A tale of two cities, both called home

Peshawar's clock tower was built in 1900 by a Hindu resident as a gift to the British government in India. S. AMJAD HUSSAIN Enlarge

A few weeks ago, as I was winding down my annual visit to the city of my birth in northwest Pakistan, I felt the usual tug that I feel when I leave Peshawar to return to Toledo.

Peshawar and Toledo are different worlds. Toledo is my adopted home, the place where I dropped anchor and established new roots almost 50 years ago.

I raised my family and lived an enriching and rewarding life here. But in Peshawar, I have roots that run deeper than the Hindu Kush mountains are high.

It is the fate of first-generation immigrants to any country to live simultaneously in two worlds. It is often hard to balance the past and the present, and merge them in seamless continuity into an intricate, meaningful, and vivid tapestry.

I long to return to Peshawar’s comforting embrace, but it is not the same city that I left behind in 1964. Deep, ugly scars from a 30-year war across the border in Afghanistan have had a palpable and in places visible effect. Beautiful commercial towers, chic buildings, and busy streets cannot hide the deep inner uncertainty of the place.

When I am in Peshawar, I look for familiar landmarks. Some of them are still there, but they look strange and out of place in a city that has lost touch with its history.

There is a clock tower in the once-walled old city. It was built in 1900 by Lala Balmukand, a Hindu resident of Peshawar, as a gift to the British Indian government.

Despite a gaudy coat of purple paint over the original white, the tower still majestically overlooks the confluence of two bazaars. Many people who pass beneath it don’t know who built the tower or why, and would not care if they were told. Ignorance of the city’s rich past and its important benefactors accents everyday life in the city.

In 1947, at the time of the partition of the Indian subcontinent into a predominantly Muslim Pakistan and a majority Hindu India, most of Peshawar’s Hindus and Sikhs fled to India. Since that time, the city’s transformation has left some residents narrow-minded and intolerant.

When I talk to such people, I am reminded of Homer’s description in The Iliad of the mythical beast called the Chimera. It was, he said, “a thing of immortal make, not human, lion-fronted and snake behind, a goat in the middle and snorting out the breath of a terrible flame of bright fire.”

Mercifully, these people are not numerous. There still are many people in the city who place a high premium on humanity, just as their forefathers did when they created an environment in which people of all religions and political stripes lived amicably and in peace.

Toledo is my other home. Half a century ago, as a young man with big dreams and few means, I was awed and confused by the razzle-dazzle and glitter of the strange new world that every newcomer to these shores encounters.

But with each passing day, the glitter receded and the true face of America emerged. That face still charms and fascinates me.

America has been called a land of plenty. But “plenty” does not refer to grocery store shelves that bulge with 20 brands of toilet paper and seemingly endless rows of soft drinks. To equate America with such consumerism is to demean it.

The tendency of many immigrants is to spin a cocoon of isolation and live a comfortable life surrounded by soothing mementos of the past. But over the past five decades, I have made a conscious effort to be part of the public square and to participate in its conversations.

Most people who come to America from far-off shores bring rich histories and diverse cultural and religious traditions. It is natural to share those with others, and to learn from the cultures and traditions of others. As a country of immigrants, the United States is uniquely suited for such a dialogue.

I am extremely fortunate to have two places to call home. Peshawar and Toledo have added much to my life and made me a citizen of the world.

Dr. S. Amjad Hussain is a retired Toledo surgeon whose column appears every other week in The Blade.

Contact him at: aghaji@bex.net