By Shweta Raj Kanwar
Being a Gorkha — it is not merely about being brave, about defending my nation until my last breath, or about holding a khukuri in one hand while chanting “Bir Gorkhali!” at the top of my lungs. It is more than the battle cries and the glorified narratives of valor that the world so often reduces us to.
It is about those quiet moments of introspection, where the identity diaspora has grown with me for more than twenty-five years — an identity that I never questioned as a child but have wrestled with as an adult. It is about living in a land where I have been labeled a non-tribal resident in a tribal homeland, a place I once considered my own, only to later be made to feel like a guest overstaying their welcome.
It is about the slow, unsettling realization that home does not always embrace you back. How do you grow up in your hometown, only to feel estranged from it later? How does the very air that once carried your childhood laughter turn into a reminder of your supposed otherness?
This is not an identity crisis — I know exactly who I am and where I come from. My worth is not something I seek validation for, nor something I ever need to define for myself. Rather, this is about the stories that history often forgets — I stood at the frontlines, defending India with my life. From the Anglo-Nepalese War to the Kargil conflict, my blood has soaked the battlefields of this country. The very soil of India carries the sacrifices of my ancestors — not as mercenaries, not as guests, but as sons and daughters of this land.
I have tilled the fields, built the towns, shaped the economy, and enriched the cultural and literary landscapes of India. From the stories written in Nepali to the melodies of my music, from the scholars who have shaped thought to the artists who have painted my identity into the consciousness of this nation — I have given, I have created, and I have added to the wealth of this country in ways that cannot be ignored.
I have never simply occupied space — I have earned my place. Time and again, I have had to prove my worth, as if my presence had to come with justification, as if my addition to any community had to be measured in value before it was acknowledged as belonging. And so I have given, contributed, and built, ensuring that wherever a Gorkha stands, they stand as an asset, never a liability — a fact that can never be denied.
To those who still whisper about where I “truly” belong — listen carefully. I belong here. I always have. My roots are intertwined with the history of this land. I am not a visitor. I am not temporary. I am not an outsider waiting for validation.
I do not need to prove my worth. I have already proven it — on the battlefield, in the fields, in the streets, in the halls of governance, and in the pages of history.
I am the Indian Gorkha. And I am here to stay. I do not seek permission to belong. I do not need validation. I am as much a part of this land as the soil beneath my feet, and the sky above my head.
I belong here. I always have and will forever be!
Want to write for us? Reach out to us at indiakogorkha@gmail.com!