When he talks about home, he pauses. “I have a home,” he says carefully and thoughtfully. Then he shakes his head slightly. “But I don’t feel like it’s MY home.” For most of his life, the idea of belonging has always been just out of reach.
He grew up in Karachi, Pakistan, in a neighbourhood called Lyari. It a place many people associate with gangs and violence. this is “Because it’s dangerous” he tell me. His parents tried to shield him from that environment as much as they could. Their goal was to give them everything he would need to make his own choices; Education. Hoping that school might offer a different path.
But school was rarely safe for him.
Other boys noticed he was different. Sometimes it was the way he spoke. Then, at other times, it was the way he carried himself. They always called him names and occasionally they would beat him so that he would come home bruised and shaken.
“My mother would say, ‘Why don’t you fight back?’” he remembers. “But I didn’t know how to fight anyone.”
Even inside the family, things were complicated. His parents were deeply religious, and the expectations around masculinity and obedience were strict. At the same time, the family was dealing with something else entirely:
Politics.
His father was involved in political activism related to Baloch rights in Pakistan. In 2007, he was arrested and imprisoned by state authorities. The family feared the worst and nearly lost hope all together when the friend (arrested with his father) was killed in prison days before his dad was released.
No one knew why this happened. No one did. “It just did make sense” he tell me. But this lack of understand mixed with political activity meant that the pressure and danger surrounding the family never fully disappeared.
Then years later, another threat emerged. this time it was directed toward his son. The details are painful to recall, but the message was clear: his life could be at risk. So in 2014, his father made a decision. They would leave Pakistan and move to Turkey.
It was the beginning of exile.
Learning to Survive in a New Country
Turkey became home, at least on paper. He learned Turkish quickly, eventually speaking it almost like a native. He built friendships, worked when he could, and tried to create some stability But life there remained uncertain. Without secure legal status, long-term opportunities were limited. And being openly gay was not easy. “I felt like I had to hide everything,” he says Over time, it became clear that Turkey was not where he could build a future. The possibility of living freely and without fear seemed impossible.
So he made another decision He would try to reach Europe.
The Journey Across Borders
The journey was long and dangerous and costly.
He attempted the crossing several times before finally succeeding. Smugglers organised parts of the trip. Other sections he walked alone, moving through forests and mountains to avoid border patrols. He doest tell me his exact route but does names places and towns so that I can connect the dots. In the Balkans he say, one of the people traveling with him suddenly disappeared. The problem was they were travelling together and with that disappearance most of the money he had gone as well.
He remembers standing in a bus station in Croatia with almost nothing. “I had maybe twenty euros left,” he says. Still, turning back wasn’t an option. he kept going, talking like he was on a National Geographic Expedition. For his outlook on life really does enable him to see the light at the end of the tunnel (even in the darkest and windiest of tunnels)
One day he walked for nearly twelve hours through mountains and dense forest trying to reach the Italian border before nightfall. His legs were scratched by branches and sharp pine needles. His clothes were dirty and torn.
Above him, at one point, a helicopter circled.
“I thought they would arrest me,” he says quietly. “But they didn’t.” they followed from above and he kept walking.
When he finally reached Italy, he was exhausted and injured. For two weeks he stayed with someone who his family. knew and they helped him recover. Mostly he rested and ate chocolate. (something he says he often does when he feels overwhelmed.)
“It was the end of the journey,” he says. “But also the beginning of something else.”
An Unexpected Destination
Originally, he planned to go to Germany, where his former partner had settled. But that plan fell apart Instead, almost impulsively, he chose a different destination. The Netherlands. He laughs when explaining why.
“When I was a kid, I had a toy phone with a windmill inside it,” he says. “Whenever I think about the Netherlands, I remember that.”
But it wasn’t just the memory. He had also heard that the Netherlands respected LGBTQ+ rights. That mattered. “I didn’t come for money,” he explains. “I came for my rights.”
Today he has been in the Netherlands for more than two and a half years. His asylum case is still ongoing. Like many people in the system, he lives with uncertainty about what will happen next. But despite everything he has experienced; violence, displacement, betrayal along the way. His outlook remains remarkably calm.
“What comes will come,” he says. “I struggled a lot already. Nothing can hurt me the same way now.”
What he wants is simple: The freedom to live openly. I want the chance to work he says before then explaining that he wants a place where he can finally feel at home. And if that happens, he hopes to give something back. Helping others has always mattered to him. “Helping someone,” he says, smiling softly, “that is my religion.” For now, he waits. Not for a perfect life. Just for the right to live his own.
