THE FIRST GENERATION

My family both close by and abroad is full of artists at their core - be it musicians, designers, painters, or writers - the creativity I so often tap into is in my blood. I listened to my aunt tell stories of designing the clothes for the weddings of her siblings, learnt from my uncle the differences of the Eastern and Western musical scales, and relished in the stories of writing shared by my mother and her father. To appreciate and admire with an open mind is a gift I feel inclined to share though it seems so obvious now.

Observing the stories of those from my heritage; learning of their craft, their struggles, and their triumphs has chartered me onto a quest for further knowledge.

In the aftermath of the partition of India, my paternal grandfather migrated to Pakistan with only his older brother, they constructed a new life that has manifested into the home I now sit in. My maternal family’s building housed nearly her entire extension while she grew up, the ups and the downs, the pitfalls and the peaks, were witnessed collectively and though not at all without their unique struggles - the legacy of perseverance, community, and creation lie in the wake of their offsprings now living abroad. My heart is filled with admiration and my mind with a want to know more, for that is the full circle of the first generation immigrant paradox.