With citizenship classes for new arrivals to the country and plans to teach compulsory classes on British culture and tradition in schools, the idea of cultural identity is a much-debated talking point. Here JAVED BASHIR, honorary visiting fellow at the University of Bradford and a Community Harmony award winner, talks about his dual heritage Though I was born in Pakistan, I grew up in Bradford district and lived there for more than 25 years, and I feel as if I belong to Bradford. I work here in the district and have friends here too, though not many.

Really, if you ask me where I'm from, I would say that I am from Bradford. I am proud of the fact that I am a Bradfordian.

And above all, I'm proud of the fact that I am of Pakistani origin.

The funny thing is, however, that often when I travel, whether abroad or within Britain, people like to ask me questions about my origin.

When I say that I am from Britain and Bradford, the next question most likely to pop up is: "Where are you originally from?"

Maybe I am too sensitive about such issues, but I feel that somehow, no matter how long I have been in Britain, I will still be "foreign" to some people because of the colour of my skin.

I will still not be accepted as "British" in spite of the mosaic nature of Britain. I will still be considered "Pakistani" only, though I have been educated in Britain, speak English fluently, have non-Pakistani friends and eat nonPakistani food such as fish and chips.

Another example of this "Pakistaniness" is that in all my years here, hardly anyone, my colleagues included, has asked me about my opinion of non-Pakistani restaurants.

The most familiar question is to ask me to recommend a good 'curry restaurant'. I do not resent the fact that I have the privilege to know "ethnic" restaurants such as Pakistani, but I do resent that it is often assumed that I am so "narrow-minded" that I only know curry restaurants without knowing other kinds of restaurants. Or perhaps, it is the narrow-mindedness of the people who asks such a question-that a person with "brown skin" must shop at the halal market all the time, eat curry all the time and talk Punjabi all the time.

The irony is that a person with "brown skin" may be Indian, Pakistani, Bangladeshi or Sri Lankan and may not know anything more about Indian foods or restaurants than any average British person. And of course, even the word "curry" means different things to different people- from India. For instance, curry would be different from Pakistan and Bangladesh.

Very often, when people know that I work in the education sector, they are surprised. They find it strange that a person with my background is not interested in working in a restaurant or driving a cab.

They cannot understand why I am interested in plays such as Macbeth, Hamlet, Waiting for Godot, and why I am interested in poems such as The Wasteland and Paradise Lost. In fact, many have said to me jokingly, "Why don't you drive a cab? You are Pakistani!"

They do not know, of course, that I failed my test.

Stereotyping of British people also occurs.

When my cousin came to Bradford, he was shocked when he found out that some of my friends do not have cars. I told him that Bradford had a good transit system. He still would not believe it. I can still remember his face when he said, "I thought everyone here had cars."

When I visit Pakistan, I face the same problem.

Friends and relatives in Pakistan ask me questions, such as why do I have a funny accent when I speak my own mother-tongue and use English words to describe things. Well, though my accent may not be typically Mirpuri, how do they expect me to have a pure Mirpuri accent after all these years in Bradford.

Some friends are interested in real estate in Bradford and tend to ask me questions about different "nice" areas in Bradford. When I tell them that there is a diversity of "nice" areas here, they often respond, "You mean you have lived in Bradford for such a long time and you don't know? Why?"

I feel as if I lead a sheltered life, not knowing much about my environment, although I know that the situation here is different from that in Pakistan.

This feeling of not being understood and accepted by my own kind is worse than being considered as an ethnic minority in Britain.

How can both of my worlds meet? Is it true that the East is and always will be the East and the West is and always will be the West?

Yes, it's fine to have "dual citizenship, " but this agony of not being able to belong totally to either world does bother me at times.

In short, as a British Pakistani, I find that very often I am caught in the middle of two cultures.

On the one hand, I find that in the eyes of many British, I am still Pakistani and I am still expected to know all the Pakistani traditions and customs. I am still expected to show the "Pakistani grace" in my behaviour.

I find that in the eyes of my many Pakistani friends and relatives in Pakistan I am a British person who may have forgotten about the Pakistani part of me. I am westernised and have adjusted well into British society. I am the expert in British customs and culture.

But what am I actually? British or Pakistani?

This is the dilemma of a bilingual person such as myself living in a cosmopolitan city.

My answer to this question of my identity is that no matter where I am, as long as I am sure of my roots and as long as I savour every positive experience, be it in Pakistan or Britain. I will then try to lead a life and a lifestyle to my taste, regardless of other's opinions.

Then, maybe, I will be able to achieve a balance in life, just like the Yin and the Yang in the Chinese tradition, with the best of both of my worlds.