The Bay Area, California
October 22, 2007
On Sunday, during a lull in the Eid parties, I took the kids to a small regional park. It was a lovely day (like most other days in northern California), a cool breeze was more than made up by the robust sunshine.After the ritual dangling, sliding and swinging in the play areas, we took a walk around the park and eventually sat down on a bench facing the pond. For the kids, the main attractions were the ducks and geese that flocked over to us. For me, it was a respite from a cramped schedule to look back and reflect upon the last two years. Did I “return” then or have I “returned” now? What are the things that pulled me there and what has brought me back? I have been asked this question a quadzillion times and each time I have answered it differently. I wish life was simpler.
October 26, 2007
I often depict Pakistan as a society on the verge of collapse – during moments of despair, I even argue that Pakistan has passed the point of no-return, thereby hurtling with increasing speed towards a supernova of war, famine, internecine struggle and an ultimate, bloody, re-structuring of society. But, on other days, I think of the many remarkable people I met in Pakistan, some old friends and some I met during my brief stint there. I, admire their spirit more than anything else. All of them see how Pakistani society has gone from bad to worse, they realize that there is no quick fix, above all they realize that in the most optimistic scenario whatever effort they put into the cause that is Pakistan can show no measurable difference in their lifetimes. Yet they plod on, undeterred by criticism, unfazed by frequent and deliberate hurdles. Hats off to these pillars of hope, the unsung heroes and heroines of Pakistan. But, let us not be too exuberant– the group I have just described is a dying breed. As a percentage, there were many more of such people in the late seventies and early eighties than there are now – a vast majority has been converted to staple Pakistanis, corner cutting, cynical individuals, doing their best just to survive and feed themselves and their families.
Edward Said started his polemic “Orientalism” by describing the western caricature of the Orient [1]. He describes a typical bazaar in the Orient, where smells of spices, smoke from wood fires, shouting of hawkers and vendors, among others, combine to create a rich sensual experience [2]. With all due respects to Said, of whom I am an ardent fan, I find a lot of truth in this picture of the Orient. In Pakistan, all of one’s senses are continually being exercised – strange smells (mostly foul but sometimes good), sounds (mostly loud and noxious but sometimes enriching – particularly if you have a penchant for Punjabi humor), sights (generally hideous, but sometimes breathtaking) and other experiences await the adventurous. On one hand is the sterile blandness of the West, particularly that of the United States, and on the other hand you have sensual overload in Pakistan – smell, noise, shoving, pushing, extreme heat – you name it. The key, then, is one’s appetite for adventure. At forty (the formal start of middle age), maybe I am not as adventurous as I once was.
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[1] I am using a more classic definition of the Orient, which includes the Arab and Muslim areas of the globe.
[2] Maugham, in my opinion, did a much better job of describing the Orient in the “Magician”.
I read Salman’s short piece of October 22, 2007. It made me sad, for I once faced such a dilemma. To me two sentences are the crux of his piece. let me paste them and then comment briefly. Did I “return” then or have I “returned” now? and the second sentence pertaining to the reasons he returned “home” says: “each time I have answered it differently”. The first sentence is his dilemma, while the second is his confusion in understanding his dilemma.
If I am correct, Salman left Pakistan after passing his ‘A’ level exams. He returned a few years after completing his PhD. So his entire youth was spent outside Pakistan and in the USA. His two years in Pakistan surely saw him face a very different world, one in which he started out well and then took the soft option to returning to a paying job in the USA. He will now buy a house and live there. His is the typical dilemma of a first generation immigrant. Home is where the heart is. First time immigrants all face this dilemma. I also faced such a choice.
After completing my PhD in England and having a very nice job in the finest British newspaper, one took the difficult route. My heart was firmly in Lahore. It was very tough, very frustrating, very very difficult, but in the end it was all for the better. Pakistani newspapers were the pits, but one moved on and today I own a very large tannery and two related factories. I have also reestablished my journalistic career, have published a best-seller book on Lahore and the second one will be out soon. My 2 daughters were well educated and are married and live abroad. Now I have immense choices before me, and I intend to live a second full life. Why not. It is all a matter of creating choices for yourself.
A dilemma occurs when one is not able to create choices, or is scared of the very different environment in Pakistan. I am confident Salman has the guts to do well in any environment, to teach, to research, to face the normal leg-pulling which takes place in all environments. I am sure he can do business well. Come back to where your heart is … it is as simple as that, but first create choices in the land where your heart is. Its as simple as that. All said in utter concern and without gain. Wish you the best in any choice you make.