Uploaded July 2026 | Updated September 2026, 13 hours ago
While cycling through the Sahara Desert in Morocco, I reached the same latitude as Layyah, the town in Pakistan where I was born. If I drew a straight line towards the east, it would cross deserts, mountains, cities, rivers and seas before reaching the place where my story began.
Layyah was 7280 kilometres away. Yet, for a moment, it felt very close.
Perhaps our origin is an essential part of our identity. It shapes who we are, even after we have travelled far from it. My father always used to say, “My son, whatever you become, wherever you go, don’t forget your roots.”
After more than a decade on the road, I am still trying to understand what home really is.
Is it where we were born, where someone waits for us, or simply an attachment we are unable to let go of?
Maybe we never truly leave home.
What does home mean to you?
While cycling through the Sahara Desert in Morocco, I reached the same latitude as Layyah, the town in Pakistan where I was born. If I drew a straight line towards the east, it would cross deserts, mountains, cities, rivers and seas before reaching the place where my story began.
Layyah was 7280 kilometres away. Yet, for a moment, it felt very close.
Perhaps our origin is an essential part of our identity. It shapes who we are, even after we have travelled far from it. My father always used to say, “My son, whatever you become, wherever you go, don’t forget your roots.”
After more than a decade on the road, I am still trying to understand what home really is.
Is it where we were born, where someone waits for us, or simply an attachment we are unable to let go of?
Maybe we never truly leave home.
What does home mean to you?
