Who are we?

That one single question leads to hundreds more questions and inquires, leading to thousands more thoughts, but no particular answer at all.

Let's see then, I am a boy, no doubt about that. I am fourteen years of age, and the fact that is most often ignored -- I am Bengali. I am a Bengali, born in the city of Dhaka, but now living in Toronto.

I would have found no shame to admit to people that I am from Bangladesh, up until now, and the recent turn of events. In September, the beginning of the school year (and even now), people wonder about my ethnic background. When people ask me, I fail to answer truthfully about my place of origin. Much of my classmates figured I must be from Guyana, due to my dark skin, jet-black hair, and my use of enriched English, and I simply couldn't help but play along. "That's right, I'm from Guyana." I told them.

However, I did reach the point where I began to slip up and admit that I am from Bangladesh. But luckily for me, the majority of today's kids are too busy with their own personal lives to keep track of what's happening in "third-world" countries like my own.

Lately, I've found a deep disgust in telling people where I'm from. "A bomb-dropped nation" as I refer to it. What's the use of telling people that you're from a country that drops bombs on itself? Yep, we'd strike a really great image in everyone's eyes ...

I really used to be proud to be a Bengali, but how much is really left for us to be proud of? How can we stay proud when the men of our own country are dropping bombs, and sending terror into the hearts of the people of the same soil?

Not much to be proud of is there? But does that give us any right to sit at home, safe, thousands of miles away, and hear of the disasters but do nothing about it? Is that how we really are? Is that the mentality that used to make us proud to be Bengalis? Being a Bengali myself, I can tell you that we are just as selfish a group as we are generous. Confused? Ask yourself, how many times have you stepped up to help the people of your own country, other than your own friends, family and relatives?

When we give, we give a lot! That's the one thing that makes us Bengalis. We have one of the biggest hearts, one of the greatest minds, and yet we love to compete against one another. And for what? Is that helping us improve our image any better than it already is?

We love to compare and compete against one another, and we have to turn out the best. Trust me, there's a bit of it in all of us. But if we must turn out on top, why not do it as one united community, and as one whole nation?

We have come a long way from Bangladesh. We are sitting safely in our homes, when our people, our own relatives are at the risk of being blown to bits by a bomb when they walk the streets, or getting shot by an encounter or crossfire by police or even groups like Rab.

Like I said, when we give, we give a lot. We can make all the difference. Open your eyes, and look at the suffering in our country. Even before all these bombings, there has always been poverty. Look at the poor innocent children roaming the streets naked, searching for a single bite to eat. Most of the children stricken by poverty live without one or both parents. Tell me, aren't we fortunate?

We actually have clothes to cover the skin on our backs, we are able to fill our stomach with delightful dishes of food and even receive an education -- at the expense of the Canadian government.

Tell me, isn't it funny that we take all these things for granted? Isn't it funny how we never take a moment to appreciate all we have? Isn't it funny how we keep asking for more? Isn't it funny how we never seem to be grateful no matter how much we already have? Isn't it funny ... how a mere fourteen-year-old kid had to point all this out to you? Well, it's really funny if you ask me.

Even the children of today give something back to their mothers, for having given them birth and nursing them to the point at which they could stand on their own feet in life. So, being the children of our motherland, don't you think it's time to give a little something back?

Naveed Khan is fourteen years of age and writes from Toronto, Canada.