in kerala, i was always hyper aware of the fact that i was perceived by those who yearned for a version of me i could never live up to. i always knew that i was being judged in a language i couldn't speak.
in brunei, i was always hyper aware of the fact that i never fully belonged. there were always competitions i couldn't attend, scholarships i wasn't eligible for. it was not my fault, neither theirs - just how the world works. i was an immigrant and that was that. the years of learning simpulan bahasa and studying for 听写 didn't change the colour of my passport.
what a silly thing to agonize over, to waste precious thought on, i still feel. why does home matter? why do i care for an environment i have outgrown? why do i want to belong, why does it matter to belong somewhere? to call a place home?
perhaps that is the gravest flaw, dismissal of your roots, of your origin, of the hands and plate that carved you into the person you are today.
my home is not simply nostalgia but instead a stark reminder of how i became who i am today. i can never go back to being a carefree child, playing pepsi cola in the church compounds. i can never go back to comfort toddler sneha when she was referred to as a keling for the first time. i can never return to the kopitiam that sold baos for 90 cents a pop. it closed down in 2024. i will never have the opportunity to reverse any decisions I made, to advise my younger self on how to embrace life and heritage whole-heartedly, with no regret.
every time I slip, every time i feel lost, I remember where i came from, my home. a place frozen in time.
the first house i ever lived in brunei. the owner had just painted the walls of the house baby blue and i thought it was tacky. i wanted it to be blood red, as gothic as possible.
the sky is tinted pink, and there's a slight breeze. my neighbours have this ridiculously annoying little girl who won't shut up about some new Chinese influencer and she's rolling around in the grass playing with my cat, Snowie.
amma made pazhampori and i made milo. i'm thinking of making indomee later, mentally noting that she's going to be mad at me if i do.
my younger brother stumbles into the house and tells me he wants to watch the good dinosaur. my little sister protests, but i say sure.
before we switch on the tv, my mind takes an unconscious picture, tattooed onto my visual cortex.
give me a second, yea. let me close my eyes real quick.
ah, there it is. home.
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