Big City! Small City! Identity?

The thought started troubling me when I was walking to the bus station to take a bus to office. It even surprised me that such thoughts continue to brew in my mind, considering that I have already resigned my self to routine existence and acceptance of the fact that this is life and one has to continue existing. Getting back to my thought, ‘Where do I belong?’ No, I am not venturing into the arena of unanswered secrets of life, like who am I? What is my purpose in life and what shall I be when I die? My question is a very direct one as to where exactly do I belong? In the identity crisis of the small city big city syndrome, I find that I fall on neither side of the fence and nor am I walking the thin line.
Maybe a retrospect would help. So I go back to the story of my life. I was born in a middle class, well to do family, with tradition as its foundation and education its aim. Maybe there is a conflict in the making already. On one hand our family was well to do, so that we could afford the basic necessities and comforts of life and at the same time it was tagged as ‘middle class’ because luxuries of life did not come easy. Grounded in tradition we followed all the customs and rituals of the religion and at the same time, holding education high, my parents educated me to the highest levels that I desired to learn in spite of all odds hoping to broaden my horizons. Only now the breadth seems to be a complete misfit.
Every belief I had, all my ethics and principles, all code of conduct has undergone the test of challenge and I find myself today with little that I firmly believe in or find solace in. Things like ‘this is the norm of the family’ faded soon after I left home to venture into the big world of universities and corporate business. But I have never been able to pick the ‘big city lifestyle’ and ‘corporate culture’ either. The result is I am all high and dry with nothing to call my own. Neither am I surrounded by cool guyz and gals who party every night, nor am I able to walk the streets with my head down and eyes lowered. Agreed I am probably making a black and white distinction between the small city public and the big city junta, but then, how many grey outcasts like me do we have anyway? Probably I have answered my own question, and the answer is people make an effort to fit in. Either they pack their bags and get on to the ‘settled life’ bandwagon or they transform themselves into a new being all together from accent to aura. It is the grey-ing ones that are lost into the wilderness. Is it not ironic that I want to hold my ground and not change, not fit in even though it translates into losing my identity in the wilderness?