OSCILLATING BETWEEN TWO WORLDS

After a prolonged stay in Dhaka, I am set to return "home." Some readers may ask: "Where is home for you?" It's a pertinent question and part of my ambivalent existence between my motherland, Bangladesh, and my adopted country, the United States. When I take the flight from the US to Dhaka, I am filled with the joy that one experiences when coming back to one's nest at the end of a long day. Surprisingly, the thought of travelling back to my "other" home in McLean, Virginia, also generates a feeling of happiness. I long for the familiar sound of the neighbourhood kids playing in the nearby park, the solitary walks and coffee interludes with friends.

I must admit that both journeys generate a sense of apprehension. Coming eastward, after months of  absence, I wonder if things will be the same  – the intimate afternoon teas, musical evenings and impromptu dinners. Will I have problems phasing in? When travelling back to the United States, I am apprehensive about being disconnected with my surroundings.

It's interesting that we carry an image of home in our minds. An image formulated through years of experience and coloured by nostalgia. For example, Bangladesh will always be the home where I grew up singing Tagore melodies, dreaming of romance in Uttam-Suchitra style and fighting for the country's freedom. Not where religious extremists hack liberal bloggers in public and "perverts" accuse 13-year olds of stealing and beat them to death. In a similar vein, the America that I emigrated to two decades ago was the country that allowed even the ordinary to become extraordinary, through sheer talent and perseverance. As I prepare for my journey back, I am disturbed by the thought of a young woman jailed for a minor traffic infringement and pushed into committing suicide and African Americans gunned down by white men because they look suspicious. True, the United States has been at the center of the race controversy for years. But it is also here that people have fought for civil rights and individual freedom. And that is the America I chose as my "home."

Unfortunately, today, violence, anger and hatred taint our lives, irrespective of the geographic location. I often wonder if this trend stems from an ideologically/religiously divided world. Or does it run deeper -- the anger spurred by the growing inequality and injustice that people are subjected to. But these anomalies have always existed. Why are they causing greater angst now? One explanation could be the communication explosion. Just as the social and mainstream media have opened up vistas of knowledge, they have also given us access to negative information that we have little time to absorb and assimilate. We are constantly bombarded with bad news and are encouraged to make quick judgments without processing layers of information. Hence, it becomes easier to commit and accept brutal acts with more equanimity and nonchalance. This may be a black and white interpretation of a complex problem, but it could be one of the many variables in the equation of the unrest we experience around us.

For ordinary people like us, the larger question is: how does one reconcile to a world where people are dehumanised because they are poor or they have a different skin color? How does one cope with a world where others are not allowed to breathe because they have disparate beliefs -- where hate and apathy often eclipse love and tolerance? As I shuttle between two homes, I wonder why things have changed so much. Or were they always the same and I was naïve and refused to see the darker side? I suffer because the moral narrative that I had believed to be true has eroded. The reference point of my values has shifted to a universe dominated by a culture of "anything goes." Sometimes I feel like a misfit – whether in Bangladesh or in the United States. But then, once in a while I come across that rare person fighting for the garment workers maimed in Rana Plaza, or protesting against the injustices against blacks in Texas and hope is restored. I find comfort in the thought that just as there are those blinded by prejudice, greed and lust, there are also a few who are striving to amend things that have gone askew.

Perhaps the dislocation I feel is an integral part of adjusting to the reality of a globalised, changing world. A world where Sandra Bland's suicide in a Texas jail hits us as hard as Rajon's desperate cries for survival in the suburbs of Sylhet. The truth is that we don't have to travel out of our hometown to experience change since we are "migrants through time." We often feel alien in our familiar surroundings because in life things are never the same as they used to be. Thus "home" is what we carry with us in our hearts wherever we may be!

The writer is a renowned Rabindra Sangeet exponent and a former employee of the World Bank.

E-mail: shiftingimages@gmail.com