Sad story but true. I went abroad to work, just to find my self alone and hurting. As I have been brought up in Pakistan, Pakistani culture is in my roots. The foreign land could not do much, did not fascinate me. What really took me by surprise was that the people in the so called land of opportunity would work hard, earn honest money and live their lives. Bad sheep are every where so I did meet some thugs.

I missed the smell of my country, I missed the feel, the color, the noise and mostly the sound of azan (call for prayer) that I had been listening when I had opened my eyes, 5 times a day, every day for 43 odd years of my life, suddenly that part was missing. Though I am not a hard core religious Muslim but I really missed my daily call for prayers.

I came back with a renewed energy to work in my country, a place which is in my heart and sole. The moment I landed at the airport my gut feeling told me that I had made a mistake of coming back, but here I was back home, just to find out that my city of Karachi had become dirtier, crimes had multiplied and there was an unannounced unrest in the people of the city.

With lawlessness grown to its extreme, it seemed that this city had become a state for criminals. Police and the law was for protection of the criminals and police was there to extract money from common man let the crime pass away. Bomb blasts, shoot to kill and many other incidents that happened in couple of months after my arrival was enough to tell me how wrong I was.

Now, after some years, when things have grown worse, I usually think, What are we waiting for? for my right to come and handle the country and pull the people out of this misery. This though makes me laugh.