Home is where the heart is

The homesickness and Nostalgia that I have been feeling off late has not lost its original intensity. If anything it has been consistently on rise. Nostalgia is but natural for a person with my level of solitude. Also I have 2 and a half decade worth of memories. I have a memory of an elephant ( I have always resented this analogy). I have had an interesting life and I have had some really sweet people come into my life at various junctures. So all in all Nostalgia is justified.


Now some people may ask what is it that I miss about home, especially under the current circumstances where it may not be the most desirable place for a vast majority of people - Pakistani or otherwise. Also, by the grace of God my parents visit us often enough and my sweet aapi and her adorable 3 kiddies live but a two hour flight away. So Why do I miss home? The traffic is better here, there are no electricity outages, no one comes and feels (or pinches) my gluteus maximusarea (more frankly called - the ass) in a crowded mall, there is definitely much less pollution. No one wonders about my doomed unmarried existence and sighs wistfully. People are more courteous and less ill-tempered, and no one stops me at the traffic light on gunpoint and snatches my cellphone and gold bangles (never happened to me in or out of Karachi).

But there is so much more to my country and to my city than can ever be shown in CNN special report or described in a NY Times article. That never reaches the media does it?

Well that is what I miss about home, what not many people know, hear, see or feel. I am happy to be in the US since I have found a lot of things here that I never had before or I had somehow lost. But home is where the heart is and part of my heart will always be in Pakistan.

This post is not a patriotic attempt to raise the image of a country so plagued with trouble and terror. I am just a homeless soul living in a five-star hotel, trying to remember what gave me immense pleasure in my run down, modest abode, which cant quite compare with the happiness that I feel here. Despite the noise and disorderliness. Whats missing?

The unceasing moist sea breeze. People that share your worries, grief and happiness (whether you want it or not, such is there sincerity). Rickshaws. Eid/Ramadan get-togethers. Family picnics on the beach. Family picnics on Hub farm. Family picnics on Bibi's farm (any farm for that matter). PIDC paan. Chand Raat. Bargaining with Pathans. Beating up Pathans. Getting pinched by Pathans (scratch that one). The prayers and good wishes of elders. Love and attention of people. The sky at night in Karachi. Nani Maa's roof top. Raza and his nonsensical talks. Saira and our rendezvous. Tennis with ex-best friend. Monsoon. Mangoes. Electricity Outages. Secret Phone calls. Kabab Rolls. Bhaiya. Sunday Bazar. Cricket matches at national stadium. Junoon concerts. Driving in Karachi. S phupoo. Ex best friend's mom. Lil one who left me in Cali. Bohri Bazar. Bohri Bazar Chat. Family outings at BBQ Tonight. Five of us together. Traffic sergeants. My little hawker friends who sold flowers on traffic lights. The undying spirit of Karachihites. My Tailor. Zamzama. KU and KU friends. KG Library. Sea view. Breakfast at Boat Basin. Driving on Sharae-faisal 2:00 am in the morning. Gajak. MY sister when she was single. My sister's best friend when she was single. Zainab Market (I know its not the same anymore but what is?) Guavas. Sabri nehari. The ability to go out and eat anything at any hour of the day. Quetta. Bus trip to Quetta. Weddings (yes I miss them. The bride, the food, the reason to deck up and check out good looking guys...they hardly exist in Karachi but that never stopped us). All the family ladies when they were not aunties lol. And, and , and....

The list will go on. Its never ending. I am homesick for the home that is so influenced by my nostalgic tendencies. Some of the things on my list wont be there when I go back home, but they are part of what is missing. I am aware of it.

Things you leave behind, things that are kept away from your reach, things that make up your person, your mind, your past and present. Things that forever remain important no matter how far away they maybe. Things if harmed or damaged, hurt you in ways you never deem possible. Things that will remain your identity. My home, for me, is all such things and more.

Allah tumhari hifaazat karay. May God bless our Home.