There will be disagreements as there always have been. She sent me off and expected me to appreciate home more when I came back, and I disappointed her on that count. Our definitions of appreciation are different, and by that I mean polar opposites. Coming back feels good, this place is in my blood- I don't want to complain about breathing in the hot, polluted air, because at least it's familiar, nor about the constant power cuts. I don't know what I try to achieve when I take Karachi in, sights, sounds, smells and all. Perhaps it's an attempt to reclaim this place and make sense of it. I don't have words to describe what home is, but this is the closest I've come to feeling it. When I'm asked what Karachi is like, I say "You'd have to see it, it's wonderful.", but it occurs to me as an afterthought that someone else will not see what I do. But I digress.
We squabble everyday, her and I. I'm still learning how to dismiss these things as a minor, temporary inconvenience one must face when the person in question is one you owe your entire existence to, once you're not entirely dependent on them for survival.Perhaps it's that faraway itch in my head to be able to exist as I am, but I wish I could ask her to accept me just as. There is nothing more difficult than a situation where there is no one to blame, and my desire for approval is probably outlandish.
But Mother, this is not Western imperialism. This is just me.
Nevertheless, much love.