It's the air...

I came back from Pakistan about three days ago. It'd been a long time since I'd gone to Pakistan - one year and three months to be exact. Okay, so that's not exactly eons, but if you know me, you'll also know that I used to go back at the end of every semester in college. That's twice a year.

I left the US for Pakistan right before Christmas. At the time I was leaving, I was as americanized as can be. I'm not talking about bar-hopping or dating or stuff like that. I'm talking about subtler things, such as how I viewed the world...my perspectives...my point of views. I can imagine that Americans must take their mindset for granted. People think a lot over here. They analyze things. They have a culture, of course, but they're not bound by it.

Well, as soon as I stepped onto Pakistan soil, I knew I was a fish out of water. These were my people, this was my land, and yet they all felt so alien. The way they kept staring at you...the way they always had this chakri attitude, for lack of a better word. I loved my soil so dearly, and yet, when I was climbing down the steps of PIA flight 757, I'd probably never felt more alienated. It reminded me of a stanza in a ghazal that the great Nusrat Fateh had sung once:

Nasir is dayyar mein
Kitna ajnabi hai tu

But as I spent the days and met my friends and visited all these different places that I hadn't gone to in ages, this feeling of being disjointed began to slip away. Like a dhoti in high wind. (Sorry...been watching too many punjabi stage plays). And hence the title of this blog; as I breathed in the air around me, I felt everything rushing back. Old memories, old ways of thinking. Very very subtle things...I once found myself remembering what I had once thought when I looked out of my bedroom window. I found myself remembering her...long forgotten corner of my heart that she is. And very soon, I didn't feel alien anymore. I still had my own viewpoints, but I understood how the people around me thought. Why they did what they did.

To wrap up, I'm tired of living in America. It's a great big river. It carries you at blinding speed through life, and when you're washed ashore, you find that you've gained nothing important, but you've missed all the things that count. Relationships. Love. Watching your siblings grow. Spending time with your family. Making friends that you actually bond with like brothers...not acquaintances that you use to pass the time.

For now, I sit in pitch black, straining my eyes for the sweet glow of twilight.