NEW YORK — I came here to attend a private literary gathering and to read from my books. During my stay, I met some fascinating people.

My host was Dr. Tasnim Raza, a cardiac surgeon at Columbia Presbyterian Medical Center in New York City. He is a musician, a painter, and a writer who has deep interest in Urdu and English literature. We share a passion for the history of medicine.

His sister, Azra Raza, a professor of medicine at the same institution, is a world authority on myelodysplastic diseases. These are blood diseases that in some cases turn into leukemia. She is working at the genetic level to understand the mystery of leukemia, as well as the erratic behavior of other cancers.

Like her brother, she is well versed in music and literature. She has co-authored a book on 19th century Urdu and Persian poetry.

Their sister Atiya Khan and her husband, Tariq, came from the Washington area for the evening. Atiya, a physician, is chairman of the Human Development Foundation, which invests in trying to improve the lives of poor people in rural Pakistan.

Azra Raza had invited about 40 guests to her Manhattan apartment for dinner and a literary sitting. I met Dr. Richard Adler and his wife, Ree.

Dr. Adler has been a pioneering thoracic surgeon in Buffalo. Though I had known of his work and his reputation, I had not met him. At age 92, Dr. Adler is still active and engaging.

The oncologist Dr. Kanti Saroop Rai is widely known for his work and expertise in blood cancers. His 1975 paper on predicting the outcome of chronic lymphocytic leukemia is still used as a guide to treat the disease.

A young Sitar maestro, Ikhlaq Hussain (no relation), was there with his Hungarian wife. Mr. Hussain has performed solo, as well as with guitarists to create enchanting fusion music.

I read short essays in Urdu and English. My nostalgic musings about a childhood home drew many comments.

In a room full of immigrants, the people had left behind parts of themselves when they came to America. The pervasive sense of loss stays in the subconscious. Even the slightest reminder of the homeland brings forth a flood of memories.

We had come from different places and different backgrounds, but our stories were similar. We recalled the comforting embrace of nondescript homes and loving families we had left behind in a faraway land.

An Urdu essay about the joy of living with limited means when you are surrounded by abundance brought many comments. We all had stories about scrapping for a book, a delicacy, or a garment. It was a struggle, but extremely satisfying once we were able to prevail.

There was conversation about immigrant experiences and our pasts. No one was ready to trade the present for the past. But we all felt the pull of our pasts, just as novelist William Faulkner had said: “How often have I lain beneath rain on a strange roof, thinking of home.”

That evening, we all were under a strange roof.

Dr. S. Amjad Hussain is a retired Toledo surgeon whose column appears every other week in The Blade. Contact him at:aghaji@bex.net

First Published March 30, 2015, 4:00 a.m.