WHEN YOUR HOME IS IN A DIFFERENT COUNTRY THAN YOUR HOUSE

 

I live in Arkansas, America. It's quite nice. I love the clean, fresh air and the cute southern accents but it's not a match for my home, Karachi, Pakistan.

 

Despite popular American beliefs, Pakistan is not an average third world subcontinental country. Yes, there are villages and small towns that aren't very high tech or  Indian grocery secured but all in all, it's reaching the Western level slowly.

 

I remember those hot afternoons when it felt like my skin would never stop sweating. Then, in the evening, it would get cool and breezy and I'd wondered how it the temperature drops 25degrees F in a couple of hours. Sitting on the roof, looking out at the city in the evening was magical. People driving fast and birds flying high, both rushing home to get to their families. The owls came out along with the college students who studied all day, then slept, and then enjoyed. Partied, drank, smoked, and had sex? No, they enjoyed with friends by singing and laughing and telling stories. Talking about everything from politics and sports to the weather and religion.The little outside open restaurants supplied tea and snacks and the cool breeze helped cheer them up after a hectic day. Looking at all that from the roof of my building was like watching the town conform from a busy, business city to a laid back happy town.

 

What I loved even more was inside the houses where most women and men with families stayed. From watching TV to playing cards, everything was so happy and cheerful. Loving each other to the limit because kal ho na ho (maybe there's no tomorrow). When father's came home from work, the family would have dinner and then spend time together. Even though almost everyone owned a T.V. and/or computer, they weren't a big part of the day. People talked face to face and played games together instead of online. That energy and that feeling of your body pumping adrenaline instead of blood was phenomenal.

 

At night when you laid down, you'd remember the day and think about how lucky you were. No, you didn't have all the facilities an American kid would have but yes, you were  Indian grocery way happier the way you were.

 

Living in a Pakistani city where Islam stresses that we can die any day at any time, was a struggle. A struggle that I loved from the depth of my heart. A struggle I'm nostalgic for.

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