A joke circulating on social media may be for humour, but reflects the Pakistani expat experience - fly to Pakistan for eye surgeries, dental work....
opinion
A joke circulating on social media may be for humour, but reflects the Pakistani expat experience - fly to Pakistan for eye surgeries, dental work, and cosmetic enhancements; shop for bridal joras, wedding attire, and gold jewellery and invest in plots. They stock up on achar, joshanda, and ispaghol. Between all the activities, they strive to find suitable matches for their marriageable children. After lapping up the desi offerings, they book their return flights with the age-old lament: “Ab iss mulk mey rakha he kya hai? How do people even live here?” Merely for laughs, I passed the joke to a Pakistani (United Airlines pilot living in Pennsylvania), who celebrates Thanksgiving and Christmas with more gusto than the average American family. After censuring me with an angry Altaf Hussain-like sermon, shredding Pakistanis who ‘can’t live without American products’ and that American life was far more glorious than the misery called Pakistan, and blocked me on Facebook - so much for being civilised, westernised, Americanised, or whatever-ised.
Pakistani expats are an altogether different melange of psyches, balancing Pakistani heritage and culture with adopted Western living. Some shed their Pakistani identities and cross to the other side but meet consistent challenges while trying to conform. During my six-month sojourn in the United States, I observed the desi community closely and found most people, particularly in Houston, friendly, outgoing, and courteous, at least toward me as my significant fan following in Houston surprised me: selfie requests, questions, appreciation. At Cafe Crave, I was flattered and honoured when Ali Shaikhani, a young Pakistani millionaire, extended a respectfully warm welcome and graciously picked up the tab.
However, beneath the warm smiles and outward confidence, the journey, though most may not admit it, is often marked by convoluted psychological and social dilemmas. The majority pines for the cultural essence, be it the chaotic yet lively weddings or the vibrancy of festivals. Navigating the cultural duality is complicated; on the one hand, they are aware of Pakistani values and traditions, and on the other, religious, cultural, and familial constraints impede assimilation in the Western configuration. The teen abandonment of school liberalism in the US, the religious crossroads of dining in non-halal restaurants and fast-food chains that serve jhatkay ka gosht, and alcohol consumption are only a few. The first-generation immigrants strived to preserve their cultural roots while adapting to the fiercely individualistic American lifestyle, the second-generation struggled to balance their parents’ expectations with their heavily American-influenced identity, which led to feelings of alienation from both cultures.
Many parents who migrated to secure better opportunities for their children, have high aspirations for them - encouraging careers in prestigious fields of medicine, engineering, or law; they certainly didn’t imagine their kids moving out of the house to live independently in another state. Yet, that’s what happens. While the kids chase their dreams, the parents live alone in empty homes. Many of my old friends living alone saw their adult children choose to live independently and prove themselves in a competitive environment. Raised in America with feelings of inadequacy, the children embrace progressive individualistic ideals. Career choices, marriage, and social lifestyles become points of contention, leading to misunderstandings or estrangement. The cultural dissonance manifests in their feeling ‘too Pakistani’ for mainstream America or ‘too American’ for traditional Pakistanis.
Pakistani expats redefine what it is to be Pakistani-American. Mostly, it may only be - jarring to the ears – exaggerated accents and appalling grammar, but in extreme cases some go above and beyond with ridiculous manifestations of exhibiting how Americanised they are. It can be a full-blown performance, for instance, my bizarre encounter at ‘Mezbaan’ restaurant in Houston’s desi hub, Hillcroft, where a group of Pakistanis hosted me at lunch. A group of ten Pakistani women sitting behind us were whispering and sneaking glances at me. When I rose for the buffet, a large, imposing woman wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and a crew cut arrogantly stopped me. “Are you an actor? There’s a debate at our table - some say yes, some say no.” I smiled and confirmed that I was an actor and that the plays they mentioned were mine. But instead of the usual appreciation, I was startled by her unexpected attack. She snapped, “I cannot believe that being in Houston you did not join the political rally yesterday. What kind of showbiz celebrity are you? You should have been there to support the rally (for Pakistan).”
All this in thirty seconds of conversation.
Stunned by her hostility, I calmly replied that I was on vacation and had no interest in political street demonstrations. She dismissed me with a wave, “I know what goes on in Pakistan,” launching into an anti-Pakistan rant, and atrocious remarks about Pakistan, embodying the American persona she had so fully adopted. The t-shirt and blue jeans persona spouting venom against Pakistan and the government made her group visibly uncomfortable, who tried to change the subject, “Nice meeting you, please enjoy your lunch.” My instinct was to question her why she did not move back to Pakistan and help build the country if she felt so strongly about politics. Houston is not Pakistan. But I decided she was not worth the energy. Instead, I had a silent thought for expats who left Pakistan in search of a ‘better life’ but can’t seem to stop meddling in its affairs. If you’ve been gone for three decades and have become American in appearance and behaviour yet can’t stop passing judgment, maybe it’s time to let go.
Starved for desi entertainment, they attend every event remotely reminiscent of home. Myriad qawals did the circuit, belting out qawalis for dollars. Houstonians drove as far as Dallas to watch desi concerts and shows of every cadre. The restaurant scene with names like ‘Mai Kolachi’, ‘Lasbela’, ‘Aga’s’, ‘Mezbaan’, ‘Javed Nihari’, ‘Bundu Khan’, ‘Desi Dhaba’, and ‘Karahi Boys’, don’t leave much to the imagination, while ‘Bombay Bakers’ offers cholay chat, pani puri, nimco, and mithayi.
At the heart of it all, the Pakistani expat experience is a complex mix of cultural pride, ambition, and the ongoing struggle to integrate. Their dilemmas echo the universal struggles of migrants everywhere regarding migration and identity. With empathy, understanding, and a little self-awareness, they can thrive as a vital part of America’s multicultural fabric -without losing sight of where they came from.
Author of ‘In the ruins of Solitude’, Zia Gurchani is an established writer and actor. His X handle is @ziagurchani
