Losing Home to Find Hope

A youth’s first lessons of passion, patriotism, and purpose derive from their state. As children, we have been raised to a line in our best posture to sing along to an anthem on a school morning that reassures our independence, evokes the Pakistani in all of us and most importantly, restates our purpose like most forms of primary and secondary socialization, to work hard for our country. As we celebrate our 76th year of freedom, it is unfortunate that our political climate and our position as a democracy have led us to find ourselves feeling hopeless and out of joy in the same country whose foundation was kept on hope.

There is no doubt that Pakistan has witnessed many great leaders and some not-so-great regimes. Our political history is as diverse as they come, with so much to learn and unlearn. Despite all the technicalities, the fact that 2.75 million young minds have moved abroad in the last five years alone (Ahmed, 2023) is a sobering thought. In the media, there is a bombardment of blame, opinions, and viewpoints to explain our failure to progress. The spirit of guilt that we feel, springs up inside our young minds when we want more than what the country has to offer. It traps us.

In an attempt to avoid choosing sides and to avoid the technicality of it all, this feeling is best described by the fact that Pakistan is a young country being led by older minds, robbing nearly 60 million of us of the passion and patriotism we exhibited on the very streets a decade or so ago, that now appear a little less green in March and August and the days that have been reduced to a much-awaited public holiday.

The conversation I had with friends who also have to deal with the upshots of a shrinking economy and the collective guilt of leaving their homes to build a better life led me to reveal a brand new way of thinking, one that might allow us to forgive ourselves for always wanting to leave our country because we are “entitled”, “selfish” and “disloyal” to those few who can sustain a somewhat happy existence here due to their privilege. Here is what they had to say:

“I witness the pain of the poor, the complaints and the struggle of the middle-class like me and the brazen ignorance of the elite…the hope that I had for Pakistan does not exist anymore.” -A student from Karachi.

“There was a time when my sister’s return ticket used to cost half of what it costs now…coming from a single-income household that runs on a military salary which is limited, it is difficult to keep up with today’s expenses.” - A student from Karachi.

“I wanted to work in Pakistan as a doctor after finishing my training in the UK because I wanted to be closer to family, however, the socio-economic conditions and lack of security in my country do not allow me to imagine my future as a medical professional, let alone a female in Pakistan.” - A Pakistani doctor practising in the UK.

When we magnify these experiences, we have millions of people away from home who are unable to return to their families and millions who are waiting for their loved ones to return home. Many of us struggle financially and miss out on opportunities because of our inability to make ends meet. In times like these, it is hard to say where we are headed as a nation. Balancing the impact of our struggles of being responsible citizens and voting for who can fix our home and unlearn and relearn what we have been conditioned to believe and become. Somewhere amidst the chaos of our reality, we are still 5-year-olds running in the streets of our city waving our flags on a warm August afternoon. If not to gain the life we were promised in this land, then we must forgive the children in us for wanting a life that is not ours now.