Dancing Between Worlds

 Welcome back to Unapologetically Both

Today, we are exploring 'Dancing Between Worlds'—how the ancient rhythm of Bharatanatyam didn't just keep me connected to my Indian heritage while living in Germany, but how it ultimately kept me connected to myself.

When I first moved from India to Germany in 2001, I spent a lot of time trying to look forward. I wanted to master the language, understand the social structures, and build a career. I thought that to fit into my new German life, I had to pack my past away in a box. When your life is that fluid—when you are constantly adapting,  to the world around you—it is incredibly easy to lose your center. But for me, no matter how fast the world spins, there is one place where the noise stops completely. For me that is my dance Bharatnatyam. 

For many years, while building a life in Germany, I was also learning and practicing Bharatanatyam. And looking back now, I realize something important. I wasn't just learning a dance form. I was carrying a piece of home with me.

When people think about staying connected to their culture abroad, they often think about food, Festivals, Language, Family traditions. And yes, all of those matter. But for me, Bharatanatyam became something deeper. 

living abroad changes you. It should. That's part of the experience. You adapt. You learn new ways of thinking. You absorb different values. You become more than the person who first arrived. But sometimes, while growing into a new version of yourself, you need something that reminds you where you started. For me, that reminder was dance.

There is something incredibly grounding about that. Because Bharatanatyam is not just movement. It is storytelling. Discipline. History. Devotion. Precision.

In a world obsessed with speed and instant results, Bharatanatyam teaches patience. You cannot rush mastery. You cannot shortcut discipline. You cannot download experience. You simply return. Again and again.

The older I get, the more I realize that meaningful things are rarely built quickly. Friendships take time. Communities take time. Confidence takes time. Healing takes time. And beautiful art takes time. Bharatanatyam reminds me of that every single week.

For me, dance became a conversation with myself. One that didn't require words.

Today, when I step into class, I am still a student. Still learning. Still making mistakes. Still improving. And I love that. Because it reminds me that growth never ends.  Life is still teaching me. And I am still listening.

So if there is something in your life that connects you back to yourself... a hobby... a tradition... a creative practice... a passion... Protect it. So, I want to leave you with a challenge today: What is that one thing—that art, that melody, that movement—that makes you feel completely like yourself? Don't leave it in your past. Bring it into your present. Let it ground you.

Being Unapologetically Both means recognizing that your roots are not meant to tie you down—they are meant to keep you steady while you stretch your branches across the world. You can love the efficiency of your European life and still bow to the ancient rhythms of your ancestors. You don't have to choose.

This is Unapologetically Both. And this is where we stop choosing between who we've been and who we're becoming... and start dancing gracefully between both.

The Reverse Culture Shock

 welcome back to Unapologetically Both. 

Today, I want to talk about something that nobody warned me about. Moving to Germany 25 years ago was a culture shock. I expected that. Learning a new language. Understanding German directness. Discovering that shops close on Sundays. Trying to decode German bureaucracy. I knew those things would take time.

But what nobody prepared me for... was going back to India even for a few weeks of holiday and getting a reverse culture shock.

Because here's the strange thing. After living in Germany for 25 years, visiting India no longer feels like simply going home. Sometimes... it feels like arriving in another foreign country.

And the first time I admitted that—even to myself—I felt guilty. How could the place where I was born suddenly feel unfamiliar?"

"It's the little everyday habits that catch you off guard. Suddenly, I’m surprised when a meeting starts an hour later than planned. I automatically reach for a seatbelt in the back seat of every single car. I instinctively look for a queue instead of gently finding my way to the front of a crowd.

And when someone says, 'We'll see,' my German brain quietly asks, 'So... is that a yes or a no.

My Indian friends tease me all the time. They say, 'You've become so German!' And maybe they're right.

But then, I return to Germany. The train arrives exactly on time... well, they used to. Now the German train system has basically become a joke! But still, people lower their voices on public transport. The supermarket cashier scans my groceries with Olympic speed, always greets me, and says thank you. driving on express is fun again. Everything feels organized, and I think, 'Okay, I'm home.'

But then, the moment I'm back in Germany, I instantly start missing the incredible service industry I enjoy in India.

In India, life moves with this amazing, instant convenience. All the shops are open seven days a week, for long hours. You can order absolutely anything online and it is delivered to your doorstep instantly. If you need a doctor, you get an appointment immediately. Medical facilities are open until late at night, and you get your test results sent directly to your phone via email and WhatsApp. you can go to any lab to do your tests on your own. you do not need a note from your family doctor for that.  domestic help service is cheap and available 7 days a week. you don't need to wait months just to get a handy man to repair small things at home. 

In Germany? The service industry practically does not exist! For every single thing, you have to wait for days, weeks, sometimes months. It is incredibly frustrating. even if you get this help it is super expensive and bad quality. 

Do you see the paradox? I now have two places that feel like home. And two places where, occasionally, I feel like a visitor. Someone will wish me a pleasant evening in Heidelberg, and sometimes, when I'm in India, I deeply miss the quiet of a Sunday morning here. But I am always caught between both.

People always ask me, 'After 25 years, do you feel more Indian or more German?'

I never know how to answer that question. Germany has shaped me. India has shaped me. Neither cancelled the other out. They simply added new chapters to the same story.

When you only know one way of living, it's easy to assume it's the normal way. But when you've experienced two cultures deeply, you realize that 'normal' is often just another word for 'familiar.' One culture isn't right. The other isn't wrong. They're simply answering life's questions in completely different ways.

So if you've ever returned to a place you once called home and felt unexpectedly out of step... please don't think you've lost something. Because very few people get the privilege of loving more than one home.

This is Unapologetically Both. And this is where we stop asking whether we belong here or there... and start embracing the extraordinary life that unfolds in the space between.

Because perhaps home isn't a destination we return to. Perhaps home is simply the person we've become through every place we've loved.

Five Languages, One Brain

 welcome to Unapologetically Both.

And today, I want to invite you inside my head.

Now, if you opened up my brain on any random day, you wouldn't find a neat filing cabinet. You would find a busy international airport.

Planes arriving. Planes departing. Announcements in multiple languages.

A little bit of organized chaos.

And honestly? I wouldn't have it any other way. I speak four languages fluently.

I've used them to navigate 25 years in Germany.

To organize communities and events for thousands of expats.

To travel through 46 countries.

To build friendships across cultures. Most people would say four languages are enough.

But if you know me  little bit by now you already know that "enough" has never been one of my favorite words. while my feet are still learning the discipline and beauty of Bharatnatyam, my brain has decided it wants a new challenge.

I am currently learning my fifth language: Korean. And today, I want to talk about why.

Not just why Korean. But why continuing to learn after 40 might be one of the greatest gifts we can give to ourselves. One thing I've discovered about speaking multiple languages is that every language unlocks a different version of me.

And if you're multilingual, I suspect you know exactly what I'm talking about. When I speak Marathi or Hindi, I become more emotional. More expressive. More instinctive. There are feelings that simply arrive faster in Marathi and Hindi. 

When I switch to German, something changes. My thoughts become more structured. More direct. More efficient. There is a precision in German that I genuinely love.  

And then there is English. The language of my international life. The language of travel, Of Meetup events, Of connecting people from twenty different countries around one table in Heidelberg. 

For years I wondered: Which one is the real me? The Indian me? The German me? The international English-speaking me? But eventually I realized something.  Languages are not separate identities. They are different rooms in the same house. And every language I learn simply adds another room. 

Which brings us to Korean. People ask me all the time:

"Why Korean?" "Are you moving there?" "Is it for work?" No. Not at all. (may be secretly I want to do that 😊)

It started quite innocently.

Like many people around the world, I discovered Korean dramas.

And what began as entertainment slowly turned into fascination. The sounds, The expressions, The culture, The rhythm of the language, and before I knew it, I was sitting at my desk trying to learn Hangul; The Korean writing system. 

And here's the funny thing. I absolutely love being bad at it. 

Now that may sound strange. Because by our forties, most of us have become experts in something. We're good at our jobs. Good at our routines. Good at navigating life. We become very attached to competence. But learning a new language completely destroys that comfort. Suddenly you're making mistakes again. Forgetting words. Mispronouncing basic sentences.  And honestly I think that's healthy. Because the moment we decide we're too old to be beginners... we stop growing. 

When I sit in Korean class struggling to remember a grammar rule, nobody cares that I've lived in Germany for 25 years. Nobody cares that I've organized hundreds of events. Nobody cares how many countries I've visited. I'm simply a beginner.

And there is something incredibly humbling about that. Something refreshing. It reminds me that growth is available at every age. I think this lesson extends far beyond language. So many people quietly stop challenging themselves after 40.

Not because they can't learn. But because they're afraid of looking foolish. And that's a shame.

Because curiosity is one of the most powerful anti-aging tools we have. Curiosity keeps the brain alive. Curiosity keeps life interesting. Curiosity keeps possibility open. 

Over the last decade, I've watched thousands of people walk into my Meetup events feeling nervous. Afraid of not fitting in. Afraid of awkward conversations. Afraid of being the newcomer. 

And yet the people who thrive are always the same. The curious ones.

The ones willing to risk discomfort. The ones willing to ask questions.

The ones willing to learn.

 Language works exactly the same way. When you learn even a few words of another language, you're doing more than communicating.

You're building a bridge. You're saying: "I respect your world enough to step into it." And I think that's one of the reasons I've loved living abroad for so long.

Because every culture teaches you something. Every language teaches you something. Every conversation teaches you something. My five languages are not just communication tools. They're passports. They're bridges.

They're reminders that identity is not fixed. That my brain is still growing. My world is still expanding.

And there are still new parts of myself waiting to be discovered. So here's my challenge for you today.

What have you always wanted to learn?

A language?

An instrument?

A dance style?

A skill? And more importantly: What's stopping you? 

Because life doesn't become smaller after 40.

It only becomes smaller if we stop being curious. Learn five words.

Take one class. Start badly. Laugh at yourself. Trust me. Your future self will thank you. 

If there is one message I want to leave you with today, it's this:

You are allowed to evolve.

You are allowed to surprise yourself.

You are allowed to start new things.

You are allowed to become someone different from the person you were five years ago.

And perhaps that's what being unapologetically both really means.

Not choosing between who you were and who you're becoming.

But making space for both

This is Unapologetically Both.

And this is where we celebrate not only who we are...

but everything we're still becoming.

Borrowed Traditions

 Holi colors in the spring, Wine festivals in Summer, Oktoberfest in the fall, Diwali lights in November, and Christmas markets in December. Living between India and Germany for 25 years taught me that integration isn't about replacing your traditions—it’s about becoming a cultural collector. 

Welcome to Unapologetically Both. Today we dive into the pure joy of 'Borrowed Traditions.

When I first moved to Germany 25 years ago, I fell into the trap that many immigrants fall into. I thought I had to make a choice. I thought that to embrace my new European life, I had to let go of the festive, colorful world I left behind in India. But that's not true. Soon I realized , there is a pure  joy in collecting traditions instead of replacing them. 

Let’s look at the sheer energy of these celebrations . Think about Oktoberfest and Holi. On the surface, they couldn't look more different. One is a historic Bavarian festival in a massive beer tent; the other is an ancient spring festival born in the heart of India. But structurally? They are doing the exact same thing. They are spaces designed to break down social barriers. When you are throwing colors at a complete stranger during Holi, or standing arm-in-arm on a wooden bench singing folk songs with a local German at Oktoberfest, the usual social distance melts away. As an expat who has built a massive community here in Heidelberg, I have 'borrowed' both of these energies. They are tools that allow us to step out of our structured, professional boxes and simply laugh together.

Then comes sunny summer months and I pair that deep Indian love for vibrant, open-air community gatherings with the classic local lifestyle and enjoy wine hikes and wine festivals in my region. Wear hiking shoes, pack small backpack with water and small snacks and walk through gorgeous vineyards enjoying wines from different wine stands on the way with friends , cheer with strangers.  I get to borrow the quiet, intentional peace of the local culture, inject it with that uninhibited, chaotic Indian warmth, and create my own vibe. I don’t choose between them—I just collect them.

And then come the dark months of winter, where the magic of borrowed traditions truly shines. In late autumn, I light the diyas for Diwali, filling my home with light to celebrate this beautiful festival of lights. And just a few weeks later, the exact same windows are lit by the fairy lights of a German Christmas tree.

There is an old, rigid way of looking at integration that says you must overwrite your past to belong in your present. But true belonging is additive. When I walk through the Heidelberg Christmas markets, smelling the cinnamon and roasted almonds, drinking mulled wine, I don't feel less Indian. And when I celebrate Diwali in Germany, I don't feel like an outsider. 

By borrowing these traditions, my year has double the joy. I haven't lost my culture; I’ve expanded my horizon. 

When you are living between the cultures, you should stop asking Which tradition should I keep? And instead you start asking, "What brings joy? What creates connection? What reminds me to celebrate life.

Today, my home reflects that journey. There might be Indian spices in the kitchen. A Christmas party  in December. Music from one country. Food from another. Friends from ten different nationalities sitting around the same dinner table. Sometimes we celebrate Diwali. Sometimes Christmas. Sometimes someone's birthday. Sometimes Iranian New year, sometimes enjoy the traditional Egyptian food cooked during Ramadan.

Living between the cultures has taught me that identity doesn't have to be protected behind walls. It can be enriched through open doors. The more traditions I've embraced... the richer my own life has become. Christmas has never made me less Indian. Celebrating Diwali has never made me less at home in German.

So here is my challenge for you  Look at the cultures around you—whether you are an expat in Germany, a global traveler, or living in your hometown. Stop viewing other people's traditions as a spectator. Borrow one. Adopt a ritual that brings you joy. Learn the story behind it.

Life is far too short, and the world is far too complicated, to only celebrate the days you were assigned at birth. Collect the joy.

This is Unapologetically Both.

And this is where we stop choosing between traditions...

and start collecting the ones that make our lives richer.