- Deeshita Bhatia

Cartography of Self

My name is Deeshita Bhatia, first year Psychology student from Mata Sundri College for Women, Delhi University, delving into the convergence of identity, culture, and personal autonomy. In their free time, they can be found traversing the crowded streets of Delhi, pondering the intricacies of selfhood.

Being a student of psychology, commuting daily from Gurugram to Delhi University, I spend almost four hours every day suspended in between places—physically, socially, and emotionally. With every train commute, I see myself changing roles: daughter to student, from who I am back home to who I am in the city. These in-between times—these inter mundos—are where my true self has begun to form.

Raised in a conservative but loving family, I was instructed that living "according to society" was not only better, it was necessary. My parents, particularly my father, feel that financial support gives them control over my life decisions. Provided that they are supporting me, they expect me to live up to certain standards- what I wear, where I go, and how I interact with the world. It's a typical case of the collectivist orientation, usually stressed in Indian families, where the family comes first over personal independence (Triandis, 1995).

This cultural script, however, doesn’t always align with my internal compass. I’ve always questioned societal norms, not to rebel for rebellion’s sake, but because I’ve felt the pull of a different value system, one that prizes freedom, self-expression, and exploration. Yet, asserting my opinions especially to elders is often seen as “talking back,” a sign of disrespect. This dissonance has shaped my identity in complex ways.

In psychology, Erik Erikson's theory of psychosocial development discusses "Identity vs. Role Confusion" as the major task of adolescence (Erikson, 1968). I experienced this stage in living vividly at sixteen, when rebellion was second nature and fights with my parents were common. But in the last couple of years, I've moved into what feels like a new stage - more reflective, more calculated. I haven’t stopped yearning for freedom, but I’ve begun to understand the costs and compromises of securing it.

My mother and I, though emotionally close, live in fundamentally different ways. Our conflicts mirror a broader generational and cultural conflict where her definition of care is protection by control, and mine is freedom with trust. These quotidian negotiations inform not just our relationship but also my developing sense of self.

Developmentally, this captures the essence of the Separation-Individuation process (Mahler, 1975), wherein the self gradually forms his or her own identity while still being emotionally attached to caregivers. My parents desire for me to be independent, financially secure, career-focused, and independent—but independently so on their terms. They tell me I may do as I please once I've made it. But I feel that this youth, this very development, is also success.

My concept of home has also evolved. I previously conceived of home as a location. Now, I consider it a feeling of emotional ease. Home ought to be where someone feels understood, accepted, and peaceful—not merely required. Nowadays, though, I frequently feel that the house I come back to isn't really home anymore. The expectations, the burden of tradition, and the unarticulated, yet powerful rules cause it to feel like a place where I'm more of a guest than one who is rooted. I want a home in which freedom isn't an even later promise, but a living fact.

My understanding of success is no longer measured in income or status today. It is measured in terms of happiness and freedom to live truly and safely in one's own truth. Maslow's hierarchy of needs ranks self-actualisation highest (Maslow, 1943) and for me, this translates into living my outer life according to my inner values.

Being "between worlds" isn't just a metaphor for my daily commute, it's the truth of my identity. I'm forever caught between the cultural expectations of home and the freedom of the city, struggling to construct a version of myself that feels whole and authentic. This cartography of self is still being written, but with each step, each conversation, each compromise, each quiet act of bravery-I'm inching closer to the life I dream of.

The journey of mapping the self is never straight. Seated between worlds, I understand that every moment of unease, every disagreement, and every small act of defiance is part of creating a home inside myself -a space in which freedom, authenticity, and peace exist.