FOR many middle class Bangladeshi families, migrating to the West llargely the US. Canada and Australia! has become an imperative the no longer obscure object of everyone s desire It sometimes seems as if all the hopes aspirations and yearnings of middle class urban Bangladesh centers around the process of migration Myths abound about how to get the coveted green rard the landed immigration permit the ^.passage to the promised land

While it is easy to understand why the poor would want to migrate 1 am somewhat more intrigued by the phenomenon of middle class individuals with fairly stable jobs giving it all up to live in a foreign land What propels them? Why this urgency to give up roots, family and friends?

On a recent trip back from Boston, while waiting in Amsterdam airport. I struck up a conversation with some one who had Just taken the momentous desire to migrate to Canada. He had a relatively stable job as an engineer in Bangladesh, and yet he was going to give it all up to try his hand al something new in a country about which he had only the vaguest notions He had no firm r ommftment of a job and furthermore had no relatives or friends in the area He had heard that there

might be work for someone with his qualifications. On this tenuous thread of expec tation. he was Journeying thousands of miles to try his luck I was struck by this ex pression of daring. Why was he going, this seemingly conventional middle class man?

Superficially he said, he was going in search of Im proved economic opportuni ties a better material life When 1 pointed out to him thai C anada was barely recov ering from one of Its worst recessions, and that Jobs were hard to find and more importanily hard to keep he said he didn l care about himself, he would make do somehow doing odd jobs or whatever but his children would have a future In his view in Bangladesh there was no physical or mental security crime was rising and the educational system was paralyzed He was tired of politics. Ured of the inflam matory rhetoric the failed promises He wanted stabil ity. predictability a future for his children

Children seem to figure in all middle class immigrant conversations. They exist not so much as individuals but as icons they provide the ra tionale for migration, the consolation for the wrench ing emotional trauma associ ated with uprooting oneself from one s native land and family They are what makes the sacrifice the inevitable

sense of personal alienation worthwhile In the mythology of migration, the children will have a better material future and yet somehow not acquire any of the cultural baggage of their adopted land There will be no conflict of identities no soul searching In an endless cy de of renewal the children will marry other Bangladeshis and continue confident in their own cultural heritage As one parent put it. it is as

if we are still in Bangladesh except that there are many more economic opportuni Ues a better life lor our chil dren

This is the stuff of innu merabie conversations among middle class professional Bangladeshi immigrants scat tered all over the west living in hermetically sealed self created worlds where your only interaction with the world of your adopted coun try comes out of necessity al work In the weekends you can retreat into a more sur real world. a home away from home where just for a little

tfme you can pretend that you really haven't left. You can eat maach . bhat . bhorta complement the hostess on her culinary capabilities, tell her that it is just like home . She replies somewhat coyly that one can l get good ruy here and that the chicken is too tough, and the vegetables are like plastic Everybody smiles tn agreement Just for a moment, all of those pre sent are transported back to an earlier time, in another

world, where the fish was fresh the chicken tender and the vegetables tasted like they should just picked from the ground This reverie is rudely Interrupted by the ca cophony of heavy metal rock music — if one can c all it that. The host shouts out to his teenage son saleem. turn that stereo down He apoio gizes to those around him. (the 40 something crowd with teenage children of their own) i cant under stand their taste In music. It sounds like random noise to me Everyone commiserates, the age old conflict of gener

ations. teenage rebellion, ex acerbated here by a clash of cultures separated both by time and geography

Dir < onvcrsation turns to |k4iIks not ol their adopted country but tlie one they have left behind Everyone has an opinion a point of view ex pressed vociferously The passion here is almost tangl ble It is as il for those who are thousands of miles away no longer bearing the burden of life in Bangladesh, these passionate arguments about politics reaffirms some deep seated yearning to belong Snippets of conversation float tn the or - ihe country is going to the dogs there is no security anymore, my brother In law s cousin, (you know the one who lives in the south Bronx) just re turned from Dhaka and said that it wasn t safe to go out at night Dhaka Is primitive, you r an t get fresh orange Juice and my neema Just won't drink anything else

Now it is time for the obligatory post dinner lalsha The harmonium Is brought out. there is a special treat tonight the noted ra bindra shangeet singer, the one who Ilves in inn arbor, michlgan is going to sing, all the old lavorites There Is a bum ol anticipation The liv mg room is cleared, the fur niture Is removed, the guests seal themselves on the car pet Oh! where are the chll

dren. saleem. neema. najma. ( babu. come down this in- I slant, shut off that stereo, | your aunty meeta Is going to be singing What do you । mean you would rather listen io iron maiden ? This Is your culture your heritage I don’t want to hear any excuses A group of sullen faced youngsters joins their parents For I tie next two to three hours the parents are lost In the nostalgia of their youth, in the remembrances of a world they left behind. The children well the lighting is subdued, but at times If you watch carefully you can see the boredom, the music un familiar the words barely comprehensible for those who were born and brought up in New York. Toronto. Sydney Los Angeles — their presence here a concession to parental authority Before you know It. Its time to go. inanv have to drive over an । hour, for afterall tomorrow Is a working day where the real world will intrude, the chll ' dren have to go to school, the parents to work One last song bhabl By unanimous consent the refrain of purano shay diner katha rings out.

Flight 864. from Amsterdam to Dhaka is ready lor boarding All passengers are requested to come to the gate My flight has been an flounced I have to leave I say good bye to my new-found friend, and wish him luck on his Journey to Canada