Falling Leaves...

...Return To Their Roots

When I was in the 8th grade, I was moved by my Literature book, Chinese Cinderella, by Adeline Yen Mah. A story of downright vindictiveness suffered by a child at the hands of her family, my eyes were opened to a culture and suffering that had been non-existent to me. I knew the author had written one more book, aimed at a more mature audience, but never got down to reading it. Finally, after 6 years, I read Falling Leaves yesterday.

The book made me think of my roots, and once again reminded me of something I've been struggling with for quite some time. I don't know where I belong. While I love Melbourne, I cannot help but feel alienated.


I never felt this way in Dubai, where racism was rampant and often ill-disguised. Ironically, I hated the city and could not wait to get out of it, but I felt comfortable there, and took the feeling of belonging for granted. That being said, I doubt I will ever return there, for life here is generally much more comfortable, relaxed. What I have here, I could never even hope to have in Dubai - peace of mind.

Pakistan, then again, is something else altogether. I have barely ever been there, and if I feel 'almost alien' here, I might as well have been from a completely different galaxy, time AND dimension when in Pakistan.

I suppose I'm just at that stage in your life (and have been for some time) where your need to search for answers intensifies, answers to your reason for being, your place in the world, your spirituality... I'm on my search for identity, though I'm no closer to finding it than I was before. I guess this is something you have to get used to when you come from a minority in every sense of the word - Pakistani, Christian, gay - an almost hypothetical combination.

Falling leaves return to their roots.

But sometimes new roots have to be put down in a new place for the leaves to return to.