Immigrants: Na Idhar ke, Na uddhar ke

Not too long ago, on this very website, I remember reading an article on the immigrant experience that said something to the effect of "immigrants are neither here nor there - na yahaan ke na wahaan ke". At the time, I simply guffawed at the statement. What nonsense, I remember thinking; it is absolutely great to have this immigrant experience, wonderful to belong to two countries, two cities, two cultures. However, today I have come full circle and realize the folly of my judgement.

I moved to Canada four years ago - at the time, we - my spouse and I - were determined to "make a life" in Toronto or live there permanently. However circumstances and family obligations impelled us to move back to Pakistan eventually.

While in Toronto, I was constantly accompanied by a feeling of inadequacy, loneliness and nostalgia. I missed Karachi terribly and wanted nothing more than to return back. Although my stay in North America was not deviod of memorable times: it was refreshing to move amidst people who cared more about what was happening around them than about the size of the diamonds in your earlobes. It was also wonderful to get a chance to live independently with my better half, the freedom to break into countless brawls without having to worry about who could be listening, and for me to study and work in a non-patriarchal (perhaps not completely but much more so than Pakistan) society. There were alot of firsts, milestones in my life that Toronto made possible. The first time I went to university, read Marx, met Tariq Ali, went to an antiwar march, ate Ethiopian food, and started a blog. Despite all of this though, there was a nagging empty feeling that did not go away.

Whenever, I would hear of a family gettogether, or when Ramzan or Moharram would approach, I would want to be back in Karachi. I would long to partake in the many occasions that these times bought along and that I was accustomed to be a part of since childhood. At the end of four years, when we decided to go back permanently to Karachi, I was jumping with joy. Time for my emancipation, I thought - finally.

As our departure date loomed closer, I started thinking about my time in Toronto, taking stock of the things I would miss, the subway, the freedom, the friends, the walks, the greenery. This move may not be all that I have made it out to be, I reflected for the very first time. There was indeed a possibility that the empty feeling would follow me to Karachi and stay with me, even if mellowed down somewhat.

And surprise surprise. I come back to Karachi, initially euphoric, very happy to be back to my city of lights but soon learn that it has also turned into the city of gundas, dug up roads, countless cellphones, ridiculously expensive eateries, and a city of extreme poverty alongside extreme wealth. Some of these flaws were not new to me, but sitting miles away in Canada, I had created a utopian picture of Karachi, neatly contructing it by conveniently eliminating the ugly.

The only thing that did stand true against the backdrop of all this ugliness, was the family tie. I still maintain it is great to be around my parents. When I ask myself if I would be happier in Toronto, I find myself hesitating to say yes. The loneliness would still nag me, I would still miss being part of the eid dawats and family weddings, I would miss the city’s vibe - that particular something that Karachi possesses which is hard to put in words but which you feel sitting out on a cool december night after a lovely khattakhat meal under the clear sky, or the feel in the air after sehri, or when dusk descends.

The camaraderie one feels among friends from kindergarten days, or cousins one grew up with. This was what Karachi offers. But after living in a city where systems work, where the government actually cares what happens to its people, where everyone is accorded the same rights (not to say they are neccessarily equal - what with racism and its like. I am speaking in relative terms), where one is not subjected to second hand smoke within their home - or everywhere they go, where paying bills and getting one’s phone fixed does not take ridiculous amounts of time, where social gatherings do not entail discussing X, Y and Z’s assets or what car they drive. The list goes on and on. Toronto has its advantages, but I cannot live there for the rest of my life. Yet, although my nagging loneliness has left me, it has come to be replaced by another equally nagging emotion - ambivalence. And although there was a time when I thought immigrants being nowhere was a gross misstatement, I have come to realize that indeed, I am neither iddhar ki, na uddhar ki.