The Smart and the Ordinary

Nice story, but ....

Ordinary`s love should not have been a nice deaf-mute girl with all qualities of a good wife.

She should have been a filthy, foul-mouthed hag who never missed an opportunity to insult or humilate him.

To Saaf-Go:

I must say your response was very touching and well said. It is quite common with folks who have tunnel vision to label others. In fact I feel it is there own deficiency that creates hinderance in their horizons.

Well, the other way to see is that God helps those who helps themselves. U want to achieve your goals in life that may be xyz and that is important to you. So you will do that in any case, no matter you have got to go to Timbuktoo.

Does not mean that you are selfish! Shows your conviction, motivation, will-power and above all strength of character.

We`d rather have these in our people than the morons sitting there with labels ``Good for Nothing`` taking the country down to drains.

Take Care

All people who leave their countries and adopt others are not disloyal - one should not pass moral judgement on them. The path of life for them is not downhill either. I discover new worlds, new cultures, traditions and new Love. Can I not love more than one country? Can I not make new friends?

Kamala Das once said in one of her articles where she talked about cruel religious rituals `My God has matured along with me`. I would say `my concept of loyalty to a country` has matured along with me. Those who stay back home should not label us as money chasing disloyal beasts. The candle of love is burning in the hearts of many of us.

As I stated in my earlier post my reason for coming to this country was to get an education and earn a better life for my family and myself. I did not want to be poor. I did not want my family to be poor. I had a better chance to achieve financial and worldly success here than in my own country. Along the way I discovered a new love, America.

In seeking my worldly success I was meeting expectations of my family and friends. You do want to provide a better living for your loved ones. And it goes without saying that you want a good life for yourself too. Although the definition of a good life would change as we meet our goals in life. We would want to do things other than making more money; help other people; help our extraordinary brothers build a better country.

Yes, I did not love my country as much as Arsalan`s brother, he is extraordinary. But imagine a situation where he is one who chose not to leave the comfort of his home to struggle abroad so that he could afford a good education for his children and medical care for his parents who expect it from him. Is he betraying his family? The family who raised him by sacrificing money, time, freedom, and all the good things that they could have had they not chosen to raise him. He is not doing the best that he could do to provide for them the way they expect, the way the society expects. He would be labeled coward and crazy and will not have many friends. He would not be a hero.

Our parents do not have retirement plans. Good or bad they do expect their children to take care of them. It is brave for their sons/daughters to try to meet their expectation. And it is our right to pursue worldly success that buys freedom from the mundane survival and allows us the luxury of time to think about things like loyalty and love.

To saf-go

There is a post, some where down below by saf-go, a young immigrant, almost made it in THE country, a young son, looking forward to becoming an American: and he lived happily ever after.

No my friend, the story doesnt end there. The children grow up in the american way, quickly they learn that old is rotten and to be discarded, each to eneself, it is a herd world out there, no one is there to help. He learns from his class mates that a christmas lunch with the parents, if you see them then, it is great.

As the years progress, the children if smart enough will educate get themselves and get a decent job and move out, otherwise they will any how move out to the streets or prison. Facing old age in the security of the investment and the largely vacant, mortgage free house, you will wonder what life is all about, is it what I hoped for when i set foot here.

In the mean time you will realise that to meet the mortgage and childrens schooling, you had hardly visited pakistan, you had hardly send any money to help the ones back home, you said you didnt have time to call home, but in fact you didnt want to waste money on phone calls. You will realise that you have burnt the bridges, you have no where to go, you can have your fourth hip replacement and the quadruple bypass, you can afford it, but you will realise that in essence you are simply waiting for death.

There is probably an alternative, think of the dark side I painted, think of the people, your friends and relatives, may it is not necessary to pay of the mortgage so quickly, may it is more important to visit pakistan than the other ities of the US to be in with the crowds, by be you can afford a few calls to pakistan every month.

No saaf-go, they didnt live happily ever after, they were probably on a down hill path.

I have been with you from the beginning, the first week that Chowk came on PESA, and yet I am a newcomer.

I remained on the sidelines, reading, deliciously and with longing, while all the wonderful articles and responses came down, as nourishing as rain.

And like all rain, those words have caused a germination to grow, and so I have to write.

I have a younger brother, Arsalan, a younger brother in Karachi with the biggest heart in the world, who has stayed behind.

Arsalan, you are one of several who has moved me so, with your words.

The fingers are typing, Khan sahib is singing and what wishes to emerge is more than tongue can speak.

But speak and write I will. If the editors at the chowk cast a kind eye, I will. In the meantime, I`m glad you wrote the article

REF: #13 smart&ord.

KHALED.

No harm reminding a primary school story: A simple man purchased a lamb and took it home. On the way three thugs noticed him and planned to cheat. The first one goes to the man and says, “what a beautiful dog, what is it called, do you want to sell? The man was very annoyed and told him that that was not a dog but a lamb. The cheat again said that some body made a fool of him and sold him a dog instead, in his simplicity he had taken it for a lamb. If he didn’t believe he could ask somebody else”. As planned the thug no: 2 appeared and fondling the lamb called it the dog. The same dialogue ensued and then the third with the same. Bhutto believed, “tell a white lie over and over again till people start believing it”. Of course no body is hundred percent right and no body is hundred percent wrong. To question is the degree. I enjoy the scenery when I compare it with Ibe Safi Novels. I remember a tour with the then Governor of Baluchistan, Nawab Akbar Khan Bugti. People at one place demanded for Nationalisation of Education as had been done all over but in Baluchistan, and a police station. To the Nationalisation of Education he replied in a vehement NO. (lucky Baluchis!). And on the demand of a police station he advised, “Don’t ask for one, when they come they will have to show their efficiency and to do that they will invent crime! “IT IS MINTO’S HAMAM”/ Give the dog a bad name and shoot it! If I borrowed it right, view through a coloured glass doesn’t render a true hue.

tariqlodi

Thank you Arsalan for this very moving work.
For many of us, there is that ``ordinary`` brother
who braves life in Pakistan. You have, in this
writing succeeded in honoring our ``best`` in Pakistan.
You wrote:

``These children are not the ones to abandon
their playground for something better, only to reminisce about it later in life. They are not interested in writing about history; they
are the ones who make history. They are the sons of the Ordinary.``

My own response to this is ``Inshallah``.

Ras

PS: Can you/I send this to another Pakistani-American publication?

I find Arsalans portrayal of the ``city of lights`` touching, sad, and steeped in rightful pity. What was once a great monument to our independence has succumbed to that worst of primordial instincts: the instinct of ethnicity and parochialism. In this their plight the vast majority of Karachiites are equally to blame: trusting their destiny to an ethnic group led by inexperienced, young (too young), and unknown people whose agenda revolved around fanning communal differences and hatred: as the poet says in Urdu: ``Iss ghar ko agg lag gayee ghar ke chiragh se.`` Bravo Arsalan for your lucid and poignant portrayal. May the people of Karachi learn from their error in judgement and relent the next time we go to the polls.

Lest I should be misunderstood.

I have been away too, and know and can feel the misery and torture that you all feel and what you miss. You are on the giving end when you care. May be having been away and learning something I am earning a living, but my sole lament in my life is why I was away for that long and in that age when love bonds and trust are strengthened, that no body remembers me-I do not KNOW any body. I feel like a grown up tree which, was pulled off and planted elsewhere and the process repeated. Finding myself a misfit in the society because I acquired worst of the habits abroad: telling the truth and expecting others to do the same. I stumbled and do on the first step I get out of my house. In due course I wanted to get away once again, was even successful four times in securing a job elsewhere. but shuddered on the thought of missing what I missed during my previous scape and declined and kept on contributing my little bit in spreading white lies with shame and gaping mouth and satisfied at what little good I could do by way of giving, whenever I could with devoted zeal. Once I confided to somebody that I did not wish to be here when my father would die, because I couldn?t bear it. He said, ?your kins would need you most at that time of grief?.

tariqlodi

Very touching indeed!

I salute your brother, the Ordinary. He is an exception - an Extra Ordinary. He is lucky to have the love that fills his heart despite what happens around him. Most people, given an opportunity, would choose not to be left behind.

However, I would like to add that most people, as Bina has pointed out, are a mix of ordinary and smart. Bina, I think, is a mix of two ordinaries and a smart. Not all those who leave Pakistan check their loyalty at the airport. And this is why the Ordinaries should not spurn our interest in the welfare of the country.

Here is something I wrote about my experiences in the United States:

Note: I have changed some names.

A journey from an Alien to a Citizen

Saleem sahab, an OU graduate and a proud IMAGINE-X scholar (working at IMAGINE-X was a scholarly achievement - lot of work, little pay and great experience) has recently received his green card. He will qualify for citizenship in early 1999. Like many of us who will soon qualify for citizenship he is also facing the decision - should he become a US citizen? And give up the Pakistani passport. I will soon qualify for citizenship myself and am thinking about applying for it. Although it seems like a natural next step in our so predictable lives to now become a US citizen, the thought of making such a final leap and to give up Pakistani citizenship does make me think about my relationship to these two countries.

For the first few years here (in the US) I was an ``Alien`` just as so many immigration status titles suggest. I was a foreigner in an unfamiliar land who came here to accomplish a mission - get a degree, earn a lot of money and go back home to live with the family and friends. Like many others I did get the degree, and money (it will never be enough) but returning home remains a dream.

During those early years I did not have much of a life here - just some middle class Pakistani friends who I shared with the dream of graduation and economic success. They were also my partners who shared the school, classes, assignments, grocery, dinners, apartment, and rooms. For most of us these were times of desperate survival. Our lives revolved around attending classes, cooking, cleaning, working odd jobs and studying for assignments and tests. A well-cooked meal was a joy we all cherished and a luxury we could not afford every day. We hardly had time to fix a quick and edible meal. An out of state trip during a spring break was all the EID we had here.

We switched cooking/cleaning and job schedules with our friends when someone had to study for a test, helped each other with assignments and tests, shared our books, bikes, and also the School ID cards (for the privilege of using computer lab when we were not enrolled in it or for riding on campus bus - our only mode of transport). Very few of us had cars during those days. The ones, who did have cars, had the responsibility of driving us to the store for groceries every week and teaching some of us to drive when we were ready to buy a car.

As we all graduated and started looking for jobs we again relied on each other for assistance. We would help each other with preparing resume, recommending jobs, providing moral support and guiding with the immigration processes. Most of us were still single at that time and some of us had jobs and others working odd jobs and looking for work. We had more time at our hands than we did during our school years. We spent this time mostly gabbing about green card, job, prospective wife, family, culture and religion. The philosophical discussions on education level, beauty, class, and complexion of prospective wives continued for several weeks at a time - next to green card this was the most fun conversation during that time.

All this time Pakistan was never far away. We were aware of our obligations back home and frequently sent money, made phone calls regularly and often cried thinking about the family back home. This was the time when I thought I was in Pardais. Although I lived in America, home for me was still Pakistan. All this time I thought that I was struggling here, away from home, where life was waiting for me.

All of us have now succeeded in our endeavors to achieve economic independence and stability. Although we don`t have as many friends and relatives as we had in Pakistan we are comfortable in the social settings that we have here. I have grown to admire the racial tolerance in America. I am more comfortable here than I would have been in any other state Muslim or Non-Muslim. I recognize that some of this acceptance of diversity and racial tolerance in America does come from the economic prosperity that this nation has been blessed with but its unique history does give the natives a unique perspective on racial diversity. And I as a Muslim from Pakistan I am not alone in the ever-growing number of immigrants here.

Over the last many years I have come to love this country. I have just as many good memories of America as I have of Pakistan. My first teaching assistantship, my first car, my first job here, and the birth of my son, Adeel. As long as I live here I will miss Pakistan. I will miss my family and friends, and all the growing up experiences, successes and the failures, the disappointments and the triumphs. The sound of a milli naghma and Pakistani national anthem will make me nostalgic and bring back the memories of Pakistan that was my only home once. But now if I return to Pakistan I will miss all the things that I have here. And although financial success is a big part of why so many of us want to live here, the ideals of freedom and liberty that are cherished here is what makes living here so rewarding. I have a new country and a new home now. My son, who is two years old, now recognizes the McDonald, the Bank of America, ATT and all the big and famous corporate logos and symbols. He yells out Bank of America or ATT whenever he looks at these symbols. He learns new things from his favorite TV shows. And although we try to speak Urdu with him he learns English from TV and his friends. His growing up experiences are all American - Our experiences as parents are all American. We enjoy the benefits of living in a prosperous civilized country that constitutionally strives for racial tolerance and are thankful for it.



A letter evoking the memories of Pakistan, memories of my childhood and family still makes me misty-eyed but I have put my nostalgia in perspective. I cherish those memories and they will always remain very much part of me. Today, however, I live here - in America and looking forward to becoming an American.

Very Touching and so true!

Thank you for this moving and thought-provoking piece.

Yes, some make history, while others write history. Similarly, some live culture while others write about it!

Dear brother, the Lord`s grace is ever-flowing, our wretchedness notwithstanding.

My heartfelt prayers for peace, prosperity, honour and glory for Pakistan and her people.

Regards

V Ramaswamy

Only the wearer knows where the shoe pinches!

May be man is born a pauper with extended hand for beggary but some strive to attain the position, from receiving end to the giving one.tariqlodi.

Lovely...very moving.

Something in here for everyone to identify with, whether you are smart or ordinary, or a mix of both.

Bina.

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Arsalan:

Bravo! Such poignanacy, pathos and passion.

As the plane takes off, looking out the window, knowing full well that things down below will be worse when I return. You have brilliantly captured the essence. Except, I do not have a dream to sustain. No dream, no hope. Just disillusionment. But how can that be. No hope means I am dead, we`re dead. But we`re not dead yet. Only not living. How to change it, how to revive hope?

You`ve touched some raw chords, my friend.

regards