Where am I from?

People around here are often puzzled — and sometimes unsatisfied — when I tell them that my sondha ooru (native place) is Vikramasingapuram. It’s the town where my farm is, where my family lives, and where I’ve put down roots for the past seven years. But that answer rarely feels enough for many locals.

I understand why. For most people in this region, sondha ooru is not just about where you live — it’s about ancestry, tradition, and the unchanging place of origin your family hails from. But for people like me, who have lived in multiple cities across states and cultures, the idea of a single, inherited native place feels like a mismatch with lived experience.

I spent over 15 years of my 31-year life moving through cities for education and career. There was no fixed “home” during that time — only hostels, rented houses, and the shifting rhythms of urban life. And before that, my father, born in Kadayam (a village nearby), had already broken from tradition by moving to Mumbai in the early 1970s. He lived in Mumbai for the rest of his life. He now identifies more as a cosmopolitan Mumbaikar than a native of his birthplace.

Still, whenever I explain this — the real story of how I grew up and where I belong — it doesn’t always land well. Most people stop listening halfway and wait for me to say “Kadayam,” just to tick that mental box. And that has always felt odd to me.

We live in a time where people migrate — not just men, but women too. We move for study, for work, for love, for freedom. Yet, in a patriarchal society, identity is still expected to be traced strictly through the father’s line. This expectation persists even when it no longer reflects the reality of who we are or how we live.

That’s why I made a short video about it and posted it to my stories recently. It got a lot of responses — many curious, a few critical, and some deeply thoughtful. So I wanted to clarify that what I shared wasn’t just an opinion — it was based on lived history.

My maternal grandparents spoke the Multani dialect of Punjabi. They migrated from what is now Pakistan to Delhi and Bombay before Partition. My mother was born and raised in Mumbai. Her culture, values, personality are deeply woven into who I am. They are just as significant as my father’s Tamil heritage.

So when I say that my sondha ooru is Vikramasingapuram, I don’t say it to dodge the question. I say it because this is where I chose to belong. This is where I’ve invested my energy, dreams, sweat, and years. This land has fed me, challenged me, and given me meaning.

Maybe belonging isn’t always something you’re born into. Maybe it’s something you build.

—

Sudhakar