfortunately, this cultural diffusion led us to lose some of our own culture along the way.

Over the years I embedded myself in work and failed to find a moment to take in my surroundings; to appreciate the little things. The events of the past six months brought on by the pandemic reignited my desire to learn more about my culture. Living exclusively in my home environment, I started to notice and explore the nuances of my religion and heritage. I remembered visiting my family’s home villages in India and witnessing their desertion. The villages turning to ghost towns made me understand and acknowledge the inevitable disappearance through each generation. Although we may try to keep faith with our religion, stay true to our traditions, and continue cooking our ethnic food, we can’t ignore that our culture will evaporate without conscious intervention. The body of work represents not only my parents’ contribution, but also my own discovery and internal battle to preserve what they have taught us. It serves as a reminder to myself that I am not just Indian, but I am proudly Gujarati and Jain.