Sunday, December 16, 2007

Lamentations of a socially eroding Pakistani

There is something seriously wrong with the way our social lives are structured today. I intend here to talk just about blood relationships and what I perceive has happened to them over the last few years. I don't have the benefit of a cross-generational perspective, I haven't read anything on the subject and I haven't even thought about other families in Pakistan or abroad to ascertain if the trends observed or felt in my own khandan- funny there's no word in English to capture the term: community, kith and kin, family, community; none captures the scope and nuance of the Urdu word- hold true for others.

All these disclaimers are meant to stress my own responsibility for what has happened and to take away the relish of drawing room intellectualism. Something's dead rotten here and we ain't doin' nothin'. Absolutely nothing. Like an undiagnosed cancer, our sickness is eating us up from within while we imagine ourselves to be doing well.The symptoms are there, and even the signs for those who bother to read them. Let me kick off with some niceties.

Over the 80s- when I was old enough to observe what was going around- most of close family relatives seemed to keep a decently modest lifestyle. They may or may not have had a car and those who did maintained old models. An upcountry holiday trip with the family was an indulgence affordable once in several years. Recreation meant a picnic usually on the beach but again it was something rarer than blue moons. Eid dinners used to be sumptuous but not elaborate. Parents generally didn't compromise on getting "good education" (meaning nothing more than expensive and established private schools) for their kids but other than that generally there was little financial talent for restaurant- catered birthday parties or big electronic console toys or myriads of personal accessories. I distinctly recall that during the early to mid 80s, I associated affluence with shampoo bottles on the bathroom rack, branded jam bottles on the breakfast table and tissue paper boxes in the drawing room.

There were relatives- not so distant at all- who bought powdered milk by the kilo (it was considered cheaper than fresh milk), haggled with the tailor over stitching charges on Eid clothes and chose to travel by bus because it was cheap.

Now of course being connected and mobile have become affordable necessities for everyone in the family. Hardly any family is without a car. Parties or dinners at home are frequent, and much more elaborate. Eating out which was once an exceptional treat is now a routine event. Recreational trips and picnics are organized with religious regularity. Children are seen to deserve and get a whole lot more than just "good education" (whose quality is determined on the market principle). Wardrobe shopping is no longer just an Eid dream, even though in brands, designs and styles it costs a whole lot more now than it did. And each family member fritters away in phone bills, electronic gizmos, body sprays and eatouts more than an entire family would spend in the same period 10 or 15 years ago.

I don't wish to bring up the hard indices- property and other assets- that people now own. The truth is that after absorbing inflation, the net disposable income of most middle class relatives has shot up- in some cases by orders of magnitude. Good for them!

But there is something else too that has happened over the years. Children have grown up into a world of expanding egospheres. Let me fire a few questions to warm up the discussion. What is the quality of relationships today between cousins- first only, forget second or third degree cousins? What do our time-logs speak about our interests? What are the founts of our fulfillment, the horizons of our private dreams? What is the stuff of our talk today with family members, colleagues and friends? What is the location of our inner centre of gravity? What are the tasks we choose not to perform between the time we silence the morning alarm and the time we hit the bed again?

In 1990, calls made to the US used to cost Rs 125/min from Pakistan. And PTCL was the only means to connect with distantly located relatives. Today it costs Rs 1.50/ min which allowing for inflation is at least 500 times cheaper. A letter posted from Pakistan would cost something like Rs 20 in those days and reach the US addressee in21 days. And boy did we send Eid cards abroad & within the country?

Today it takes click-time to get the message through. And yet for all the Messengers, Short Messaging Services, Internet telephones (all of them free) as well as the cheap calling cards, people on either side opt to remain out of touch. Perhaps our idea of staying in touch was flawed in the first place.

Water not relationships—meaning don't meet, talk or call—and they begin to wither. That is happening all around. Worse, individual efforts to feed relationships either for old time's sake, moral compulsions or downright socializing are leading to the same end. "Being in touch" has accrued a painful mask of meaning. It means barren verbal or physical encounters, mostly without an investment of authentic concern for the other. The rules of politeness overrule the possibility of any confrontational debate or conversation. If in the flow of exchange, a controversy crops up, it is abandoned after a few exchanges in the interest of keeping up formal solidarity. For those who are in touch , the time "in touch" runs out chattering about job or politics, music or sports, shopping or TV. There is no graduation to serious, meaningful and intense conversation. Initial pleasantries almost never yield to a sustained discussion about anything. The inner emptiness of such social encounters (note that just as Urdu lacks a word for meetings, English struggles in translating the Urdu mulaqat) also explains why so often younger people slink away from the drawing room to spaces that are coherent and engaging i.e. the world of computer games or in some cases never emerge out of their bedrooms for as long as the guests are there. They are dubbed as shy or asocial by the parents. Possible, but I would like to fancy the complementary possibility that in such situations children are often reacting to past experiences of stilted and formal interview-like introductions to the guests. People in the US remain out of touch with their relatives in Pakistan?

Why are there fewer mails exchanged and fewer phone calls made than before? Asked individually, everyone complains of time famine.

No comments: