Dreams are so exciting, inspiring, and profound that it can be fun and easy to bask in the imagined future. However, the more we meditate on a fantasy, the more it takes hold of our minds. And, the greater the attachment to the vision, the greater the disappointment when plans go awry.
In high school, I would often exclaim “The Dream is Alive!” after something exciting took place. It was my catchphrase. I plastered “The Dream is Alive!” on my social media, blazoned it as my senior quote, and shouted it at the end of my graduation speech.
[Had to drop the Dreams Speech, but also LOL’ing at how extra I am XD. This was also the first bilingual programming at an RHS graduation, shocking considering Spanish speakers composed almost a third of the student body!]
Dreams were very important to me. They were my compass and my fuel, allowing me to be wildly ambitious and motivating me to push myself. This will to dream came from my dad, whom I call Abbu.
Abbu’s always imagining these wild, crazy dreams, getting super excited at just the ideas of them. Growing up around that radical imagination, I too, fell in love with floating around visions of better futures. However, as the years went by and I moved further away from home, “The Dream is Alive” became less and less my motto. And accordingly, the world seemed a little less magical.
A month and a half ago, though, I made a choice to return to this mindset.
I quit my first full-time job with no job lined up and decided that from here on out, my career would move with my dreams. This time, however, “The Dream is Alive” would have new character, replete with the wisdom of the past few years. In this reload of “The Dream is Alive”, I thought to re-examine one of the first inspirational dream stories that I heard as a child - my father’s ‘American Dream’.
Abbu’s Dream
In 1980, Abbu had just graduated from his local college in Sylhet, Bangladesh with degrees in biology and chemistry. But at 23 years old, instead of being filled with ambition and hope, Abbu felt frustrated and lost. Wanting to get involved in the health sector, he could not convince employers that he was qualified for a legitimate position. On top of that, he was shunned from junior roles because he had siblings in the UK, indicating a possibility that he would abandon Bangladesh.
Unsure about his future, Abbu felt directionless. He decided to support his father and grow the family garment business. And grow, it did. My grandfather’s shop became one of the most prominent and well-known businesses in the larger Sylheti region, creating local fame for my dad and grandfather. But, more importantly for Abbu, this experience helped him discover new truths about himself: he loved entrepreneurship, he was first and foremost a giver, and he excelled at organizing people together.
After this experience with my grandpa, Abbu, now 26, had a new dream, one that was truly his and revolved around his skills and passion. One that he was determined to make a reality. He resolved to migrate to the U.S., build capital, return to Bangladesh to start a small factory, and then use the proceeds to finance his ultimate goal of serving and supporting his village and region.
[Photo of Abbu in his mid-20s]
The Dream Evolves
The first leg of my dad’s vision went as planned. Abbu moved to the U.S. on a visit visa and worked like a machine to earn that money. His life was tough. Not only was he undocumented and working multiple odd jobs, he stayed in a two-bedroom apartment in the Bronx with four other immigrants, got mugged three times, and almost never spent money on himself. Abbu, however, says that these challenges felt like afterthoughts because of the sheer commitment to his dream.
Until one day, the dream changed. After almost 10 years in the U.S., my dad, the ultimate finesser, finagled a Green Card and returned to Bangladesh. This was the trip where he met and married my mom, but it was also the trip where he began to see Bangladesh with new eyes. The nation’s problems he once sought to rectify had only intensified with the young country descending deeper into violence and corruption. The dreams of his youth suddenly clashed against a newly emerging dream: to provide a safe home for his future family.
(Abbu in his early 30s chilling with some sassy-lookin' friends by the White House)
When I was younger, my dad would stop the story and tell me and my brother that our success became his new American dream, justifying the lofty expectations he placed on us while subliminally passing the torch of his goal. However, while I was interviewing my dad for this piece, I dug deeper into what actually happened after he got married and realized that his dream did not die when he returned to the States… it evolved.
Scared by the violence of Bronx in the late ‘80s and turned off by the city’s lack of greenery, the boy who grew up in the vibrant jungle of Sylhet decided to move to a more familiar climate in Atlanta. It was a completely new experience for Abbu. Where New York had dense pockets of Bangladeshi communities, Atlanta’s Bengalis numbered around 40-50 when my dad first arrived. Abbu quickly dove in. After working for a few months at one of the first-ever Indian restaurants in the metro area, Abbu decided to spend his savings and buy it, becoming a co-owner of Himalayas Fine Dining.
Before he could even get settled, though, the organizing commenced. Abbu heard about a budding community group, the Bangladeshi Association of Georgia, and went to view the election of the organization’s upcoming leadership. While socializing at this event, the membership fell in love with Abbu’s charisma and clamored for him to stand for election that night. So, in his first year in Atlanta, Abbu became an Executive Committee Member of the Bangladesh Association of Georgia. During his time in this position, Abbu organized numerous picnics that featured various cultural traditions, provided job and housing recommendations for new immigrants, and settled disputes within the community.
Bangladesh is a diverse place composed of a multitude of cultures. My paternal lineage is from Sylhet, a region I refer to as the Texas of Bangladesh because Sylhet initially wanted its own state instead of joining the infant country in 1970. Sylhetis speak a distinct language, have their own cultural practices, and exude loyalty and pride for their region.
As more Sylhetis began moving to Atlanta, a group went to Abbu and asked him to found an organization to help develop the Atlanta Sylheti community. Abbu accepted and became the Founder/President of the Jalalabad Association of Georgia. Abbu put a lot into Jalalabad. He frequently raised funds for the organization to implement the activities he did while at the Bangladesh Association of Georgia. He measured his success as an organizer, however, not through how many dollars he raised, but rather by how much he literally built the community. Abbu surmises that almost 100 people from his small village in Sylhet were able to start lives in Atlanta because of him. And, laughingly, he wryly comments that he might well be attributed to the successful migration of nearly 5000 Bangladeshis!
When Dreams Create Nightmares
During our call, I pointed out to my dad, “Look, you did do your dream! You accrued capital in America, opened a business, and supported Sylhetis! It just didn’t happen in Bangladesh!” I felt compelled to say this to him because, sadly, Abbu often reflects on his life with disappointment. My father’s despondency reveals a darker side to the romanticized euphoria of being a dreamer. He is now over a decade removed from his organizing heyday, having left the scene after increasing pressure from our family and his business. As he nears his 30th year in the restaurant world, he is crestfallen by how different his life looks from the vision he had in his 20s, blaming his lack of focus and discipline. My dad still bears difficult personal and financial challenges, which he attributes as by-products of his failure. Dreams are so exciting, inspiring, and profound that it can be fun and easy to bask in the imagined future. However, the more we meditate on a fantasy, the more it takes hold of our minds. And, the greater the attachment to the vision, the greater the disappointment when plans go awry.
I had my own encounter with this particular disappointment after high school. My oldest dream is to be a politician. I’ve had it before even really knowing what politics were. My parents say that, as a toddler, I would only finish my food if someone shouted “Bill Clinton is coming!” or if the then-president appeared on TV. I really latched onto this dream, so much so that “becoming a politician” eventually became a part of my personality and self-concept. After graduating high school, I finally felt incredibly close to that dream. By then, many of my friends’ parents were encouraging my political ambitions. I was working as a personal aide for our mayor, canvassing for Jason Carter’s gubernatorial campaign, and volunteering for various communities. “The Dream is Alive,” I surely thought, “it’s all about to begin soon!”
But, as I entered college, and started rebuilding in this entirely new context, the dream swerved. Entering politics suddenly had different requisites. Instead of building relationships, channeling inspirational stories, and service, becoming a politician transformed into this machination of pledging loyalty to the “right people”, playing it safe for the future, acting dispassionately, and knowing more (or at least pretending to do so) than your colleagues. Politics transformed into a game in my eyes, but I identified too strongly with my dream at this point. I vowed to do it all.
I struggled. I did my best at what was expected, but those requisites clashed strongly with my personality and values. I pushed on, convincing myself that I would just need to evolve to meet these new demands. Growth mindset, right? But, I just couldn’t do it.
The harder I tried to embody this new conception of a politician, the unhappier I became. In hindsight, I recognize there was a values conflict between my authentic self and the traditional political career path. But, at the time, I saw it as a weakness of myself, latching on to a comment made by my thesis advisor while we wielded my thesis to connect with gatekeepers of the South’s GOP: “the only thing stopping you from greatness, Shadman, is yourself.”
As graduation soon loomed near, I realized that my political ambitions starkly contrasted the optimism and certainty I felt at the end of high school. Just like my father at this age, I felt directionless. Feeling burnt out and defeated, I decided to take a break from this ancient dream and try something else. Itching to grow and build something after a predominantly service and research-oriented four years, I turned to business by joining Venture for America, the hip fellowship geared to shaping value-driven entrepreneurs.
My first few months in the VFA world were great. I engaged with my knack for innovation and synthesis, which were traits of myself that had been stifled in the stodgy bureaucracy of policy. But, as I started work at the education technology startup I joined through the fellowship, Practice, I kept noticing my mind gravitating towards my old flames like, human connectivity, local nonprofits, or storytelling. Granted, my experience with the startup was not what had been initially advertised: Practice got acquired before I arrived and I was pushed into an entirely new role two months after joining. Regardless, when I saw AOC’s documentary Knock the House Down in May and the amazing work done by the candidates in this film, I knew I was doing something very wrong.
[If you haven’t seen this doc, watch it. This is dreams. This is service. This is inspiration.]
So, I jumped into side-projects that centered around my passions. I started writing, seeking to develop my storytelling ability. And, I joined circles that maintained the same goals and values. Most importantly, though, like Abbu, I learned powerful truths about myself: I excel in building relationships, I relish creating things, and I love to give. Once these truths became clear, I realized that my full-time job had become a distraction from the work I really wanted to do, so, I quit.
Making the Dream Alive Today
But what about dreams? When I gave my 3 weeks notice, I had no plan besides working on personal projects and networking. Accustomed to operating towards a clear vision, I felt unsteady in the last few days of my job, as the ambiguity of this journey encroached.
But, in those last days, too, I reflected more intently on the stories of inspirations like, The Buddha, AOC, Travis Scott, Barack Obama, and my father. All of these individuals had their “Lost Years”, where they pivoted from a structured path that felt wrong and pursued their dream in the present. AOC challenged a long-time incumbent because she believed NY-14 needed a more representative official, not because she thought her approach would win. Travis Scott dropped out of college and spent his tuition money on ice and production equipment because he was ready to live the rapper/rockstar lifestyle, not because he thought it would lead to meetings with T.I. and Kanye. Abbu built the Atlanta Bangladeshi community because he sought to create a home for himself and others, not because it fit into any sort of plan.
I guess the biggest development in my “The Dream is Alive” philosophy is that the day-to-day is more meaningful than the final product itself. Not that the later stages of the dream aren’t amazing; I’m sure Travis Scott would rate meeting Kanye West as a top life moment. However, because life is full of twists and a dream is the manifestation of your current passions and interests, why not distill a dream into its essential elements and make it happen today?
This seems like pretty conventional wisdom, but I think the whole “loving the process, not just the goal” is a lesson that comes from experience. It took both reaching and failing to reach awesome dreams to understand that a goal will not emerge the way I expect, and if it does, the realized dream would not erase all discontent. Moving away from regimented dream-planning has strangely given me more peace in the present. The more I focus on right now, the more I realize all the gifts I already have. That gratefulness gives me the courage and security to take the risks to do something new, like plunging into a passion.
My courage has also been bolstered by faith, two things that I think often go hand in hand. I’ve got this weird gut feeling now that as long as I follow my heart and focus on my strengths, everything will all work out. I’m trusting the universe and whatever path I’m on to keep me growing and learning. I know it’s clichéd, but the confidence this mindset empowers within me is real. I was scared when I quit my job; I walked away from a good paycheck, a promotion, and a lot of benefits. But in these last two months of trying to make my dream a reality right now, I’ve begun working with The Philadelphia Citizen, Philadelphia’s Rail Park, and Interfaith Philadelphia, attempting to grow Philadelphia through missions I deeply believe in. I’ve joined a group of Young Community Innovators, facilitated by the Sacred Design Lab and First Round. And, I’ve found a bunch of great partners to continue building my side-projects! I have no idea what’s next or to what all of this coalescing. But, I do think - The Dream is Alive!