Go Back To Your Own Country!


I’m a man who was born in England
And I was flabbergasted you see
When this lady jeered with her terrible sneer:
“Go back to your own country!”
I was sitting minding my own business
At the back of the number twenty-three
And this lady glared like a grizzly bear:
“Go back to your own country!”


“I can tell by your bushy joint eyebrows
And your looks foreign and swarthy
That fist-length beard isn’t welcomed here
Go back to your own country!!!”
“You swarmed into our nation
We welcomed you in generously
But you brought your whole clan from Pakistan
The ain’t a job left in our country.”
Well I’m sure that you can appreciate
I was furious as wolverine
“You cheeky sort!” Began my retort,
“I was born in this country!!!”
“I possess a British passport
I pay my taxes and VAT
What cheek you’ve got! And I’ll tell you what
I’ve had enough of this country!”
So instead of heading on to my business
To the airport I went angrily
Off to join my dad in Islamabad
Going back to my own country.
When I landed and retained my baggage
Strolled out into Rawalpindi
I became cornered by some crafty beggars
The vagabonds of my own country:
“Have mercy my dear brother,
Give us all a thousand rupees,”
“Do I look like a jerk?” I said with a smirk,
“You’re a shame on your own country!”
Then they stared at me with astonishment
saying: “listen you posh Englandee!
Don’t you lecture us with your gora accent
Go back to your own country!”
They left with some huffing and puffing
And I stood there dejectedly
Feeling quite injured by their withering words
Do I belong to any country?
Then my dad appeared at Arrivals
And we left in those dinky taxis
Said some prayers and praise at my Dada’s grave
But I slept that night with great unease.
When I woke it was like a lush garden
People smiled and greeted me
Spirits dressed in light and charming sprites
“Welcome back to your own country!”
Then I recognised my Dada Abba
With a face young and serene
“listen here my boy,” he announced with joy,
“Paradise is your true country!”
“The earth is the world of the traveller
you don’t belong there you see
So until it’s time to leave your body behind
You have to bear with adversities.”
“Your spirit will never be contented
With the earth and the seven seas
The truth is clear, you don’t belong there
Timeless is your true country.”
“So while you’re alive and kicking
Don’t stress about some mockery
To reach the bliss of a houri’s kiss
Bear with ignorance patiently.”
“In this world you’re always an outsider
You’re like a wandering refugee
Your ego and pride fight the spirit inside
They don’t live in your true country.”
“Don’t yearn for a country or nation
Live with courage and harmony
Don’t be perturbed by some ignorant words
In time you’ll reach your true country.”
With this wonderful dream in my memory
I returned to my country of residency
My old routine, the number twenty-three,
There sat the woman who had abused me.
When the bus stopped I saw her struggling
with her bags and her property.
I repressed my rage and offered her some aid
She smiled and accepted me.
“Thank you for your help,” said the woman,
“I’m very impressed you see,
But at the end of the day, I just have to say
Dada Abba: phrase for paternal grandfather in Urdu
Houri: maiden in paradise
Englandee: nickname in Pakistan for British Pakistanis

This entry was posted in comical, Poems and tagged , by Novid Shaid. Bookmark the permalink.

About Novid Shaid

I am a Muslim writer and English teacher. I have written poetry, short stories, a play, and I am currently working on a novella. My subject matter and themes are related to Islam, Sufism, politics and also my job as a secondary school teacher. My work is copyrighted and any works published here may not used or copied without my prior consent. You can contact me via the "Contact Me" page, if you wish to use any these writings. I am keen to gain the notice of publishers and if any are interested in my writings, please contact me via the "Contact Me" page. Was salaam, Peace

One thought on “Go Back To Your Own Country!

  1. I am back in my own country…then I got a text from a friend, “so much has changed here…why do you want to come back?“ I have become a first generation English immigrant…

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