The airport was big and beautiful, almost resembling a palace. Magnificent work of art and creativity. I stared in awe at the huge bouldres and plaster ceilings. Compared to the airport back home (we only have one by the way), this looked like a slice of heaven.

All around me, people were moving, almost in a rush. Everyone seemed to know where they were heading. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, and gathered my belongings close. Not that I had much. I looked out of place, lost and definitely very different. Yet, no one seemed to bother.. I might as well have been invisible...Slowly my thoughts floated back to last week..

Lightning flashed and the sky looked threateningly evil. Everywhere, there were people rushing, running away from homes, gathering as much of what was left. Mama and Papa were missing. I looked around helplessly with a growing sense of defeat. Everywhere I turned, I saw the same thing - sadness, helplessness, defeat, terror and devastation.

I was becoming immune to the endless bombings that had started a few months back. At first, I was terrified. I imagined dying a gruesome death, just as those that I had witnessed. They were grotesque, painful and horrifying. How would I die? At home, or in school? In one piece, or in a scattered thousand little pieces?

Politics, and war. They just bring devastation. I couldn't understand why they would hurt us civilians at first, but then, gradually it became clear to me. They just didn't care. All that was important was power and money. It is true when they say money and power gets to your head. Politicians turn into robots, inhuman in behaviour and thoughts. It seemed ridiculous to me that they were actually fighting over what was not theirs at all. The earth belongs to God, not to them.

Mama and Papa were still missing. I feared the worst. Yet, I still kept my hopes high. There was still a small light shining inside me, and I was confident that God will not let me cry alone.

My people...live in terrible conditions. Our world has never been known to the rest of the world. Ironically, since this political affair begun, our safe haven seemed to be the target of all tabloids, newspapers, etc. People risk their lives to come all the way down here, the slum, just to harass us even more.

Isn't it enough already? Haven't we suffered enough? Why can't they just offer help instead of pretending to sympathise? We don't have enough food, water, clothes, homes...the list goes on. No one wants to help.

I sat down on what was left of my home. It was gone, just like the others. The last blast had blown it away. And Mama and Papa..still nowhere to be seen. All around me, I heard screams, cries and shouts. Guns were being fired. The earth shook slightly as grenades fell on the other side of town.

It was too much. All I wanted to do then was to leave home and never ever return. I hated it. I couldn't stand living there. I had no future here, nothing but emptiness and sorrow. I had to leave. I had to pursue my dreams, survive through this test from God and move on. I don't deserve to be here. I despised my country. And I despised everyone who brought it to its ruins..I needed to get away.

A loud snap brought me back to the present time. Outside, an airplane took off from the beautiful airport I was sitting in. How did I get here? It's still a dream to me. How I managed to get out of that mad war zone alive, and make it safely to shore is still an unsolved mystery. It was very difficult and painful. But I made it.

I vaguely remember climbing on board and sitting next to an old woman on the cold cargo floor. It was all very simple, all I had to do was to stay as quiet as a mouse till someone came to get us. The journey took eternity. There was no food, no water. I remember throwing up once or twice.

I never found Mama and Papa. I was alone and afraid. I was still thinking of home on the ship. The happier days, when we used to have family meals, walk to school with friends. Of course, we never had a chance to live like those in the industrialised countries. The lifestyle of the rich and famous, Papa used to say. We were poor. In fact, we were very poor. But..we were happy and content. It never bothered me that I could never have a huge Sony television. It didn't matter that I could never have a computer or experience the thrills of the Internet. I had Mama and Papa, and my home. Life was beautiful.

When the ship finally halted, I experiences a new kind of emotion - fear. Where was I? Why did I leave my country in the first place? And what am I to expect here, in this new land?

Three hours later, the doors of the cargo finally opened. I was greeted by a spectacular sight as I walked out. Giant skyscrapers filled the horizon, rising above sea level. They looked so tall and majestic. Rows and rows of shops filled with things beyond my imagination. My eyes nearly fell out of their sockets when I caught a glimpse of a whole row of dog food displayed on a shelf somewhere in a store. Where I come from, there isn't even enough food for us that can be filled on one shelf.

That was last week. Now, I am at the airport. The police officials came one day and took me away from the people I was with. A million questions were asked. I never answered any. Soon they got tired of asking so many questions.

They were sending me home. Back to devastation and terror. I saw my country on the huge television at the airport. It still looked the same as it did before I left. My heart felt strangely heavy and numb. I was still alone, and very afraid. There was no one to talk to. I was still lost and terribly confused. I ran away for protection, yet they are sending me right back to the gates of Hell. I couldn't understand why this was happening. And I still didn't understand why Mama and Papa were missing. I did not understand anything, even when the plane took off from that airport. I didn't want to understand.

This new country..it was breathtakingly beautiful The view from hilltops and across the sea were so picturesque, it almost looked like a postcard. The advanced technologies here were at a level that I could not comprehend. Wireless phones, computers as small as my palm..everything was alien to me. At times, I felt excited learning and experiencing new things. Then again, I would feel equally stupid.

As excited and positive as I tried to be, I never liked it. The ways of this part of earth, the people..I did not like it. It was above all what I imagined it to be, without the warmth and love I was longing to feel.

Sometimes I ask God, why was I chosen to experience this hardship? What did I do wrong? It isn't fair really. We never had the change to progress. No one gave us that chance. I could not find the love and happiness that I lost back home in this country. I longed for Mama and Papa once more. I longed to be held in their arms..forgetting the rest of the world.

Men do not know how to feel anymore. They have forgotten about life and God. They only think highly of themselves, slowly sporting the conception that they are the creators themselves. They have even begun to question to existence of God.

When the airplane landed, my whole spirit took on a new leash of life. As I walked through the doors, I could feel the familiarity of my country. I felt the daily breeze and the humidity of the air, as always. I saw the same trees, and the same faces. This was my country. I grew up here. I belong here. And I will die here. I realised then that I just couldn't uproot myself from my homeland and leave, running like a coward. Thsi is where I truly belong.

And then..I saw Mama and Papa. That was when tears streamed down my cheeks like two swelling rivers. I ran into Mama's open arms and cried my heart out. All around me, I still saw terror and devastation. Yet, amidst all the negative aura, I saw a light- happiness and love that made me whole. This is where God had placed me, and this is where I will stay and face many more obstacles to come. And no matter how bad things may seem, this is really home.. I fit in here in the unfinished puzzle of Life.

There's truly..no place like home.

Sound pretty drastic, doesn't it? The Week That Was.

I'm not sure how many of you know my sister well, but those who do should know that the brat is one sick girl (I mean that not as a figure of speech). She's been in and out of ICU and hospitals all her life, and it was with the intention of helping her stay away from polluted air and a not-so-impressive Malaysian environment, that my parents bundled her off the Perth, Australia to continue her studies.

Last week, we got a call from my cousin who lives there as well saying that the brat was once again in ICU. You can imagine the panic that put everyone in back home. I distinctly remember coming home from class to find both my parents crying, looking lost, and desperately trying to see if they could book a flight ticket to Perth ASAP.

Now, I must tell you...despite the fact that I am quite a fighter when it comes to crying, the one thing that can break me down into little pieces is seeing my parents in tears. It took a lot of strength, and a lot of determination just NOT to break down at that point on that day. After taking one deep breath, I insisted very stubbornly that they stop crying immediately.

I spent a good half an hour trying to book my mother a flight ticket, during which I actually lost my temper with my father. It was really something I should have seen coming, because my message in the morning from Swami's altar read " DON'T GET ANGRY". I didn't really see the significance of that message till that very moment when I lost my temper.

I apologised after, of course. We were all tensed, he was shouting, and so I lost it as well.. however, I finally managed to book a ticket for Amma. Thank you, deeban for helping me with the details that I nearly lost because the Internet connection was so unstable. Really, thanks for helping me stay calm.

So the mother flew off the next morning, and she's still in Perth with Ashi. My sister, thank God, is doing a lot better now. She really needs to be VERY VERY VERY careful from now on. I can see, even if my dad doesn't speak much about it, that they are both so worried about her.

Sometimes, I'm not really sure what it is that I should be doing. I've become so used to being the one in the family that stays strong in times of crisis such as this. Can you imagine what would happen if I had started to cry as well?

But that doesn't mean that I don't have to shed some tears. At times, I get scared too. However... Swami is here. I can confidently say that I have 100% confidence in Baba, and that He will look after the brat. Nothing will happen to her, I know that.

With my mother away, I have officially had to take over most of the household chores. Cooking, sweeping, mopping, tidying up, folding the clothes..bla bla bla..yes, all of it. Its a little overwhelming at times because I still have uni work and classes to attend. But hey, who else is here to do it right? So Amma don't worry the house is clean :D

I guess each incident in life teaches us how to grow stronger, and strengthens that faith we hold in God and His Will. I, for one person, personally believe that regardless of what He puts us through, He will never give us something that we cannot handle.

To my cousins, aunts, uncles and other family members..I don't think I should be saying thank you, because we are all in this together. Yes, the brat scares us all the time, but she always comes out of it, with that same annoying personality that she always has :)

To deebs, once again, you have kept me well grounded and calm through it all. No words, my dear. Just a heart full of gratitude.

And to the brat... You better take care of yourself, don't disregard anything, and always remember Swami's with you..ALWAYS. love you to bits and pieces donkey.muaxx.