“Ok, I’m too Indian to be here”, was one of my first thoughts back in 2020 when I joined as an intern at a multicultural, diverse publishing house in Dubai, home to some of the most renowned fashion and beauty titles in the world.
No matter how many years pass, I will never forget the vivid memory of feeling small. It could’ve simply been the nervousness of finally landing my dream internship or being in a meeting room with the well-respected women I’ve always aspired to be, but there was something about being a brown-skinned Indian girl who had been raised in a culturally sheltered environment, which added to that feeling of inadequacy.
THIRD-CULTURE KID
Being of Indian descent but having lived for more than 25 years in Dubai, I am what you’d call a typical third-culture kid. If you’re unfamiliar with Indian culture, there are two archetypes to picture. The first is the stereotypical portrayal we see in every Hollywood movie. These Indians are characterised by a thick accent, and often portrayed as nerdy and mostly awkward. The second is the NRI (non-resident Indian), which includes people like myself who have grown up elsewhere and absorbed different cultures. We, too, have an Indian accent, but it’s not heavy enough to attract negative attention. We know and love our roots and culture, but don’t fixate on them. We love going back home for a change of scenery but take the first flight back to our adopted home because of the comfort it provides.
Unintentionally, for most of my life, I’ve tried to downplay aspects of my cultural identity in order to be perceived as a more modern Indian – the type who brings a blend of culture and personality but without traits strong enough to place me in the former category.
Yet, despite attempting to put myself into this box, I struggled to feel confident in cross-cultural settings. For a long time I couldn’t comprehend why I felt so insecure and unsure of myself. Why I instinctively softened my pronunciation. And, most importantly, why I was fixated on setting myself apart from the first category.
Despite this persistent feeling of inadequacy, I managed to show up consistently, converting my internship to a full-time role, and eventually earning a promotion to a senior position. The sheer hard work I put in helped me grow outside my comfort zone, which then led me to Jaipur three years later for Anita Dongre’s Rewild 2023 – a fundraiser event hosted in the magical City Palace courtyard.
A TRIP TO THE PINK CITY
Landing in Jaipur, I was joined by editors and key influencers from across the Middle East. We took two flights to reach our destination, and throughout the journey I was curious to know what the people around me, whose validation I’ve strived to achieve for as long as I can remember, felt about my home. “Nothing compares to the comfort of Dubai,” was among the comments. Dubai is my home too, so I agreed. Of course, nothing compares to Dubai.
After a day of traveling, we finally reached Leela Palace Jaipur, the luxury hotel accommodating all the guests for the show. Upon arrival, the hotel lobby was filled with Indian socialites and influencers whose lives I’ve consumed through my phone screen for years, and within a minute of checking in, I got a glimpse of the magnitude of the upcoming event. Organised by the Anita Dongre Foundation in collaboration with the Princess Diya Kumari Foundation, the couture show was a fundraiser aimed for elephant conservation. With all proceeds from the fashion show going towards the Nature Conservation Foundation, I was well prepared to experience and indulge in Indian fashion like never before.
The 45-minute journey from the hotel to City Palace turned into a mini sightseeing tour. When you’re in Jaipur, one of the distinctive visual experiences you can expect is the striking symmetry of the city, the royal architecture inspired by the Mughal rule, and the plethora of vibrant colours splattered across the fashion, the jewellery and the forts. Although this was my first visit to the Pink City, certain aspects of Indian culture and characteristics remain constant – the streets, the vendors, and the atmosphere. “India is so loud,” I noticed. Loud, unapologetic, typical.
We were welcomed at City Palace with local folk music and Indigenous art – music I did not know, and art I did not recognise. I was a stranger in my own home, but having taken a solo tour to City Palace just the day before, I was at least familiar with the architectural marvel. After exploring a few attractions on my own, however, the one thing that stuck with me was the story behind the ‘Pink City’ and how in 1876, most of the buildings were painted pink in preparation for the Prince of Wales’ arrival. Although considered a sign of hospitality, the act of transforming a part of your home and your identity for the benefit of another person struck a chord with me.
Right before the show started, we were seated around the Diwan-i-Khas courtyard, and I instantly felt a surge of pride. It wasn’t just something I felt from within, but it was also in the nods of approval and the fascination on the faces of those around me. Looking back, it’s still a bit of a mystery why that external validation mattered. I was there, taking in the grandeur of the show, but a part of me was still hoping someone else would be as mesmerised as I was.
A STRANGER TO MY OWN CULTURE
It could be the years of priming and downplaying of Indians on Western media, or the feeling of inferiority my parents unknowingly instilled in me when they taught my sisters and I to only speak English and not Malayalam (my mother tongue) at home, but for a lot of Indians who grew up outside of the country, we were told to adapt, blend in, and if we can, be invisible. After years of blending in, that became my identity, but the India that I was experiencing through Anita Dongre’s show was so different to who I was portraying to the outside world. Dongre’s couture collection featured global contemporary silhouettes, each outfit designed for women who want to wear crafts beyond traditional settings, bringing the old into the new, the typical Indian, to the cool Indian.
The 30-minute show saw more than 80 designs, with every single piece an epitome of Indian fashion in its full glory: intricate embroidery and exquisite embellishments; bold, but refined. A particular design caught my eye, and when I looked around, I noticed everyone else taking a note of it too. Experiencing that shared sense of admiration was unique to me, because I love India, I love the fashion, I love the culture, and I want everyone else to love it too.
Once the show came to an end, we all gave Dongre a much-deserved standing ovation. It had been more than just a fashion show; it was a marriage of culture, fashion, Jaipur, and a celebration of creativity and artistic expression. At that moment, there was an instantaneous shift within me to own my identity, in whatever way I can. That internal shift wasn’t just about my personal experience of being in Jaipur and witnessing the magic of the show, it was equally influenced by the affirmation I received from those around me. That they loved it made me love it tenfold.
But as much as I want to shout about my culture and who I am, it’s not easy to fully embrace your identity when there’s a disproportionate and unfair portrayal of your people that has taken over the entertainment industry. The scariest thing I’ve had to admit to myself is that I’ve fallen for that stereotype too.
And while I’m here trying to find the punchline of this photo essay and conclude it on a note that is both honest and inspiring, like Dongre, millions of Indians around the globe have embraced and proudly showcased our culture on global platforms without ever compromising on their authenticity, whether in the art they create, the way they pronounce their words, or as simply as the way they eat their food. And although I don’t have the courage to do that just yet, I can only imagine the person I might have become if I’d allowed my Indian heritage to shine. I would’ve been louder, unapologetic, typical. And above all, I would’ve loved my home, even without the approval of others.
