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Jhumpa Lahiri's "The Third and Final Continent," is a moving tale of an Indian immigrant. This young man's ambitious character led him to travel abroad. His struggle took him to attend many great learning institutions. His journeys led him to and elderly woman that made quite an impact on him. Her presence in his life was very significant. This story took place in Boston, Massachusetts, in 1969. The city had two major universities that attracted many foreigners. Boston provided an opportunity to those looking for and education and a better way of life. Many viewed Boston as an international city. It became a home for the young man from India. The narrator tells this story in the Third person unlimited omniscient. It seems as though she is telling the story through her own personal experiences. The reader can almost feel her struggle. The young man keeping with old Indian traditions had an arranged marriage. He seemed very casual and not the least bit interested in taking a wife or the commitment that came with marriage. This is an evident man vs. man relationship. For the average Indian-American there is a personal disconnect when it comes to the idea of home. For where is home? It cannot be America, for as Indians we don't always feel accepted; there will always be something about us that makes us different, that sets us apart from the peers we grew up with. And it won't be India for as Americans we have not lived authentically Indian lives. Always juggling apple pies and samosas, we straddle and mix two different cultures, effectively diluting both of them, never having a strong presence in either. The Americans look at you differently because you have brown skin, different customs. The Indians wonder about your outward appearance, an incongruous amalgam of brown skin and an American accent. So where do we belong? Are we always doomed to live in the uncertainty of hyphenated ethnicities? Our immigrant parents hope not and strive to give us a home to call our own, two homes even, whether America or India cares to accept us or not. Yes, as they drag us through the bustling streets of Thrissur or New Delhi from one auntie's house to the next, as they point out the cows and temples along the way, carefully trying to teach us the proper way to speak in their native language, our parents are making every effort to connect us to our heir.

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