The Life and Times of a Third Culture Kid - By Suparna Ghansham

Written By: Suparna Ghansham

Category: Short Story

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Introducing Suparna Ghansham's compelling short story, "The Life and Times of a Third Culture Kid," featured in the Short Story category of the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar. This narrative provides a poignant exploration of identity, cultural norms, and personal freedom through the eyes of a third culture kid navigating the complexities of tradition and modernity. Suparna's work invites readers into a world of introspection and self-discovery, reflecting on the challenges and triumphs of living between different cultures.

About the Work

Suparna Ghansham's narrative is a rich tapestry of introspection and cultural reflection. The story, marked by its candid and emotive prose, delves into themes of identity, belonging, and the often challenging journey toward independence. Through vivid imagery and personal anecdotes, Suparna captures the essence of a life lived across diverse cultural landscapes, questioning societal expectations and ultimately embracing personal freedom and self-determination.

The Life and Times of a Third Culture Kid

Original Submission by Suparna Ghansham

The Life and Times of a Third Culture Kid

Phase 1

Oh, it’s my first day at school. I wonder if they will like me, being the introvert that I am.

I wonder if I’ll make any friends, seeing as I did not have any, being raised in an overly-protective home environment.

Will I meet Indian people? Or Indonesian people? Or Dutch?

All these questions were in my head as a kid as I was surrounded by those ethnicities.

I was born into a traditional Indian family in Jakarta, Indonesia. My parents who had been living there for a while before they had me refused to leave behind their Indian customs and traditions, and made sure they were practised in their home.

As a result of that, being female, I was not the preferred child, but my older brother was.

That was just the way it was back then.

As a young Indian female, I slowly accepted my fate, as things were not really within my control.

There had always been something in me that knew I was different though.

Anyway, at school, I was surrounded by some Indonesians, some expat kids but mostly my Indian kids. This is because my parents made sure I went to an Indian International School, to maintain my ‘Indianness’.

Remember those customs and traditions?

I navigated through most of school pretty well, was courted by a guy a couple of years older than me, for which my parents pretty much gave me what equates a figurative hiding. Physical abuse did happen, more to my brother than me.

That was just the way it was back then.

Come my 16th birthday, my parents decided I was not ‘Indian’ enough, as my friends consisted of a diverse group of ethnicities, most of whom I met at school.

“We’re sending you away to boarding school in Pune, India. It is an all-girls’ school, and it was started by an eminent guru there. You will be living on campus, eat vegetarian food, wake up at 5 am to pray every day, and only be allowed out once on weekends. You’ll be surrounded by other Indian girls, as there are no foreigners who send their kids to that school. You will learn Hindi.”

My thoughts at the time were:

“Is fear supposed to set in? I don’t feel it.”

“I don’t mind vegetarian food, so that’s okay…but my parents are not vegetarian, so this makes no sense.”

“Hindi? I know a bit of it. I’ll get by.”

“Wake up at 5 am. Okay. Maybe I should tell them I don’t want to go.”

I did.

“We have decided for you. You are going. It will be good for you.”

That was just the way it was back then.

I said to myself, “Remember those customs and traditions?”

Off I went.

On my first day there, I was asked if I wanted to study Arts, or Commerce. Those were the only two streams they had at that school. I replied saying, “Arts”, but they replied saying, “Actually, it’s been decided by your parents. You’re studying Commerce.”

My heart sank because I was and am still an avid fan of contemporary English literature. My teachers at the other school used to commend me on my writing, and I had a few tears in my eyes when I was told I couldn’t follow my passion.

It was a struggle following all the rules imposed on us, but I had resigned to the fact that I had no choice, but to follow my parents’ orders.

That was just the way it was back then.

With the non-existence of boys in our world, a lot of girls decided to sexually experiment on each other. This was everywhere in the dormitory, and walking in the corridors was like walking on eggshells, because I never knew if I’d be accidentally invading someone’s sexual territory, causing them shame or embarrassment.

Remember those customs and traditions?

Myself, I was dating a Palestinian man, who I could only covertly see once a week at some park or café, for a restricted time, because our weekend outing hours were limited. They called it a curfew. Anyone who came late would be dobbed in by security, and then in turn earn a demerit.

No one wanted a demerit, because that would mean you’d have to get up earlier and help prepare the prayer room, and I prioritised sleep over men. I could not sleep with them at the time because, yes, you guessed it.

That was just the way things were back then.

Being done with school there, I went back to Jakarta, excited at the prospect of being able to eat Indonesian food every day, which I sorely missed during my time in India.

I got home, unpacked, wound down, and settled in for a couple of days.

“You are now going to university. It is a European university here, and you will study Business Administration.”

My thoughts at the time were:

“I don’t like Business Administration.”

“I don’t like Business. I’ve already done a boring two years of Commerce.”

“I should tell them I don’t want to. I should tell them I want to go overseas to pursue my passion since I couldn’t in Jakarta.”

I did.

“Your brother is studying overseas because he is a boy. You are a girl. You will study here, after which we will find you a suitable boy to marry. He will provide for you. You need a basic education, not necessarily a good one.”

And so, it went.

I got my first job at a bank once I finished university, while my parents were busy looking for suitors for me.

They would contact other Indian families, get details about ‘single men’ they might know of, and ask for their astrological charts, to see if they would ‘match’ with me, after having consulted the astrologer.

They would then arrange these blind dates, for which sometimes I had to go overseas for. To be honest, I knew inside this wasn’t for me. I had always known. But I had to do what was expected because I did not have a choice, so I appeased myself by telling myself, “Hey. At least there’s free food and alcohol.”

That worked.

Every time I was sent on one, I just thought about the free food and alcohol, and somewhat engaged in the dull interviews. I’m pretty sure they caught on that I wasn’t into them. I mean, who wouldn’t?

Phase 2

After 5 years of working at the bank, I decided to take a sabbatical. I knew it would be frowned upon by my parents, as the years went on, the restrictions were easing bit by bit.

I had been chipping away at a wall for years, rebelling inside, silent screams on the outside. The wall was coming down, but there was still some of it up high.

I was 30, single (much to my parents’ disdain), rebellious, and keen to travel.

I went to the US. I enrolled myself in summer school at UC Berkeley, California, and signed up for 2 of my passions, which were and are Greek Mythology, and Philosophy.

The US taught me I could be the independent woman I wanted to be. I had a right to speak my mind. I had a right to not be treated inferior to males.

These are things I had known inside all along. These are things I would tell myself all the time, while cloaking them with an echo of “Things are just the way they are. You can’t change them.”

I decided I would. I decided I wouldn’t ‘remember those customs and traditions.’ I decided I wouldn’t accept my fate the way it had been designed by my folks.

I went back, and rebelled. I rebelled, and my heart and soul felt so free.

I did this by going out, and meeting new people, making new friends, switching careers, saying ‘no’ to blind dates, telling them I’d find my own man, if I wanted one, and I wouldn’t be specifically looking for an Indian man.

What customs and traditions?

A couple of years went by. My parents shook their heads most of this time, wondering what they had done in their past lives to deserve such an uncontrollable daughter.

I met an Australian man, after having dated a number of men. He told me he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, and take me to Australia. He seemed genuinely interested in me, and kept telling me I was a goddess for having been the rebel I was. He understood how hard it must have been, as he was very familiar with the Indian culture, his mum being one.

I told my parents. I told them he was half Indian.

“How old is he?”

I told them he was 10 years younger than me.

They shook their head in disapproval.

“Your husband needs to be older than you. That is the way it is in our culture.”

I did not comply. They had to give in.

What customs and traditions?

“Ok, you can live with him, but you have to get married first, because you cannot live with a man and not be married.”

Remember those customs and traditions?

And so, we did. We got married to appease my family, and lived in Jakarta for almost a year together, while preparing my documentation for my move to Australia.

Phase 3

April 2007. I was 37. I arrived in Melbourne with my ‘oh my god, he’s 10 years younger than you’ husband. We settled in, got jobs, and started our new lives.

“You are 37. You need to have kids soon. The clock is ticking.”

I tell them we were not going to give them any grandkids, because we love our lives a lot more than having to take care of someone else’s.

“You can’t do that. That is the purpose of marriage. A woman needs to have kids.”

I keep telling them we were not having any.

The wall had come down quite a lot by now, and I felt as though I was actually breathing for the first time in my life.

I was away from my parents, with a man I loved. A man who had no expectations from me apart from being myself, and doing what I loved to do. That was all he asked of me.

We lived together happily for a number of years, but amicably split up 5 years ago because we had decided that our relationship, our romance, our love, had run their course.

We are still very good friends, and he still accepts me as I am.

Now I look back on my life, thinking, “Perhaps that is why I met him. Perhaps that is why on that one fated night while I was at a bar drinking with mates, he came up to me and said, “Could I please have your number? I would so love to take you to dinner.”

Living in Australia has reiterated and reinstated everything I learnt in the US. I love this country, and the diversity of cultures.

I can relate to the diversity because I am a third culture kid.

My thoughts now are:

“I follow my own orders.”

“I am still a rebel. I always will be. It has given me strength, independence, and resilience.”

“I am free from those customs and traditions.”

“Things are the way you want them to be. Finally.”

END (1909 words)

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, hosted by Hashtag Kalakar, is a prestigious event celebrating the art of written expression. This competition provides a platform for writers worldwide to share their unique voices and perspectives. It aims to foster creativity and encourage the exploration of diverse themes and narratives in poetry and creative writing, showcasing the talents of both emerging and established writers.

We extend our heartfelt thanks to Suparna Ghansham for sharing her thought-provoking piece, "The Life and Times of a Third Culture Kid," with the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Suparna's story is a testament to the resilience and strength found in embracing one's true self amidst cultural expectations. We appreciate her contribution to the competition and look forward to seeing more of her insightful work in the future.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.