A phenomenon that I have been unfamiliar with until now has recently come to my attention. Having freshly graduated from high school, I have declared myself in a new environment, away from my parents and my friends who I have come to know and accept as my own. Growing up with the somewhat belittling ABCD (American Born Confused Desi) label, I know the friends – with whom I have surrounded myself for the past 17 years – have come to define certain parts of me. They have helped me overcome the ‘confused’ nature, which I believed was a part of the ‘American born’ me when it truly wasn’t. They have seen me through innumerable decisions that undoubtedly foreshadow what is to come. Surely, such traits as understanding as support what all people seek in their own confidants.

Yet, there is this tacit phenomenon that has apparently been sweeping the nation, leaving me – again, perhaps me alone – in the dust. As I prepare to enter college, I have noticed that many Indian-American students whom I have met have chosen to surround themselves with predominantly Indian American friends.

I am caught off guard by this characteristic because I attended a largely Caucasian high school and was therefore limited in my access to other Indian students. Or perhaps it is because I was always the token brown face in my classrooms, making me feel somewhat unique among the sea of pale skin. But I have found that as I broaden my horizons and meet other students from across the country, their friends seem to be more representative of this particular region of the world. Did I miss the bandwagon?

I started thinking about whether or not I would have a different bond with someone solely for the reason that our complexions matched. But then I realized that the connection would go much deeper. It may be a friend who has experienced the same trials and tribulations as I have. We would be able to laugh at the same Bollywood movies and swoon over other things uniquely Indian. She or he may be able to connect with me through our backgrounds and our disciplines. She or he may know the pressures of growing up in America as the child of first generation immigrants who only want what’s best for their children. She or he might understand the difficulty and acceptance of conflicting and coalescing values.

Then again, perhaps surrounding oneself with primarily Indian friends obscures reality. America is not India. When I enter the real world, I will not be working and interacting with solely Indian people. I will enter the melting pot which my country is proud of. I will need to accept new values and traditions that roll with the changing times.

What worries me about becoming so comfortable with what is Indian about me is that I forget mental and social change is inevitable and necessary for me to grow. I’m afraid of remaining idle in my mindset. I do not believe that such questions are in dire need of answers now. They are mere musings on what is to come. Like many things in life, balance seems to dominate the best course of action. I know I will seek friends whose values are similar in importance, and who are best able to understand and support me. And who knows, if they’re willing to enjoy a Ragulla with me occasionally, I’ll be thrilled.