Everyone sees the world through a different lens, right? They definitely do in Hollywood movies anyway - whether you’re a cheerleader, jock or dork, you have a set perspective of the world. Only, if real life was a movie, those standard lenses wouldn’t exist. It would be more of a mix and match, whether that means a smart athlete or an Asian cheerleader, I doubt anybody would have one lens. And if the last 14 years have taught me anything, it’s that I definitely have more than one. 

Let me explain. When I reluctantly wake up every morning, to the great, grey clouds of the Great British sky and the road ranging drivers (or on Mondays, to the bin truck noisily crawling down the road), I haven’t chosen a lens yet. But after 10 minutes of catching up on Fajr, brushing my teeth, doing my hair and skipping breakfast because everyone’s shouting about how I’m going to make my sister late for school, the first lens of the day begins to settle. Let’s call it the ‘School Lens’, because that’s really the only time it comes out. 

You see, at 8:25am, every teenager's daily nightmare starts for me - school. Earlier than most schools here, but the only thing worse than waking up early is the receptionist who runs late detentions everyday. And from 8:25 until about 3:30, I quietly drag myself through a day of conversations on musicians I don’t listen to, lessons I don’t care about and pointless arguments I don’t understand. That is the whole day, except for my favourite hour - lunch. We have a morning break as well, but at lunch my only friend who isn’t terrified of the Receptionist turns up, and I spend lunch with her and her desi friends. For an hour every day, my lens shifts to my ‘Desi Muslim Lens’. I’d take this lens over my ‘School lens’ any day, and although there’s certain subjects I still won’t talk about, it’s way more ‘me’ than my ‘School lens’. In the summer it means an hour of walking, talking and joking about our hilarious cousins, aunties at the mosque and Ackley Bridge. In the winter, we go to the prayer room. After what feels like hours of laughing about little things, we finally pray Dhuhr, before we get kicked out at lesson time. I’d say more, but what’s said in the prayer room, stays in the prayer room.

At 3:30pm, I pretty much skip home. Me and my older sister laugh about the day's events, how our brothers are going to finish Mama’s Keema Aloo if we don’t hurry up and everything and anything else. 

What happens next depends on the day. Most days I switch to my ‘Normal Lens’, joking with Abbah (my dad) about absolutely anything, rewatching fantasy shows with Mama and playing PlayStation games with my three siblings (whether that means car racing or 'Sackboy'). Obviously we get homework, but depending on the subject I either leave it until the last minute, or get it out of the way ASAP. On Tuesday’s, however, I have boxing. My ‘Boxing lens’ is one of a kind - I have friends and it’s not too far off my ‘Normal lens’, but if anything, it’s probably more focused than my other lenses. Unless me and my family are watching a Marvel movie - nothing deserves more focus than Iron Man. So, for just over an hour every week, or when I’m punching the bag in my room, my ‘Boxing lens’ goes on, and my focus is almost unwavering. I only just realised this, but my mind, which will happily wander off whenever, stays with me when I box. And don’t get me wrong, I still have the high grades of a stereotypical Desi student, but who says I can’t play a sport as well. 

Before bed, we almost have a family tradition of watching TV together. Right now, we need a new show to watch, so recommendations would be much appreciated, but it’s always a laugh. 

Weekends differ more than anything else. Mama usually goes to visit her mum and dad (my Nani and Nana), who live with some of my cousins, so Saturday usually involves seeing them. I think the people you’re surrounded by affect your lens more than anything else, because around them, it’s still my ‘Normal Lens’, and they might as well be my second family. 

Some weekends we visit my dad’s side as well. That involves a lot more planning, and a lot more food. My lens with them depends on who I’m talking to. One of my cousins and one of my Phupos (dad’s sisters) I talk to through my ‘Normal lens’ - again, they don’t mind the instinctive, slight sassy and potentially rude jokes I have a habit of making. If anything, they play along like my family would. 

I also love to cook and bake with my sister over the weekend. Dinner is usually some form of curry, yes, and we’re probably more curry than flesh in my house, but it doesn’t stop us trying new dishes (it also doesn't mean I wouldn’t kill for a Cheatmeals chicken burger). Whether it’s shawarma, or, more often, a dessert, it doesn’t matter if the cake comes out looking like it’s been smothered in mushy Weetabix, cooking with my sister is always a blast. And, occasionally, we make something amazing, like a birthday cake that looks shop-bought, or a brownie that could win an award. 

To wrap it up, unless you’re straight out of a Disney Channel movie, you probably have just as many, if not more lenses than me. I wear hoodies and tracksuits, but will happily pull on a kurta for a family event. I’d recognise the tune to Kal Ho Naa Ho miles away, but it’s the same for Rahmatul Lil Alameen, Rotten to the Core and Let it Go. We may not put up a tree at Christmas, but we celebrate two Eids a year, so if anything we get double the money and double the food. 

In some ways, everybody has a ‘Normal lens’, and that lens is simply a combination of all our other lenses. When we talk to certain people, we choose a certain aspect of that lens to make more dominant, whether it’s our quiet side, cultural side or even just the things we talk about. We shouldn’t have to, but we do, until we’re comfortable with someone, and they get our ‘Normal lens’ - unfiltered you, whatever that might mean. And I may not have sausages and mash for breakfast, or talk like the King, but I think Britain needs to take a step back, and accept everyone with their ‘Normal lens’. The world needs to.

Oh, and one more thing. Chicken tikka masala - British or Indian? According to Google, Chicken Tikka Masala was created by Ali Ahmed Aslam in Glasgow. However, chicken tikka is a 100% Indian dish. Mr Aslam, as the story goes, couldn’t sell his chicken tikka because the British thought it was ‘too dry’. So, he added a few extra spices and a can of tomato soup so that the British would eat it, creating chicken tikka masala. So, the dish was made by a Muslim and is originally Indian, but technically British. Kind of like me. ;)