The e-mail was from “Khadija Whatever”. That caught my attention. In keeping with the laws of spam, I usually get about 20 junk mails for every useful one. The name, however, was intriguing so I opened it. “Khadija” had apparently read an article I wrote for Chowk many moons ago in which I examined the expatriate’s age old dilemma: accept one’s adopted country as a permanent home and thus remain (in effect) an immigrant for life or consider returning ‘home’ (meaning in this case to one’s country of origin) and grapple with all the attendant problems thereof.

As the poet said:

“Azaab yeh bhi kisi aur par nahin aaya
Tamaam umr chaley aur ghar nahin aaya.”
[There are few who have been so cursed
To wander all one’s life and never arrive home] (Iftikhar Arif)

“Khadija” wanted to know if I was back in my home country or if “wealth, success, security and opportunity” had sapped my resolve to return.

Immigrating (or returning) is an intensely personal decision that is based on a myriad of factors, most of them unique to each individual. Most of us, though, wonder, from time to time, how things might have been had we taken another fork in the road of life. So, Khadija, or whatever your real name is, decide for yourself.

I immigrated to the US in 1994, about 3 years after graduating from medical college in Lahore. I wanted to get more education and, eventually, make more money than I would otherwise. My aim at that time was to get an American education. I had not planned beyond that. There are few of us ambitious (or foolhardy) enough to have their whole life mapped out. In any case, notwithstanding the terminal fatalism that seems to afflict most of the Pakistani population, there is a certain benefit in not ‘over planning’, keeping in mind the old adage that ’man proposes and God disposes’. There are just too many variables that are uncontrollable over an extended period of time.

My adventure in the USA is currently in its eleventh year and the end appears near. My determination to return to the land that gave me birth has been bolstered by a number of reasons. It is something that most of us wish for. Being of a mischievous bent, I never miss an opportunity to raise the subject in a ‘desi’ gathering. Scratch the surface of any expatriate and there it is: the longing for ‘the old country’. The booming industry that supplies ethnic groceries, clothes, movies, books, newspapers, and everything imaginable to make the immigrant feel at home is testament to that.

Anyone who grows up in one land and then, for whatever reason, migrates to another, feels the pull of the homeland. Globalization has made it impossible to erase old feelings and memories. My father came to US for a couple of years in the early 70s. Back then, the only means of communicating were letters, which meant waiting weeks or months for replies. When I was twelve my father recorded my voice and my younger brother’s on an audiotape so he could mail it to my mother who was studying in the USA at the time.. If you had money and didn’t mind the scratchy voice quality, you could book a ‘trunk call’ on the phone for a few minutes but that was it. Now, all you have to do is pick up the phone and talk as long as you want. With more and more airlines offering direct flights to India and Pakistan, visiting is easier too. It makes it harder to adjust in your new home since you are always left with the feeling that you are missing something, a birthday, a wedding, a family gathering. You might call it ‘the grass is greener on the other side’ syndrome.

Being in America virtually guarantees most hard working immigrants a comfortable middle class lifestyle. Once you own a home, a car or two, have a good job and a few thousand in the bank, you no longer feel on the verge of destitution, like a lot of people back home. Once the economic issue is no longer paramount, we begin to feel restless again. Part of it is what my father aptly termed ‘survivor’s guilt’. We see the poverty and misery in the world particularly in our home countries, we see our comfortable (sometimes lavish) lifestyles and we feel guilty. Most Pakistanis in America seem to turn to religion to provide a salve to their souls. That also seems to be the one way (to some, the only way) to maintain an identity in the melting pot that is America. It provides community and friendship, things that are hard to come by sometimes. It also provides a handy way to control rebellious children (and spouses) who, invariably, are affected by the secular, independent culture that is a hallmark of most western societies.

On the other side of the coin, in Pakistan, the primary reaction to my plan to relocate back is still incredulity. The recent growth in Pakistan’s economy notwithstanding, IMF reforms and Structural Adjustment Programs have had the same effect here as in many other countries. There are outward signs of prosperity and affluence everywhere, at least in Lahore. Huge billboards advertise new housing schemes, bank loans to buy consumer goods, cell phones, TVs and air conditioners. Posh new restaurants are springing up everywhere and are packed most nights. Five star hotels are filled with people shopping, eating, celebrating weddings and generally ‘seeing and being seen’. There are multistory shopping complexes and buildings springing up everywhere.

At the same time, the poor are getting poorer, the middle class continues to be squeezed by taxes and inflation, the rich are getting richer and crime and pollution is rampant. One Sunday morning we drove a few miles out of Lahore to look at some land we were thinking of buying. On the way, we passed rows upon rows of farmhouses and country estates nestled behind high walls. Our driver told us how between 9pm and 2am, dozens of luxury SUVs hurtle back and forth on muddy, potholed roads carrying guests to and from the city to parties in these estates. These luxurious abodes are built alongside mud huts where semi naked children play in the dust, cows bath in ponds and chickens peck in the mud. There are huge new mansions being built in all the posh localities of the city. At the same time, you cannot stop at any traffic light without being assailed by beggars, some of them children.

Our driver told us he and his family recently built a one room house in one of Lahore’s numerous slums but they can’t afford doors or windows and have to have a family member on guard day and night so people don’t break in and steal cooking utensils, taps, soap or anything they can get their hands on.

Unlike the USA (or I presume any Western country), there is no way to get anything done in Pakistan unless you have ‘connections’ or money or preferably both. Something as trivial as getting an airline ticket reconfirmed requires ‘calling someone’ who then smoothes the way. If by accident you show up at an office or place of business without an ‘introduction’, you are likely to be patronized, if not humiliated, and turned away empty handed. Of course, a little ‘tip’ can always make things move along faster. The amount depends on what you are trying to get done. This also means things that can usually be accomplished with a phone call in the US or at most with two minutes exertion are likely to require several hours, if not days, and leave you feeling exhausted and dispirited.

For example last year, on the way back to the US, we were stopped and harassed by Pakistani customs at the airport. First they insisted the Indian movie DVDs I had bought in a local shop were ‘outlawed’ and could not be taken to the US. Then they decided I could take them if I gave them some money. I did not mind giving them money since even with the bribe, the movies were cheaper than if I had bought them in America but the whole episode left me with a bad taste in my mouth. This time I called a friend of mine in the Pakistan Civil Service. He found someone at the airport that received us at our car and escorted us all the way to the departure lounge without a hitch. Of course, if I had not had the right ‘connections’ I would likely have been abused again.

Despite all this there is an abundance of community, family and friends. People always seem to have time to chat or have a cup of tea. One rarely feels alone or isolated and there is a healthy feeling of ‘connectedness’.

Living and working among your own people also seems to provide a visceral satisfaction that is sometimes missing when working in the US.

Inspite of the cut throat competition for scarce resources, people still mingle, eat out, celebrate and generally live their lives with remarkable serenity. ‘Que sera sera’ is the ruling sentiment and perhaps rightly so since planning (anything) is virtually impossible. At the end of the day, things somehow, miraculously, get done and if something gets left out, well, that’s OK too.

As I said at the beginning, migrating is an intensely personal decision and so is returning to one’s roots. It is influenced also by the two generations on either side of us: our children and our parents. Wanting to raise your children in a familiar culture and wanting to be near to or take care of aging or ailing parents are big factors in the decision. In the end, home is where the heart is.

A Psychiatrist friend of mine once remarked that we employ all kinds of intellectual arguments for profound life decisions when we are often driven by emotions that are hidden deep in our subconscious minds. We simply justify the decision after the fact.

So Khadija, even though my journey has been longer than I expected, I will be back home soon, for better or worse. As to whether this is the ‘right’ decision, look me up in 5 years and I’ll let you know…..