Living abroad made me love Bangladesh more than I ever did living in it

I have been in Canada for four years now. I have a decent job, clean air, roads that make sense, and a government that mostly works. By every objective measure, life here is easier. And yet. I miss the chaos of Dhaka in a way I cannot explain to anyone here. I miss the sound of the azan at dawn mixing with the call of the vegetable seller in the street. I miss my mother pressing food onto my plate before I have finished what I have. I miss arguing with a CNG driver about the fare and somehow both of us ending up laughing. I miss iftar at my grandmother's house where thirty people are crammed into a small room and it is the most comfortable I have ever felt. Bangladesh is loud and messy and exhausting and deeply flawed. But it is also the most alive place I have ever been. People here feel things fully — grief, joy, anger, love — nothing is muted. I think you have to leave a place to really see it. I left Bangladesh to find a better life. I found it. But I also found out what I had left behind.