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.

She accepts me

As her 'putra'

Where you would not?