There are days when you become more acutely alive, when you feel emotionally overwhelmed. This may happen on landmark occasions in your life, such as weddings and anniversaries. Also, when you travel and enrich your memory with new experiences.
This is what is happening to me at this time. My wife Sadiqa and I are in the United States, specifically in southern California, visiting our elder daughter Sheharbano.
But a kind of upheaval in my mind is not entirely related to travel itself. We have been doing this, almost annually, for about 25 years. It is the joy of being with our daughter and her family. And, increasingly, this joy is now being laced with a sense of desperation.
Why? Because time is running out. This is the reality of our lives as we age and as our grandchildren grow up. I realise that this is a rather familiar situation for a large number of middle-class Pakistani families. In my own circle of friends, there are examples of how old age is being attended by the absence of their children.
Yes, technology has allowed an intense virtual contact at will. But being together in real time and breathing the same air is what relationships are all about. It is this kind of intimacy that keeps one meaningfully alive.
Now, our story is that we have two daughters and both are settled abroad. Our younger daughter, Aliya, lives in northern Italy, near Milan. That is another destination for us on a regular basis. Actually, what we all aspire to is to be together in one place, which also happens, thankfully.
In recent years, we have strived to be together as frequently as possible. Our daughters come to Pakistan once or twice a year. We visit them when we can, depending on the time that can be set aside from our generally demanding preoccupations. Obviously, this yearning to be together remains on our minds while we are busy in our separate lives.
I am venturing to share these thoughts because I know they will resonate with a large number of people. So many families are divided by long distances and this phenomenon is etched into our collective consciousness. It has various sociological and economic and personal implications. I would say that this has left a large number of people permanently homeless.
Consequently, there must be countless stories, happy and sad, to tell. Ah, these words of Shelley have suddenly come to my mind: “Our sweetest songs are those that tell / Of saddest thought”. Certainly, we live a different life when we are with our daughters and our grandchildren. We consider ourselves extremely fortunate to have such a close-knit family.
It is interesting how our roles have drastically reversed. Just as we had pampered our daughters when they were little, our daughters now pamper their parents. Actually, they exercise more authority than we did. When I say this, I am also saying something about our child-rearing practices, though there cannot be any hard and fast rules about it. We had allowed our daughters as much freedom as seemed possible and we attribute that freedom as the reason for what they have become as human beings.
They now like to be in control, making decisions on our behalf. We do protest sometimes, but have to give in because of our lack of expertise in the ways of this world that has technologically left us behind. We have to admit that they love us to bits. We are being spoiled.
We have seen many variations of relationships between aging parents and their children. Here is a theme for television plays and relations within unhappy families have been the staple of many of our soaps. However, I am thinking of those relatively well-off families that have been divided as a result of their grown-up children migrating.
Well, I should not be so perfunctory about such a serious issue. It has only come up in the context of a personal experience. Besides, I still need some time to collect my thoughts and make a better sense of my present circumstances. We landed in LA just about four days ago, after a stopover in Dubai.
There is some jet lag that clouds your mind. It takes time to adjust to a new time zone – and there is a 13-hour difference between Pakistan and California. In addition, one of the longest nonstop flights that are there is bound to take its toll on your body and mind. We were up in the air for sixteen hours.
This is my excuse, then, for not being very coherent and not being able to structure my thoughts properly. But there certainly should be a lot to share when you arrive in the States from Pakistan, from Karachi in my case. Although I claim to know this country very well, having also lived here for three years in two separate stints in the seventies and eighties, there are always new insights for a journalist.
For instance, our American visas had expired for some months when we submitted our applications during the time of President Trump. A few things had changed. Then, we are now in the US after the mayoral elections of New York.
But our engagements would have little to do with politics or the dreary affairs of the world at large. For nearly three weeks, we are set to have a great time doing things that are not possible in Pakistan. There are always places to go and friends to meet.
As aging parents, we will be handled with great care and attention. There should be a lot of fun and laughter. After all, to live in the present moment is the rule prescribed for a happy life.
Yet, the dread of what may happen in the near future lies quietly in the back of our minds. I can hear Doris Day singing ‘Que sera, sera’. Whatever will be, will be. The future’s not ours to see.
The writer is a senior journalist. He can be reached at: ghazi.karachigmail.com