What fuchka taught me about being from two places

Random one but, on my mind anyway. Why does fuchka have three names?

Fuchka is fuchka. My family call them puchka sometimes and some people have called me out saying you know that’s also called golgappa and panipuri when I mention fuchka and I have had this ‘wait what that is not panipuri’ conversation enough times to have it ready to go. A hollow crispy ball with spiced tamarind water and a potato and chickpea filling, it should be eaten in one go to make sure it doesn’t get soggy! The water is made from scratch by my mum, and I have seen her adjust it, seemingly based on her mood, so there is no fixed recipe I could give.

The thing is, am I using this ‘bridging’ as a skill, or have I adopted the habit because it looks like a skill externally? Skills implies I can switch it off if I want to; habits just happen. Honestly, probably both, depending on what mood I’m in, I like it on some days where I get to bring the two worlds together, but on some others I resent it, that there IS even a space that I am in, where I seem to have to be doing a constant process of translation. And again, literal translation is often required, so not in fact the gap in understanding I seem to be referring to.

I’m not going to solve that confusion writing it all out, but felt like it had to get said somewhere, as it’s one of those bits that is incredibly clear to me, and almost invisible to others.