I was and am extremely restless

I wonder if my parents, having moved to the UK and started life here ( a life which, I cant complain, is comfortable and mosquito and humidity free), did the best thing for me, or my generation.

Now, I have had the privilege to a degree and an MA and lead the last 23 years in quite a cosy manner. I am now a lover of all things Japanese in the western mainstream, love skinny jeans and voluminous dresses, read books about the trials and tribulations of the yummy mummy or the afghani woman’s pain, watch US TV, moan about the British government yet love my cafe breakfasts and earl grey and have a passion for asparagus and ice-cream. This is juggled with my love of cotton sari’s in the summer, Hindi music, all that idyllic landscape that is mustered up when south Asia springs to mind, the tabla, cow skin satchels with rangoli patterns and henna and baul music and modern bangla pop….and to frame this all, my religious values which inevitably brings with it the beauty I see in Islam (I love having god in my life), the books and prayer mats, all things mosaic and arabesque, mughal paintings, minarets and the call of the adhan in the chaos of cosmopolitan life in London.

For me, these facets are my part of my day to day existence. A marriage of culture, religion, habit, location and my biological makeup which screams in delight at the sight of peep toes heels and goes weak at the knees when digesting a great khutba.

But what I do wonder sometimes is, am I sell out? Are we just lovers of so much because we are exposed but do not solely belong to any? Am I the jack of all trades in culture and lifestyle?

By bringing me here, I feel my parents may have jeopardised my ability to belong to something solely. Or maybe not. Sometimes I wake up patriotic and wishing to be in the land of monsoon rain and street food and fans and rickshaws whilst at other times, I am grateful to have London to surround me in all its cardboard city, coffee and free newspaper glory. I said to a friend this morning ‘wouldn't it be nice to wake up and be in a country where I spoke the language, wore the national/cultural dress, worked for the community and alongside the same’. But at the same time, where would the fun of diversity, the beauty of cultural richness and the excitement of difference be? I guess, my parents have been the catalyst to my state of dis-location but at the same time, despite my presence in the whirlwind of diaspora, I shouldn't complain.

Home may be, tangibly in London, but mentally, for me, it is somewhere else…not sure where, maybe a concoction of all those differences above to create a whole new difference. I guess spirituality just blurs all this even more.

Just another thought – babble, whatever.

Posted by Mushroom