Looking homeward, dizzily

As the poet said: 'They are not long, the days of wine and roses'. Any extravagant retreat from the daily rigours of our lives, if we are at all able to secure it, does come to an end. And so I have to return to the raw winds and old wounds of Pakistan after an absence of about six weeks.

This, to be sure, is not an unusual experience for me. Since both our daughters live abroad, these trips have become an annual feature for many, many years. There is generally no great excitement about leaving Pakistan and coming back after an interval. But why am I so anxious about it on this occasion? What is different now, in my personal state of affairs or in the larger context of the country's social, political and economic circumstances?

Yes, the thoughts that I feel burdened with as we leave our elder daughter's house in southern California are somewhat unusual, even scary. Strangely, this apprehension relates to both personal and collective concerns. At one level, there is this pain that I share with a large number of ageing parents living away from our children and grandchildren. It poses the existential question of whether to emigrate to be with the loved ones or stay, nearly unattended, in Pakistan. The cost of living apart is horrendous, and not just in a material sense.

Somehow, this sensation of getting precariously old has deepened. At the same time, the idea of shifting to an alien territory is to be decisively rejected, in spite of passionate persuasions and sober arguments that we have to deal with. That Pakistan has become a great place to go away from is valid for younger people who are fearful of raising their children in a society that has apparently lost its bearings.

It is truly disconcerting to find Pakistanis, in the country and abroad, who have little faith in the future of their country. For many, it is the problem of making ends meet. For others, it is law and order. I know a family that left the country because of what they perceived was the drug scene in the elite schools of Karachi. Actually, it is a system that is broken – administratively, morally and intellectually.

Then, the country is at present passing through a specific phase when the caretakers, who are being taken care of by superior forces, are in office and the process of cleaning the PTI stables, in the aftermath of May 9, is continuing. Meanwhile, the army leadership is getting into gear to mend Pakistan's economy, as some developments have certified this week.

On Wednesday, Chief of Army Staff Gen Asim Munir asserted, on Defence Day, that "a strong economy is a must for the country's impregnable defence". This linkage between economy and military defence was further clarified the next day, on Thursday, when the top brass resolved, in a Corps Commanders' meeting, to "wholeheartedly" assist the government in curbing all illegal activities that hamper economic growth and stability.

Earlier, on Sunday, the COAS had assured the business community, in a widely covered session, of fostering transparency in dollar exchange and interbank rates. This contributed to some strength in the value of the Pakistani currency, though not enough to raise the spirits of an economically ravaged populace. In any case, it will be interesting to see how the military can play a role in GDP growth.

I have just become aware of the army's intended advance into the battlefield of the economy because I had resolved to by and large keep away from news from Pakistan during this vacation. I also avoided political conversations with Pakistani expatriates. A large number of Pakistanis in the US are ardent supporters of Imran Khan and, considering their lack of understanding of the existing realities, it is pointless to talk to them.

For that matter, I have not carefully been watching Pakistan. There has been no conscious attempt to catch on with realities that are emerging in the public domain. In a vague sense, I do suspect that some kind of change is in progress. Conventionally they say that the more things change in our country, the more they remain the same. But it should also be true that the more they change, the more they cannot be the same.

This would mean that I am not returning to the same Pakistan that I had left. Hence, it is fair to wonder if there is more hope now or less. In other words, what direction do perceptive observers see the country moving – and it would be fine if they say that it would be worse before it gets better. Ah, will things ever get better?

Why not? An eternal optimist may argue, with a disdain for what he can see with open eyes and think with an open mind. In fact, this is what the rulers must do; see and think. And, to compensate for their inadequacies in this regard; listen. Listen to those certified social scientists, historians and scholars who are becoming an endangered species in our political habitat.

You see, a kind of gloom is intruding on my mind as I return to Pakistan. I should instead be looking back at the time I have spent with the family in settings that felt like a dream. We were, for that brief interval, not concerned about the worries of the world and what I was reading about the epidemic of anxiety spreading in the United States did not affect our joy of being together. One is to be very lucky indeed to be able to steal such moments of bliss in a life that is generally not very rewarding.

However, I should admit that there was usually an undercurrent of melancholy in meetings with old friends and close relatives. Like in novels and arty movies, such close encounters can reveal new truths about relationships that, ultimately, are our real sustenance.

The writer is a senior journalist. He can be reached at: ghazi_salahuddin@hotmail.com