There have been many recent comments on the marginalisation of non-Malays and their status as non-bumiputeras. In 1988, seeing the trends that were already developing, I emigrated to another country. It was not an easy choice, but in the circumstances a necessary one. A few months later, I wrote these words for myself:
Putra
Why do you forsake me Mother?
I was born of your womb Drank your milk Sung your songs Cheered for you when you triumphed And consoled you when you suffered defeat Spoke your tongue And defended you against others Felt your pulse And responded to you sublimely.
Was it because
My skin colour was darker? I looked different from the others? I spoke your tongue hesitantly? And dressed differently?
That you never regarded me As your 'putra'?
Do you know Mother That you drove me into The arms of a Foster mother?
Amongst her children My skin is now darker My looks even more different My tongue even stranger And I can hardly sing her songs.
But even though not of her womb I can demand to be treated equally
And do you know Mother
That though I sometimes cannot Feel my Foster mother's pulse And respond to her sublimely.