Charm.

There is a flicker of a curious charm in being an immigrant. From being courageous enough to let go of the known and embrace the unknown, to walking towards a new existence, comprising of soil with a different taste; there is a certain appeal. There is a richness, in the wavering decision to not return, in case you are haunted by the uncertainty of belonging or not belonging. And the way you succumb to the natural transitioning of your accent, you are amused with a hint of astonishment. Your voice seems to have a mind of its own, but your tongue deceives you at times, by unintentionally regressing to the past. Yet I find myself longing for a glimpse.

There’s a part of me still standing at the fruit and vegetable cart, bargaining prices with the stubborn vendor. There’s a part of me still telling the kaleidoscopic-patterned rickshaw drivers, who stop by every pedestrian, that I really don’t need a lift. There’s a part of me still sweating during our regular power blackout sessions, swearing at how the government can never make things better. 40 degrees Celsius, is no joke my friend. I miss being part of a nation that got crushed every day and yet picked itself up overnight to salute another dawn, with the same fearless attitude as ever. I miss the innocent Pakistani ability to suddenly burst into merriment over just the slightest of delights. There is perfection in every imperfection. But there’s one thing no one can take away from me. My strength to trace back into my memory, and replay the echo of every voice, every footstep I hide with me. No one can take away that faint scent of the scorching hot summer I ache to feel just one more time. I find comfort in the familiar ambiance of a blackout, silence being it’s best friend. I would often go out to the rooftop, and crickets would cheer with every step I took. Fireflies would ignite the seemingly endless fields; stars would twinkle in the reflection of my eyes, and a not so silky breeze would attempt to amuse my hair. At that moment, I remember thinking there is beauty in everything. You just have to look carefully.