My birthplace, India, is where the mother in flesh and bones is revered as a God, while the Motherland is hoisted on a pedestal higher than the almighty God.

I was born in a land that is diverse, colorful, and enriched with cultural ethos and values.

I spent the first half of my life in a country that teaches equality and justice for all, the practice of which may be contested by some.

I was born where nature's bounty is considered a blessing, and sharing a morsel is an essential humanitarian element.

Indeed, my birthplace deserves the title of my Motherland, as it taught me about humanity in its finest form.

A decade ago, I landed as an immigrant in a place with which nothing ever matched; At first sight, time raced past in the United States, forcing me to think whether this country ever stops and introspects it's unconventional self.

The concept of God was different; the meaning of life and culture all seemed a lopsided comparison.

This artificial abode did not carry the values my Motherland imbibed in me.

As time passed, I would remember my Motherland thinking of the joys and the frolic I enjoyed there. However, gradually I realized that this foreign land also listened to my anger and complaints and paid heed to the angst within me without asking for favors in return.

As days, months, and years passed, the remembrance of my Motherland started to flay, and the love for the promised land slowly but cautiously enveloped my mind and soul.

This land allowed me to vent and express, to challenge and experiment. Just like my “Janmabhoomi”, this “Karmabhoomi” of mine is about love and love alone. Like any other mother, she forgives, forgets, protects, and provides, sometimes unintentionally failing, yet trying at all times to love her children alike.

Therefore, I ask myself, will it be callous on my part to redefine the home where my heart resides?

Shall I worship the one who nurtured love within or the one who guided me to experience all possible emotions in an entire human life?

Will it be blasphemous if I address her as my new Motherland? Perhaps, I could have two mothers and have the best of both.

Am I the only one, or is every immigrant like me torn between the birth and the guardian Mother?