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My house lacks ornaments which reveal evidence of my own cultural roots. However, a prime example of Hong Kong culture instilled within my household is seen through the culinary utensils stored in my kitchen as my family predominantly eats Chinese food. Thus, examples of my cultural roots include chopsticks and bowls adorned with swirls and paint strokes that resemble those of ancient Chinese culture.
I grew up in Australia which has shaped my childhood. As an activity in kindergarten, we had to take pine cone in a small pot and decorate with glitter and other various tools. This activity (wild, untamed, alluding to creative thinking) is placed in stark contrast with childhood ones of Hong Kong whereby children would reconstruct jigsaw puzzles (constructed, rigid). The pine cone resembles a piece of the wild captured within the enclosures of the pot which reflects "the jungle moves within the walls" as a preliminary quote to a section of the novel.
Further, the small box belongs to my Mother who used it to keep coins. Enclosed in it, one can find pennies, revealing the past of her initial arrival to Australia when they were commonly used.

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The first 4 photos are of my apartment, which is mostly decorated by my mother. It doesn't seem obvious, but most of our furniture is coloured and centred around the light-brown wood floors. Often the apartment is bombarded with multiple different knick-knacks that my mother decides to bring home on a whim; on top of this, my mum has many buddhist teachings, books, statues and other religious symbols in our apartment. More often than not, it is convoluted with colour.

The other photo of my house on the other hand, which is predominantly decorated and furnished by my dad, is almost pristine white, swathed in light/cream colours and lacking in memorabilia. My dad is rather influenced by the older western ideals of order and cleanliness and often thinks that very decorated houses with lots of colour (which I think are homely) reflect the personality of the owners - messy (honestly idk why my dads rude like that nobody else in my family thinks this way its just him :/ ).

Through the differences in style and decoration we can see the contrast between the native (mum) and the colonised (dad, who reflects Sam Obeysekere) and thus also see how imperialism can change the identity of an individual.

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My house is petty messy so I decided to just take a picture of our bookshelf. I’ve lived in Australia for about years now, but you wouldn’t guess considering how much my parents have tried to maintain our culture and identity within our four walls. My photo is of my bookshelf and as you’ll see they are not English books. No, my house is lined with book after book in Korean. I don’t mind this at all. Rather, I like it. It’s not as if I don’t read English books but I can see how much it means to my parents and how much they want us to maintain aware of both cultures. My room however is another story. Sometimes it looks as if a small cyclone has ripped through it, sometimes, I’m proud I say, it’s spotless. But the main point is, my room is a reflection of my values and who I am. My room is actually a mix of western and Asian culture and to be able to see both of these present makes me feel as though this is how it should be. I’m proud of both parts of me and although sometimes I miss and want to go back and visit my home country, Australia is also a part of me that I won’t let go. Identity is what makes you you and you wholly. If I were to choose one half, I wouldn’t be me.

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I decided not to take any photos of my room, because it is in a big mess 95% of the time, but if I were to describe it, I would say that it does not represent traditional Indian culture, but definitely more so Western culture. My room isn’t decorated with beautiful ornaments from India, and my wardrobe isn’t filled with colourful traditional clothing. For me this is because although I was born in India, I moved to Australia at a very young age of two years old and haven’t travelled back to India since, and therefore don’t feel a strong connection with my Indian culture. However, this is not to say that like Sam in THC, I do not appreciate the rich culture and the long history in India of my family. I am still learning about my Indian roots everyday, which is something that I really love to do, as although I don’t always feel a strong connection with India, it still forms a big part of my grandparents identity, of my parents identity, of my brother’s identity, and so inherently, a part of my personal identity. Outside of my room, there are memories of India that are scattered throughout the house, side by side with the western culture my family also strongly identifies with, as seen with the Indian ornaments scattered throughout a display unit side by side with western ornaments that also hold special memories, collected throughout our years in Australia. There are paintings which hold a cultural significance, as well as paintings that express the western influences on my family, and modern decorations on the wall with cultural ornaments on the table below. Looking throughout my house, there is a very visible hybridity between two cultures, which is very closely aligned with my family’s identity here in Australia- one of two cultures that embraces our future in a western society, but also remembers the rich culture that we were born from.

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I don't know how clearly the photo shows it but there is quite a vast yet subtle difference between the top level of my home and the bottom. The room on the lower end of the photo is completely dedicated to worshipping or religion and our ancestors, so much that it covers an entire wall. The chairs are a rich red which contrast painfully against the rest of house and the curtains are bright blue, yet another strange choice of colour coordination. When I asked my parents why they decided to choose such vibrant colours they simply said that red was lucky and blue was cooling. It was quite weird once I realised that my home in Vietnam also had blue curtains for "coolness". Nothing seems to fall into order, everything stands out like a sore thumb and yet the pieces of furniture all ironically compliment the randomness of each other. I guess it was a way of making this country feel like home.

On the other hand, the upper portion of the photo is somewhat of a play area where my sister and I spend most of our time. It too is also a confusion of sorts, though more in the placement instead of the colours. Filled with a bookshelf of only english books and a TV which only plays english shows. Sprawled out on the floors are more books and toys, which starkly contrast against the clean order of below. I guess in someways it represents how life is so much more different for my sister and I in comparison to immigrant our parents. Whilst they were brought up with strict societal conventions and an expectation to always be in order, my sister and I had the luxury of living the "Australian life" as my parents call it. Meaning, we grew up with no one screaming down in our throats about how to behave, think or feel. Instead we were given to freedom to be ourselves and I guess that's represented in the mess we make. :')

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The lunar calendar and the Gregorian calendar are both displayed around the house. The TV is constantly on playing either a Chinese drama or some Channel 9 segment. Our pantry is filled with Asian snacks and dried fruit from Costco. Our fridge contains left-overs from the week - fettucine cabonara and roast duck. Every single person's closet is organised so that our cultural dresses are on the right and everything else is hung on the left. The existence of two cultures within each space reminds me of de Kretser's suggested resolution to a post-colonial society. In accepting both cultures, one does not lose their ancestry and is exposed to new concepts.

My grandmother's house on the other hand is like a red museum. She kept a photo of Chairman Mao up until recently because she wanted to change the frame. She has photos of her siblings and other family on the walls. If anything, my grandmother adores her past. Whether she prefers red furniture is due to her adoration of Communism or because it is lucky, I don't know and I don't plan on asking her.

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Looking through my house, it's easy to see my parents take pride in their heritage and culture. Our house is full of various decorations and ornaments that have been meticulously picked to signify a rich and old culture. This is seen in the pictures with the statues to the almost ancient scroll rescued from my grandmother's house. I think the placement of all these objects serves as a form of comfort to my parents, as a reminder of home.
My room is a lot more sparse with filled with less cultural ornaments and a lot more pop culture references. However, I don't think the lack of inherently Sri Lankan decorations in my room shows my rejection of the culture, rather that I inhabit an ambiguous 'in-between'. While the living room, kitchen and dining area contain subtle reminders of home and my culture and the experiences of my parents, my room is more of representation of my experiences.

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In India a vast majority of the cars feature a small statue or trinket in the car, sitting above the head board or hanging from the rear-view mirror. Amongst 2 dream catchers my mother keeps a trinket featuring a hindu god, hanging from the rear-view camera in her car. Perhaps like those in India she is provided with a sense of security and comfort whilst on the road, due to the presence of the trinket. Or perhaps it provides her with a sense of comfort as she feels part of her country will always be with her.

Cramped on two shelves in our house are the great number of Bollywood DVDs. Some placed in hard cases others slipped into covers or simply stacked, one on top of the other. Growing up Bollywood films were a massive part of my childhood, every night would be movie night as my parents and I would sit down to watch a new film. From classics to flops, old to new, theres not a Bollywood movie you wouldn’t find at our home. Although not in living in the origin of these films my family stays in touch with the entertainment culture of India, by constantly investing ourselves in Indian films.

I stacked a couple of novels I found lying around the house, on a bedside table, in the study or in the lounge room. These two stacks consist of a broad range of novels, novels based in India, about Indians or written by Indian authors. Novel likes Immortal India and DELHI OMG!, base and structure themselves in the societies of India, and explore the conditions and being of the country. 2 States, Saraswati Park and Punjabi Parmesam delves into the lives of the Indian population, Chetan Baghat writes upon the struggle he has faced due to caste.

Theres also several novels based in Western Countries or written about and by caucasian individuals. A classic like The Outsiders, The Handmaids Tale, Call Me ByYour Name and On Beauty explore lives fairly different from the ones written by Indian authors, yet my family enjoys them just as equally. One that places itself between the two categories is The Story of India by Michael Wood, a novel written by an English historian about an English colonised country.

These and other small aspects of our home and belongings showcase the strong connection we have with our heritage and culture, when inspected it can be seen we keep a balance between both cultures. Our Indian culture vs our Australian culture. With this balance comes an attempt to preserve our culture and identity, and for my parents to create a space that feels of home.

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There is a clear distinction between my room and the rest of my house. My room is clean, neat and immaculate. The rest of the house is convoluted with ornaments straight from Sri Lanka. And here, a physical dichotomy is established, the boundary being the entrance to my room. Ostensibly, the house is a pure representation of Ceylon, with a well-formed identity and culture. And unlike the displacement the characters in THC feel towards their own cultural identity, a clear cultural identity is formed within my house, gathering from the multitude of adornments. On the other hand, my room is structured and straightforward in composition, with no traces of Sinhalese culture apart from one single bejewelled elephant statue which is purely situated for aesthetic purposes.  Thereby, my room denotes the stoic, logical and linear values of the British. If I was Sam, writing a manuscript about my life and describing my home, I would say that it was filled with “objects heaped on its shelves in disarray”.  However, looking at it from a post-colonial framework, my parents have clearly retained their cultural identity and have built a more “older, organic world”, right here in Australia.