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                        <description>The Express Tribune keeps you up to date with all the latest happenings from Pakistan and across the world!</description>
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			<title>Pakistan’s quiet tech turning point</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2578667/pakistans-quiet-tech-turning-point</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2578667/pakistans-quiet-tech-turning-point#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sat, 22 Nov 25 20:32:54 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Nabil Tahir]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[World]]></category><category><![CDATA[Technology]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
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				<![CDATA[Google’s first Chromebook assembly line gives Pakistan a chance to shift from tech consumer to tech builder]]>
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				<![CDATA[Pakistan enters each new economic year with the same uneasy mix of hope and exhaustion. Inflation continues to unsettle households, foreign reserves rise and fall without warning, and policymakers describe recovery in terms that feel more like survival than growth. In offices across Karachi and Lahore, young engineers look for jobs that are not always there, while factories in Faisalabad run below capacity. The country is still trying to find its footing after years of volatility, yet trying just as hard not to fall behind in a world moving at a faster digital pace.

On one side, Pakistan&rsquo;s IT sector has become a rare source of optimism. Freelancers have quietly placed the country among the world&rsquo;s top remote-work hubs. Software exports have grown, crossing three billion dollars a year. Startups, though slowed by funding shortages, have created pockets of innovation in logistics, fintech and commerce. And on the other side, the country remains almost entirely dependent on imported hardware. Laptops, desktops, tablets, servers, even school computer-lab machines continue to arrive from abroad at costs the economy struggles to absorb.

Meanwhile, foreign technology companies have entered Pakistani manufacturing only cautiously. Mobile phone giants like Samsung, Xiaomi, Tecno, Vivo and Infinix have set up assembly plants. Appliance makers like Haier and Dawlance have been here for years. More than 25 smartphone manufacturers now operate inside the country, helping localise up to 90 percent of devices sold in the domestic market. But beyond mobile phones and home appliances, Pakistan has rarely been viewed as a place where global hardware companies could anchor a long-term manufacturing presence.

This is why the arrival of a technology assembly line in any new category, especially computing, carries weight beyond the device itself. Even basic assembly can trigger a slow shift in local capability. It creates technical roles, brings in global processes, strengthens vendor networks, and gives governments a reason to prioritise industrial policy. For an economy searching for stability, these are not small changes.

It is in this landscape that Google has taken a step Pakistan has been waiting for. Earlier this month, the company announced the launch of its first Chromebook assembly line in Haripur. The devices are simple, cloud-focused laptops, assembled through a partnership involving Google, Tech Valley, Allied and NRTC. Yet the move signals something larger than a new product entering the market. It marks the arrival of a global technology player in a part of Pakistan&rsquo;s industrial ecosystem that has long remained underdeveloped.

What happens next, and how Pakistan chooses to build on this moment, may shape the country&rsquo;s digital future far more than the machines rolling off the line today.



A small start with big meaning

For years, Pakistan has spoken about moving from being a passive consumer of global technology to becoming a place where at least part of that technology is built. Those conversations have usually appeared in policy documents, investment proposals or speeches that promised industrial revival. But the gap between intention and reality has remained wide. Hardware manufacturing never moved beyond small-scale mobile phone plants, and even those arrived decades after neighbouring countries had already begun building their electronics ecosystems.

This is why the launch of a Chromebook assembly line matters, not as a grand breakthrough but as a quiet correction in a landscape that has long needed one. It is not a full manufacturing facility, and it does not signal that Pakistan has suddenly entered the global hardware race. What it does represent is a shift, a slow but meaningful move toward localising a category of technology that Pakistan has relied almost entirely on foreign markets to supply.

The assembly line in Haripur is the result of an unusual partnership between Google, Tech Valley, Allied and the National Radio and Telecommunication Corporation. Each entity brings a different strength. Tech Valley has spent the past few years working on digital programmes inside schools and communities. Allied brings distribution and operational experience. NRTC adds state-backed infrastructure, which gives the project a degree of institutional stability rarely seen in private-sector tech initiatives in Pakistan. Google anchors the effort with global standards, supply chains and its long-term presence in the country.

At the launch event, Google&rsquo;s Country Director for Pakistan and Frontier Markets, Farhan Qureshi, described the moment as an extension of the company&rsquo;s ongoing work in the country. He said the assembly line &ldquo;marks the production of our &lsquo;Made in Pakistan Chromebook&rsquo; journey,&rdquo; describing it as part of a broader commitment that has taken years to reach this point. His words framed the initiative as the beginning of something rather than a standalone experiment.

Pakistan has waited a long time for this kind of beginning. Other countries in the region, including Vietnam, Indonesia and India, used similar early-stage assembly projects as stepping stones, gradually building the confidence and capability needed for component manufacturing and export-led growth. Pakistan has not had that continuity. The Chromebook line does not close that gap overnight, but it gives the country a starting point that has been missing for far too long.

It is this starting point, modest yet significant, that makes the moment matter.



The money question

For years, Pakistan has floated between optimism and hesitation when it comes to building a hardware manufacturing base. Each announcement brings a sense of possibility, but the country&rsquo;s economic history also forces a more careful reading. The launch of a Chromebook assembly line sits somewhere in the middle of these realities. On one side, it signals movement at a time when Pakistan is desperate for new export engines. And on the other side, it raises old questions about scale, competitiveness and policy clarity.

To understand where this moment stands in a broader economic context, The Express Tribune spoke to economist Ammar Habib Khan. With a background that spans applied economics, financial systems and industrial policy analysis, his work often focuses on the conditions needed for Pakistan to build long term competitiveness.

&ldquo;Local device assembly adds value as long as it can be exported and enhance ability of the country to be export oriented,&rdquo; he said while talking to The Express Tribune. In his view, the economic benefit does not come automatically from assembling hardware inside Pakistan. It comes from whether this activity contributes toward building an export footprint. Without that, he warned that, &ldquo;In absence of a clear export strategy, imported substitution eventually leads to higher prices for consumers, destroying consumer surplus in the process.&rdquo;

The discussion around import bills is where the economic weight of this project sits. Pakistan spends heavily on electronics, and reducing this burden feels like a logical step. But Habib pointed out that import substitution, on its own, does not shift the country&rsquo;s external vulnerabilities. &ldquo;We need a clear focus on export promotion, rather than import substitution,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Import substitution does not necessarily lead to consumer surplus. An export promotion strategy enhances competitiveness and makes industry more competitive.&rdquo;

This is where the idea of scale becomes important. Qureshi from Google, mentioned that &ldquo;Alongside our manufacturing partners, we will have the capacity to produce half a million high-quality and secure Chromebooks right here in Pakistan.&rdquo;

The number is ambitious, but as Habib explained, numbers alone cannot transform an industry. Pakistan has tried assembly before, particularly in the smartphone sector, but the country never built the ecosystem around it. &ldquo;Assembly to be effective needs an ecosystem,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;In the context of mobile phones, we needed ecosystem of plastics for casing, scale for batteries and cameras, and so on. Any assembly needs development of an ecosystem at scale before it can be competitive for export.&rdquo;

Still, moments like this do create jobs and opportunities. NRTC will see direct employment, and suppliers in packaging, logistics and warehousing may find new openings. Qureshi highlighted this saying, &ldquo;The Chromebook initiative will also generate essential local manufacturing jobs and cultivate new avenues for future export opportunities for Pakistan.&rdquo; This reflect the optimism around the project, even if the larger conditions required for deep transformation remain uncertain.

The direction is clear. If Pakistan wants to become part of a regional electronics manufacturing ecosystem, it cannot rely on assembly alone. Habib put it simply. &ldquo;We need to have an ecosystem development strategy.&rdquo; That means moving quickly from assembling to manufacturing components, but with an outlook that is outward-facing. As he said, &ldquo;Assembly needs to be immediately followed by manufacturing of local components, with a clear export orientation. Instead of meeting local demand, the focus needs to be on export markets.&rdquo;

In the middle of all these economic calculations, it is easy to forget why this assembly line matters in the first place. The numbers, the export ambitions and the questions of scale tell one story, but the real test of this moment lies in the classrooms where the device is meant to end up. Pakistan&rsquo;s ability to compete, grow and build new industries eventually depends on the kind of digital foundations its children receive today. What happens inside those classrooms, and how a low-cost Chromebook can change the way students learn, carries an importance that goes beyond economics.



Chromebooks for classrooms

In many parts of the world, education technology has quietly shifted from being an add-on to becoming an essential part of how children learn. Chromebooks sit at the centre of that transformation. Their rise in classrooms across the United States, Europe and parts of Asia has less to do with branding and more to do with a simple equation: low-cost hardware, cloud-based learning and devices that demand almost no maintenance. For school systems that struggle with budgets and IT infrastructure, this combination has often made the difference between digital learning that stays on paper and digital learning that reaches real students.

In Pakistan, where most public schools still operate in a pre-digital environment, the Chromebook assembly line arrives at an interesting time. It raises a question that extends beyond technology. Can a country where children grow up using only mobile phones finally make the transition to real computer skills inside the classroom?

This question has shaped much of Tech Valley&rsquo;s work in recent years. Umar Farooq, CEO of Tech Valley Pakistan and MENA, reminded that the motivation behind this effort began long before the assembly line. &ldquo;Behind the scenes, the &lsquo;why&rsquo; for Tech Valley was simple but profound: to make equitable, quality education accessible to every child in Pakistan,&rdquo; he said. He explained that the team envisioned an ecosystem, not just a product. &ldquo;We clubbed the products offered in the Pakistani market and built programs around it to help with adoption and local relevance.&rdquo;

Farooq spoke openly about the journey Tech Valley has taken across Pakistan. &ldquo;The impact has been a true roller coaster, from an elementary school in Bhakkar/Daddu to a university campus in Karachi, Lahore, Islamabad. We&rsquo;ve seen digital literacy transform students from simple users to future creators,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;This widespread change, touching elementary, middle schools, and universities, is only possible because we built true Public-Private Partnerships.&rdquo;

The Chromebook itself fits into this arc because the device removes many of the barriers that often stop schools from going digital. Chromebooks are inexpensive compared to traditional laptops, and their cloud-based system means teachers do not have to worry about software installations or updates. Tech Valley&rsquo;s plan to introduce Chromebook Access Hubs and affordable device-plus-internet bundles is meant to answer a more pressing challenge: Pakistan&rsquo;s large population of out-of-school children, many of whom never touch a computer until adulthood.

For education technology expert Imran Ahmed, who has spent more than a decade working on digital learning models, believes devices alone are not enough. While talking to The Express Tribune, he said, &ldquo;Children who grow up only on mobile phones learn to consume content, not create it. A Chromebook introduces them to typing, coding and problem-solving, which is the real shift Pakistan needs.&rdquo; But he also warned that teacher training remains the weakest link. &ldquo;If teachers are not trained, even the best device stays locked in a cupboard,&rdquo; he said.

As Tech Valley expands its education model to the Middle East and positions Pakistan as a regional tech support hub, the question now is whether the system around it will be ready too. But the conversation cannot stop at students alone. What happens outside these classrooms, in training centres and workshops and on factory floors, will decide how far this moment can really go. Where there are children learning on Chromebooks, there are adults who must build, maintain and support them, and the skills Pakistan will need to sustain this shift.



The workforce Pakistan needs

Beyond the hardware and the economics, the Chromebook assembly line points toward a larger, long-term challenge Pakistan has struggled to address, the country&rsquo;s shortage of skilled workers. For years, Pakistan&rsquo;s conversations around technology have focused heavily on software talent, developers and freelancers. But an assembly line of this scale brings a different kind of demand, technicians, repair specialists, quality-control operators, hardware assemblers and supervisors who understand how modern production floors work. Without this layer, the most promising projects remain dependent on imported expertise.

Google&rsquo;s strategy for Pakistan acknowledges this gap. Qureshi from Google, reminded that the company&rsquo;s focus on skilling predates the assembly line. &ldquo;Our first pillar is on building skills, as we recognise that Pakistan&rsquo;s most valuable digital exports come from its Pakistani talent,&rdquo; he said. For years, Google has been investing in digital training programs, and Qureshi added, &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve provided world-class learning through multiple initiatives that have empowered more than one million teachers, students, freelancers, developers and creators with digital skills.&rdquo;

The new MoU to train 100,000 developers is meant to build on that momentum. &ldquo;We have formalised an MOU with the Ministry of IT and Telecommunication to expand digital and AI skilling programs for the community, the gaming developer industry and startups,&rdquo; he said. He also linked this directly to Pakistan&rsquo;s broader economic ambitions, noting, &ldquo;The partnership with MoITT will be critical to transforming the digital ecosystem and help boost export-led growth for Pakistan.&rdquo;



&nbsp;

But the assembly line creates another demand: a technical workforce that can support manufacturing at scale. These are the people who will repair faulty units, manage quality checks, maintain machinery and keep the factory operational. Pakistan has historically ignored this middle layer, even though it forms the backbone of manufacturing economies. It is also where the country faces its most serious shortage.

Farooq from Tech Valley, explained why this workforce matters. &ldquo;We envisioned an ecosystem, not just a product.&rdquo; His line reflects a deeper reality: hardware projects cannot survive on developers alone. They require technical colleges, certification programs, and on-ground training that reaches beyond major cities.

Farooq also spoke about how Pakistan is beginning to build the kind of capability that can support these systems at home and abroad. &ldquo;We are becoming the Regional Tech Support Hub, it is a reality, not just an ambition,&rdquo; he said. That shift, if sustained, could open up a new category of jobs for Pakistani workers, roles that lie between software and heavy manufacturing, and that connect the assembly line to global markets.

In that sense, the skills conversation is not separate from the Chromebook story. It sits at the center of it, shaping whether this milestone becomes a one-off achievement or the beginning of a workforce ready for the next decade.

In that sense, the skills conversation is not separate from the Chromebook story. It sits at the center of it, determining whether Pakistan can move from isolated projects to something that resembles a real technology pathway. The assembly line may train workers for today, but the choices Pakistan makes around talent, capability and consistency will shape what comes next.



Pakistan&rsquo;s tech future

Every major shift begins with a moment that feels bigger than the announcement itself. For Pakistan, Google&rsquo;s decision to assemble Chromebooks on local soil carries that kind of symbolism. It signals that a global technology company is willing to anchor part of its hardware journey in a country that has long struggled to turn potential into performance. But symbolism alone is only the surface. What matters is what Pakistan does with it.

Pakistan has spoken for years about building a hardware ecosystem, but most attempts faded before they could find scale. The Chromebook line does not solve that gap, but it does give the country a starting point at a time when the global hardware landscape is evolving. In Qureshi&rsquo;s words, this moment is part of a larger direction. &ldquo;The launch is an inflection point to set the way for the years to come,&rdquo; he said. His point was not about volume or speed, but about the significance of Pakistan finally entering a space it remained absent from for far too long.

For the country&rsquo;s youth, the opportunity is sharper. A generation that grew up freelancing on mobile phones is now seeing a pathway into hardware support roles, device repair, testing labs, and cloud-enabled services built around affordable Chromebooks. Hybrid work is expanding globally and low-cost hardware remains in demand across the Middle East, Africa and South Asia. This creates room for Pakistan to position itself as a provider of reliable, entry-level devices and the talent that supports them.

Reliability, not mass-production, will be Pakistan&rsquo;s gateway to exports. The difference between assembly and manufacturing matters here. Assembly gives a country activity, but manufacturing gives it ownership. As Farooq reminded, Pakistan&rsquo;s ambition extends beyond its borders. &ldquo;This growth is key to realising a national aspiration: The &lsquo;Made in Pakistan&rsquo; Brand a Global Brand.&rdquo; His confidence reflects the idea that the country is not merely making devices, but preparing to build a reputation around them.

Yet the risks remain unchanged: sudden import restrictions, dollar shortages, shifting regulations and the political instability that always slows long-term planning. These challenges will test every step Pakistan takes. But they also sit alongside opportunities that did not exist a decade ago, AI-focused devices, regional demand for low-cost hardware, cloud-based learning, and a young workforce eager to work in tech if given the chance.

The Chromebook assembly line is a signal. It tells Pakistan that it can either build an ecosystem around this moment or let it pass like so many before it. If the country chooses the first path, this small beginning may well mark the start of a different kind of tech future, one that is shaped not by promises, but by the people ready to build it.

&nbsp;]]>
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			<title>COP 30 ends with promises on paper, heat on the planet</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2578644/cop-30-ends-with-promises-on-paper-heat-on-the-planet</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2578644/cop-30-ends-with-promises-on-paper-heat-on-the-planet#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sat, 22 Nov 25 20:00:02 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[HAMMAD SARFRAZ]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[World]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
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				<![CDATA[The world’s largest emitters stayed away, leaving rising emissions and vulnerable populations to bear the cost]]>
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				<![CDATA[Triple the climate finance for developing countries by 2035 &mdash; that is the marquee promise that took shape at COP30 in Bel&eacute;m, the gateway to the Amazon. The pledge might sound like progress, even as it lands in a world exhausted by promises and desperate for enforceable cuts to emissions.

But the reality is that, this year, even a show of global unity seemed like a distant dream. The United States, once central to climate negotiations, stayed away. With Donald Trump back in the White House, the summit&rsquo;s headline finance plan risks becoming less a breakthrough than a reminder that the world&rsquo;s biggest emitter is no longer willing to play ball, or participate in any meaningful way.

Despite the glaring absence of the US, Brazil &mdash; host of this year&rsquo;s COP30 summit &mdash; urged nations to unite behind a deal to strengthen international efforts, even as talks ran past their scheduled close, with countries deadlocked over how far the accord should push a shift away from fossil fuels. &ldquo;The US staying away from COP30 under Trump had a major negative effect &mdash; without one of the world&rsquo;s biggest emitters and funders at the table, the talks had less political weight and far fewer chances of turning into real action,&rdquo; said Dr Ashok Swain, professor of peace and conflict research at Sweden&rsquo;s Uppsala University and author of Climate Security.



&nbsp;

LExperts, in their ritualistic pronouncements, cast the conference as a make-or-break moment for global cooperation, calling on nations to set aside differences and &ldquo;show the world&rdquo; that coordinated action remains the only way forward. But in a world where the global order is ever more fractured, such unity feels increasingly elusive.

Swain warned that Washington&rsquo;s retreat makes it harder to deliver the finance, technology, and diplomatic pressure necessary to implement any climate deal, while also sending a damaging signal that powerful countries can walk away from global climate rules at will, eroding trust and encouraging others to do the same.

Like many recent COP gatherings, this year&rsquo;s event has not been short of drama. As the summit ran out of time, a bitter row erupted over fossil fuels, whose emissions remain the single largest driver of the climate crisis. At the heart of the dispute, BBC reported, is how forceful a deal should be in reducing global reliance on coal, oil, and gas &mdash; a question that requires consensus among all 194 participating nations.

Inside a heavily guarded negotiating room, the temperature remained high. A negotiator described the scene to the BBC simply: &ldquo;There is a lot of fighting.&rdquo; Delegates were expected to finish talks at 18:00 local time, but the conference spilled into overtime, with diplomats scrambling to salvage progress before the city&rsquo;s cruise ships, which house many delegations, depart on Saturday.

The United Kingdom and Brazil, led by President Luiz In&aacute;cio Lula da Silva, kept pushing for the summit to commit countries to stronger, faster action on fossil fuels, building on promises made at COP28 in Dubai. But many developing nations were reluctant, insisting that wealthier states first deliver the climate finance needed to cope with the impacts of global warming. Aisha Moriana, head of Pakistan&rsquo;s delegation, told the BBC &ndash; &ldquo;We need adaptation financing because we are already doing a lot to reduce emissions. Who will pay the cheque?&rdquo;

Negotiators have rewritten the agreement multiple times, yet the latest iteration astonishingly ignores the elephant in the room &mdash; fossil fuels &mdash; as if ignoring them could somehow make the climate crisis disappear. French Environment Minister Monique Barbut laid the blame squarely on &ldquo;oil-producing countries &mdash; Russia, India, Saudi Arabia, but joined by many emerging countries.&rdquo; And why not?

Amid all the frustration, Ed Miliband, the UK&rsquo;s Secretary of State for Energy Security and Net Zero, vowed to keep alive plans for a roadmap away from fossil fuels. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s hard, it&rsquo;s sweaty, it&rsquo;s frustrating. There&rsquo;s a big divergence of views,&rdquo; he said.

But for experts, the writing on the wall has been very clear &ndash; even with the climate clock ticking, reaching consensus on the world&rsquo;s most urgent challenge remains almost impossible. Swain cautioned that the wins at COP30 appear small &mdash; modest progress on adaptation finance and trade-related climate rules &mdash; while the losses loomed larger.

&ldquo;Brazil&rsquo;s draft text removed all references to phasing out fossil fuels, the heart of the climate problem, because major oil and gas producers pushed hard against it. This sets a dangerous precedent: if countries can remove fossil fuels from the conversation entirely, future COPs risk becoming empty meetings that avoid the real issues,&rdquo; he said.

Urgency and growing scepticism

COP30 convenes under the shadow of both urgency and deepening scepticism. Ten years have passed since the landmark Paris Agreement of 2015, when nearly 200 nations pledged to keep global warming within 1.5C above pre-industrial levels and &ldquo;well below&rdquo; 2C.

A decade on, the planet is already demonstrating the consequences of inaction. Heatwaves that scorch cities from Europe to South Asia, wildfires that consume landscapes in Australia and the western United States, and floods that uproot millions in South and Southeast Asia are no longer warnings&mdash;they are lived reality. Scientists have made it clear &ndash; the difference between 1.5C and 2C is more than a number &ndash; it is a chasm of human suffering, economic strain, and ecological collapse.

Despite the chorus of international rhetoric, the pace of progress remains painfully slow. While the environmental crisis has accelerated, government policies and national climate plans have consistently fallen short of the ambition required to meet the 1.5C goal. Ahead of COP30, countries were expected to submit updated Nationally Determined Contributions, detailing how they would curb planet-warming emissions. By late October, only a fraction had done so, underscoring a familiar pattern &ndash; while promises are bold, action lags far behind the urgency of the climate crisis.

The summit in Bel&eacute;m was not just another two-week negotiation. Once again, it was a lens into the systems, structures, and political dynamics that both enable and obstruct meaningful climate action. Climate finance sits at the heart of this conversation. Developing nations, already reeling from rising seas, shifting rainfall patterns, intensifying storms and heatwaves, depend on international support to build resilience and transition to low-carbon economies. But pledges of increased financing often trickle slowly, leaving communities on the frontline with too little and too late.

The political stakes could not have been higher. The absence of major emitters &mdash; United States under President Trump &mdash; is a warning for the world &ndash; climate action is as much a political struggle as a scientific one. Without the engagement of the world&rsquo;s largest emitters, agreements risk becoming ceremonial gestures rather than enforceable instruments of change. Experts warn that this vacuum erodes trust, undermines the credibility of the COP process, and encourages other nations to resist binding commitments.

Equity adds another layer of complexity. At the summit, developing nations continued to argue that they are being asked to shoulder the burden of emissions reductions, even as wealthier countries, historically responsible for the lion&rsquo;s share of greenhouse gases, have yet to deliver on promised support. This tension between responsibility and capacity has been at the heart of negotiations and complicates efforts to build consensus.

This year&rsquo;s climate gathering also casts a spotlight on the legal and structural frameworks meant to enforce accountability. While the Paris Agreement established reporting and review mechanisms, penalties for missed targets are minimal, and compliance remains largely voluntary. Experts argue that without transparent monitoring and binding commitments, the cycle of lofty ambitions followed by modest implementation is likely to continue. The summit, therefore, is not merely a negotiation&mdash;it is a test of whether international climate governance can be strengthened to ensure nations are held accountable.

Beyond the mechanisms of governance, climate diplomacy is entangled with geopolitics. Energy politics, trade rivalries, and economic considerations often overshadow environmental imperatives. Oil and gas producing nations continue resisting strong language on fossil fuel phase-outs, citing economic dependencies and energy security. Emerging economies, balancing growth with climate obligations, push for delayed timelines. These tensions explain why consensus remains elusive, even in the face of overwhelming scientific evidence.

COP30, like the conferences before it, carried immense symbolic weight. But every summit sends signals about global priorities, about whether nations will act in concert or retreat into national self-interest. When fossil fuel commitments are diluted or climate plans remain incomplete, the message is unmistakable &ndash; political expediency often trumps urgency, even as the planet warms, a point widely noted by climate experts.

In the end, with climate impacts accelerating&mdash;every summit that fails to deliver carries a human, ecological, and economic cost. The urgency is intensified by political uncertainty, economic competition, and the persistent influence of fossil fuel interests. The decade since Paris has been one of promises and partial progress. COP30&rsquo;s significance remained in its potential to break the cycle of symbolic pledges, to recalibrate international climate governance, and to demonstrate that collective action remains possible, even in a fractured world. For negotiators, experts, and all others watching, it is a moment to ask whether humanity can summon the ambition, solidarity, and political courage to steer the planet away from catastrophic warming&mdash;or whether, once again, the summit will become another entry in the ledger of deferred action &mdash; a pattern that seems all too familiar.

Erosion of climate ambition

As the world&rsquo;s climate clock ticks ever closer to a point of no return, the broader political landscape is pulling international action in contradictory directions. Swain&rsquo;s analysis of COP30 underscores a growing tension &ndash; as violent conflicts multiply and nationalism strengthens, the global climate agenda is losing cohesion.

What was once a forum for collective ambition has increasingly become a stage for countries to protect their immediate economic or political interests. COP30 exposed this fault line with greater clarity. Rather than forging bold agreements to slash emissions, the summit revealed a process edging towards incremental compromise, where the language of ambition is carefully maintained, while actual results shrink under political pressure. &ldquo;The climate agenda is shifting from bold action to slow, minimal compromise,&rdquo; Swain explained.

The stakes could not be higher. Emissions remain perilously high, and the summit&rsquo;s inability to confront fossil fuels head-on has left the world on a trajectory toward more than 2&deg;C of warming&mdash;well beyond the thresholds that scientists agree are safe for human and ecological systems. Swain points to this mismatch between rhetoric and reality as symptomatic of a deeper malaise: &ldquo;In this environment, countries talk about ambition, but the actual results are shrinking, not expanding. Right now, the world is falling far behind.&rdquo; The COP30 outcome, in this sense, reflects more than a negotiation impasse&mdash;it is a barometer of global political will in a moment when coordinated action is most urgent.

Lessons and hope

Regardless of the odds, Swain does not dismiss the possibility of progress. He highlights a parallel wave of momentum occurring outside national capitals. Cities, local governments, civil society groups, and renewable-energy companies continue to drive change even when national leaders are stalling. Technological advances in renewable energy and low-carbon solutions demonstrate what is possible, yet Swain cautions that innovation alone cannot close the gap. Without governments committing to enforceable measures, the difference between potential and reality will continue to widen. Policy, finance, and governance remain indispensable instruments, and their absence undermines even the most promising technical solutions.

Swain&rsquo;s observations extend to the fragile architecture of global cooperation. The retreat of major players, particularly the United States under President Trump, threatens to fracture the international system. Smaller coalitions outside the UN framework may emerge in response, but these fragmented efforts risk undermining the universality that has long been central to global climate diplomacy. &ldquo;With the US stepping back, other countries may start forming smaller climate groups outside the UN process, a trend that is more likely to make the global system even more fragmented,&rdquo; he cautioned. Such divisions compound existing inequities between wealthy and developing nations, where the lack of trust over climate finance and shared responsibility continues to complicate negotiations.

Equally troubling is the political clout of fossil-fuel producers, which Swain identifies as a structural obstacle to meaningful progress. At COP30, the failure to mention fossil fuels in the final draft represents more than an omission &mdash; it sets a precedent that powerful economic interests can silence the most urgent conversation on emissions reduction. The consequences extend beyond one summit: &ldquo;The failure to mention fossil fuels may make it even harder to include strong language next year,&rdquo; Swain observes. Without clear commitments to address the sector driving the crisis, incremental finance pledges and voluntary measures risk amounting to symbolic gestures rather than real mitigation.

The Sweden-based academic also frames the climate emergency within the broader reality of global governance and human vulnerability. As disasters grow in frequency and intensity &mdash; storms, floods, and heatwaves increasingly displace communities &mdash; the social and political consequences of inaction become unavoidable. These events exacerbate divisions, heighten nationalistic sentiment, and increase the likelihood that climate discussions will prioritise self-interest over shared responsibility. Swain&rsquo;s assessment suggests that this is the central paradox of modern climate politics &ndash; the very urgency of the crisis should spur cooperation, but geopolitical tensions, economic pressures, and entrenched interests are steering the global conversation toward fragmentation and delay.

Still, the narrative is not entirely bleak. Swain emphasises that pockets of leadership, innovation, and local action continue to emerge, demonstrating that progress is achievable. The challenge lies in scaling these initiatives and translating them into enforceable policies at the national and international levels. Without a concerted political effort, however, the gap between what science indicates is necessary and what is actually delivered will grow ever wider, increasing the human, environmental, and economic costs of delay.

In Swain&rsquo;s view, the lessons from Bel&eacute;m are clear &ndash; ambition alone is insufficient. Without political engagement, trust, and a renewed commitment to shared responsibility, the global climate agenda risks drifting further from the urgent goals outlined a decade ago in Paris.]]>
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			<title>The invisible victims of floods</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2577677/the-invisible-victims-of-floods</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2577677/the-invisible-victims-of-floods#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 16 Nov 25 00:53:41 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Kashif Mirza]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2577677</guid>
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				<![CDATA[Floodwaters have receded, but minorities remain the least served in Pakistan’s 2025 disaster]]>
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				<![CDATA[In the sweltering aftermath of Pakistan&#39;s most devastating monsoon season in recent memory, the waters have receded, but the scars remain etched deep into the lives of the nation&#39;s most vulnerable. The 2025 crisis unfolded with ferocious intensity. Torrential rains, swollen by climate change-fuelled anomalies, unleashed flash floods and accelerated glacial outbursts across Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP), Punjab, and Sindh provinces. By mid-October, the National Disaster Management Authority (NDMA) reported over 1,037 deaths and 6.9 million affected nationwide, with 3 million forced from their homes. The flood also caused extensive damage to infrastructure, with over 229,700 houses, 790 bridges, and 2,811 kilometres of roads destroyed or damaged according to NDMA.



The impact on minorities

A direct correlation exists between the specific provincial epicentres of the floods and the primary geographic concentrations of Pakistan&#39;s Christian, Hindu, and Sikh communities.

The Christian population is heavily concentrated in the flood affected areas of Punjab e.g. Lahore, Sialkot (Nala Aik, Nala Daik, Nala Palko) and Kasur (Bhikkiwind). This geographic vulnerability is compounded by socio-economic factors. A significant portion of the urban Christian population resides in katchi abadis that are often built on marginal, flood-prone land such as riverbanks and lack state-provided drainage or sanitation, making them exceptionally vulnerable to the urban and riverine flooding seen in 2025. Furthermore, Christians largely belong to the sanitation worker class, a role that exposes them directly to the hazardous after-effects of overflowing sewers and stagnant floodwaters.

&quot;Tribal Hindu communities in interior Sindh&quot; were explicitly identified in relief reports as being &quot;particularly affected&quot;. The floods in Sindh mapped directly onto districts concentrated with Hindu population including Thatta, Badin, Jamshoro, Dadu, Umerkot and Tharparker. The latter two have the highest absolute numbers, with Tharparkar at 810,000 population and Umerkot having 54.7% of Hindus in Pakistan. Located in an arid region, these are identified by the NDMA as a &quot;severe&quot; risk zone for drought. Their primary vulnerability, is socio-economic. The Hindu community is disproportionately affected by the hari and bonded labour system. As a landless minority often trapped in debt, their ability to evacuate or access aid is severely compromised.

The Sikh population is small, estimated to be 16,000&ndash;30,000, and highly clustered in a few specific locations including Buner district, KP, specifically in the village of Pir Baba which was directly in the path of the resulting flash floods and Narowal district, Punjab, home to the Kartarpur Sahib Gurdwara, and centre of the &quot;exceptionally high&quot; flooding from the Ravi, where floodwaters surged through the historic pilgrimage site, eroding foundations and submerging prayer halls. &quot;According to the information received, several feet of water entered not only the main Darbar but also the entire complex of Sri Kartarpur Sahib,&rdquo; says Giani Kuldip Singh Gargajj, acting Jathedar of Sri Akal Takht Sahib, in an urgent statement that rippled panic through global Sikh networks.



Neglected in aid relief

Field Marshal Syed Asim Munir, Pakistan&rsquo;s Army Staff, visited the area in late August, promising swift restoration. &ldquo;Protection of minorities and their religious places is the responsibility of the state and its institutions,&rdquo; he assured during an aerial survey reported by the Inter-Services Public Relations (ISPR).

Yet, amid the widespread tragedy, ethnic and religious minorities like Sikhs, Hindus, Christians, and indigenous groups in flood-prone regions, bear a disproportionate burden, their pleas for aid often drowned out by the roar of indifferent bureaucracy and societal prejudice. A September 2025 national survey by Gallup Pakistan found that over 80% of all affected households received no relief assistance whatsoever.

This data is crucial because Pakistan&#39;s religious minorities are disproportionately represented among the nation&#39;s poor, landless, and marginalised. The Gallup poll proves that the very system they were relying on was, by default, failing the demographic they belong to. In 2025, the HRCP issued a statement, reiterating its previous reports and calls to action, identifying the floods as manmade, due to poor planning, corruption, and land grabs and demanded that relief efforts provide &quot;equitable access&quot; for &quot;the most vulnerable&quot;. Read alongside the 2025 Gallup data and the historical reports of discrimination, their demand functions as an indictment of a system that is, by default, failing to provide that equity.

Qualitative reports from 2025 confirm that &quot;marginaliSed groups, including minorities&quot; faced reduced access to support, raising &quot;risks of favouritism and tension in aid distribution&quot;.



This data validates long-standing, documented patterns of discrimination in aid distribution during past floods, confirming that these communities face a compounded vulnerability: they are geographically marginalised into the most disaster-prone regions and systemically overlooked in the relief and recovery phases.

Relief efforts, coordinated by the NDMA and international partners like Unicef and Care, have reached millions amid the chaos, but structural barriers such as delayed surveys, remote access, unchecked profiteers, leave minority enclaves in Punjab and Sindh underserved. As Dr Andaleeb Koasar Jhatial, lecturer at the International Islamic University Islamabad, warns at a roundtable on humanitarian challenges, &ldquo;Floods and climatic shocks disproportionately affect women, children, and minorities,&rdquo; with provincial funding tussles and hoarding cartels spiking staples 30-50%. In Nankana Sahib and Thatta, aid rolls unevenly: &quot;relief supplies... seem insufficient,&quot; with displaced families reporting delays and inadequate rations, as detailed in Shamsul Islam Khan&#39;s, former vice president of the Karachi Chamber of Commerce and Industry and commodities expert, on-the-ground assessment prompting interfaith groups to bridge gaps. &ldquo;We prioritise humanity above all else,&rdquo; says Mahinderpal Singh in an online platform&rsquo;s story on flood relief coalitions, whose teams clean sacred sites while the state catches up. For survivors in leaking Punjab tents, it&#39;s a cruel wait: profiteers exploit the flood, turning tragedy into &quot;a test of... social justice,&quot; as the vice president frames the unfolding crisis.

This pattern of neglect is starkly evident in Sindh&#39;s Thatta and Badin districts, where Hindu and Christian fishing communities, comprising about 5% of the province&#39;s population, saw their thatched homes and boats obliterated. &ldquo;We have lost everything, our home and belongings. The greatest worry is what will happen after the water recedes and we have to leave this camp? Where will we go,&rdquo; says Rubina Bibi to an international news site from a submerged village, her family now crammed into a relief tent riddled with fever and fear. Her story, like thousands of others, now huddles in makeshift tents, battling outbreaks of malaria, dengue, and skin infections exacerbated by stagnant floodwaters. Women and girls, already facing heightened risks of gender-based violence in cramped camps, report being overlooked in aid distributions, their pleas dismissed as &quot;less urgent.&quot;

Human rights advocates paint a grim picture. The International Service for Human Rights (ISHR) warns that religious minorities are &quot;often the last to receive aid,&quot; heightening vulnerabilities to exploitation and disease. In KP, Kalash and other indigenous groups in Chitral valley, non-Muslim ethnic minorities clinging to ancient traditions, faced glacial lake outburst floods that wiped out terraced farms and sacred groves. &quot;The floods have washed away our ancient way of life, leaving us to rebuild what little remains of our heritage,&quot; laments a Kalash community spokesperson in a plea covered by a daily, speaking amid calls for government intervention to save their eroding culture. With limited access to early warning systems, these remote communities were more at-risk of sustaining casualties than those in nearby Pashtun-majority villages.



The impact on children

The floods&#39; toll on children, who make up a third of Pakistan&#39;s population, is particularly harrowing for minorities. Unicef] reports 255 child deaths by early September, many from drowning or post-flood illnesses In minority-heavy areas, disrupted schooling, with over 1,000 schools damaged, threatens generational erasure of cultural identities. &ldquo;In this tent school and safe space, we found so many things to learn and play as the kind teachers make us smile. It is a very good place to come and forget our grief and pain,&rdquo; shares Iqbal, a 9-year-old student displaced from his flooded home, in a Save the Children press release on emergency education efforts, his words a fragile thread holding onto normalcy amid the ruins.

Economic impact

Economically, the blow is existential. Minorities, often relegated to informal sectors like brickmaking and agriculture, lost livelihoods without the social safety nets afforded to others. An estimated 1.2 million hectares of land were inundated in Punjab, which serves as &quot;Pakistan&#39;s food basket&quot;. Care International notes that damaged infrastructure has isolated these groups, delaying cash transfers and microloans essential for rebuilding. A CGAP study highlights how climate shocks like these erode financial inclusion gains, pushing the poorest and disproportionately affected minorities, deeper into debt traps. With Rs 500 billion in agricultural damages alone and profiteers jacking up prices, rural producers, 40% of the workforce, face famine risks, their fields and livestock swallowed by the flood.



The most insidious impact of the floods on the Hindu community relates to the system of bonded labour.

Critics point fingers at governance failures. Poorly maintained embankments and unplanned urbanisation along riverbanks amplified the disaster, as seen in the 2022 floods&#39; eerie redux. &ldquo;We cannot allow our people to bear the brunt of climate inaction,&rdquo; argues Senator Sherry Rehman, Federal Minister for Climate Change, in an op-ed on monsoon vulnerabilities, calling for equitable international aid. The UN has stepped in with emergency plans, but gaps persist as OCHA notes uneven distribution, with minority areas underserved.

As Pakistan tackles reconstruction, voices from the margins grow louder. In relief camps dotting Punjab&#39;s floodplains, interfaith coalitions are emerging, blending Sikh langars with Christian prayer circles to share scarce resources. &ldquo;We learned the value of humanity from Guru Nanak. His message inspires us, and we try to follow his example by putting humanity first in everything we do,&rdquo; says Mahinderpal Singh, manager of United Sikhs in Pakistan, in a web story about the teams that doled out aid regardless of faith.



The policy omission

Yet, without targeted policies, bolstered early warnings, minority-inclusive disaster planning, and culturally sensitive aid, the 2025 floods could create deeper divides. In a nation where minorities number over 4 million, ignoring their plight isn&#39;t just unjust; it&#39;s a flood waiting to happen again. We must embed equity into our disaster frameworks, drawing from the National Disaster Risk Reduction Strategy (NDRRS) 2025&ndash;2030 and the International Organisation for Migration&#39;s (IOM) Pakistan Crisis Response Plan 2023&ndash;2025. Yet, an analysis of the NDRRS reveals a critical policy omission: while it references the need for inclusion and mentions &quot;marginalised communities,&quot; it fails to explicitly define &quot;religious minorities&quot; as a vulnerable category, risking perpetuation of exclusionary practices during multi-year recovery phases and locking these groups into persistent dependence amid future shocks.

The failure to translate the high-level policy into the operational guidelines creates a &quot;policy vacuum.&quot; The PDMA and DDMA authorities, who rely on operational guidelines, have no official mandate to collect pre-disaster data on minorities, assess their specific vulnerabilities (e.g., landlessness, housing type), or train response teams to handle caste or religious discrimination. This omission provides systemic cover for local-level discrimination. This exact chain of failure was documented in 2010 with the Ahmadiyya community and repeated, unaddressed, in 2022 with Scheduled Caste Hindus, proving it is a feature, not a bug, of the current system.

This gap is mirrored in the National Climate Change Policy (2021) which acknowledges that &quot;vulnerable poor and minority groups&quot; face increased risk, but the subsequent National Adaptation Plan implementation framework contains no specific, actionable initiatives for religious or caste-based minorities, subsuming them invisibly under &quot;social inclusion&quot;. At the provincial level, there is a total disconnect between policy and reality. In Sindh, the PDMA&#39;s generic policies resulted in an &quot;inadequate&quot; and &quot;unsatisfactory&quot; response for minorities, necessitating a separate investigation by the Sindh Human Rights Commission (SHRC). In Balochistan, the 2022 Post-Disaster Needs Assessment (PDNA) found &quot;substantial perceived favoritism, nepotism, corruption... discrimination, and exclusion in aid distribution,&quot; which &quot;deprives marginalised and excluded communities of support&quot;.

The state&#39;s primary mechanism for aid delivery is cash transfers (e.g., via BISP) contingent on a valid CNIC from Nadra. This system, while promoted for transparency, is a well-documented tool of exclusion. The NDMA itself acknowledges the &quot;difficulty in access to assistance for undocumented persons (CNIC...)&quot;. This system disproportionately excludes the most marginalised, particularly women in rural areas not registered as &quot;heads of household&quot; and other undocumented minority community members.

This on-the-ground reality, documented by human rights groups, was corroborated by the government&#39;s own high-level assessments. The government-led Pakistan Floods 2022: Post-Disaster Needs Assessment, with support from the UN, World Bank, and European Union, makes several critical admissions:


	The recovery strategy must be &quot;inclusive of marginalised groups, including women, persons with disabilities, and religious minorities&quot;.
	The PDNA explicitly lists &quot;religious minorities&quot; as among the &quot;social groups facing discrimination and lack of access to relief&quot;.
	The livelihood recovery strategy must include &quot;participation and fair wages to members of marginalised and minority communities&quot;.




This creates the final, damning contradiction: the problem of discrimination was acknowledged in high-level planning documents in Islamabad, while the NCHR&#39;s on-the-ground investigation in Sindh found &quot;No specific measures&quot; were ever implemented. This gap proves the ultimate governance failure: even when the problem is identified, the implementation and accountability mechanisms to stop it at the district level are non-existent.

To address these issues, we must develop multilingual early-warning systems that integrate indigenous knowledge, such as expanding the PDMA Madadgar app for real-time alerts in languages like Punjabi, Sindhi, and Kalasha, with geo-tagged vulnerability assessments ensuring 80% coverage in high-risk minority districts like Narowal and Chitral. This protocol, mandated under NDRRS, could slash fatalities by 30&ndash;50% among flood migrants, as modelled by IOM, by partnering with NGOs for community-led dissemination via radio and SMS. Complementing this, institutionalising gender and equity audits in disaster risk reduction (DRR) plans, requiring 30% minority representation in local committees, would foster participatory assessments, forming inclusive DRR bodies through community-based organisations like United Sikhs and piloting community-based adaptation in ethnic enclaves, as outlined in NDRRS sections on social inclusion and IOM&#39;s protection mainstreaming guidelines, while explicitly amending the strategy to define religious minorities as vulnerable, closing the identified gap in Sections 10.4 and 13.6.

Transitioning from prevention to response, mainstreaming culturally sensitive aid protocols demands allocating 20% of relief budgets for minority-specific needs, such as repairing temples and gurdwaras alongside faith-sensitive shelters that prevent gender-based violence and trafficking in camps. NDMA-led training modules on cultural competencies for responders, coupled with cash-for-work programmes prioritising informal minority labourers, align with IOM&#39;s emphasis on GBV case management and civil documentation, while NDRRS calls for psychosocial support tailored to marginalised groups. For recovery and rehabilitation, shock-responsive social protection must integrate DRR into safety nets like Benazir Income Support Programme expansions, offering microinsurance subsidies and livelihood restoration linked to cultural heritage, such as rebuilding Kalash terraced farms, through community-driven quick-impact projects for resilient shelters. Although, mandate that possession of a CNIC cannot be the sole prerequisite for life-saving aid (shelter, food, water, and emergency medical care), as recommended by previous analyses. Alternative identification, such as UN or INGO registration, or verified community-vouching systems, must be officially sanctioned. International donors should recognise that mainstream channels are failing. A significant portion of recovery funds must be channelled directly to registered, local, and community-based organisations that have proven, long-standing access to and trust from marginalised groups who are &quot;overlooked&quot; by official channels. This builds on NDRRS&#39;s inclusive recovery pillars and IOM&#39;s targeting of 905,000 vulnerable individuals, including border minorities, with nature-based solutions to curb migration hotspots as urged by the International Water Management Institute.

Direct, unconditional cash grants should be provided for Sikh shop-owners in Pir Baba, Buner, to rebuild their commercial livelihoods. Funding for the provision of personal protective equipment and hazard pay should be approved for Christian sanitation workers tasked with cleaning hazardous flood-waste. Grants for the restoration of damaged religious sites, including the historic Hindu temple in Jamshoro and St James Parish in Sialkot. The link between flooding and the deepening of bonded labour must be treated as a human trafficking and slavery crisis. Humanitarian agencies must coordinate with human rights bodies to prioritise the physical extraction, debt relief, and legal protection of bonded labourers and their families from flood-affected feudal lands as a life-saving intervention.

Grant the National Commission for Human Rights nd the Sindh Human Rights Commission formal, independent oversight authority over all DDMA and PDMA relief operations, including the power to receive and adjudicate complaints of discrimination.

Finally, a robust monitoring and evaluation framework with disaggregated data on minority outcomes, alongside capacity-building for 10,000 responders through cross-sector workshops with faith leaders, would ensure accountability via annual equity audits and nationwide scaling of apps like Madadgar. NDRRS mandates such gender-disaggregated indicators and training, echoed in Human Rights Watch&#39;s calls for monitoring to avert displacement and a Frontiers in Communication study on AI/IoT for inclusive alerts. With an estimated $500 million investment, these protocols, cemented in NDMA&#39;s annual plans, could transform Pakistan&#39;s response from reactive chaos to equitable resilience, honouring the survivors&#39; unyielding call for justice.

The writer is a human rights expert, filmmaker &amp; researcher and can be reached at qashif.mirza@gmail.com and (X) @qashifmirza

All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the writer]]>
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			<title>The original sin of Frankenstein</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2577687/the-original-sin-of-frankenstein</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2577687/the-original-sin-of-frankenstein#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 16 Nov 25 01:46:54 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Zeeshan.Ahmad]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[Entertainment]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2577687</guid>
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				<![CDATA[The horror in both del Toro’s film &amp; Shelley’s original emerges when ingenuity is divorced from responsibility]]>
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				<![CDATA[I came across a reel on Instagram recently that described Dr Victor Frankenstein as the &ldquo;OG f***boi&rdquo;. As funny as this Gen Z take on the titular protagonist of Mary Shelley&rsquo;s classic of Gothic horror may sound, it may not be that far off &mdash; especially when taking into account the life of one of the likely inspirations behind Dr Frankenstein: Mary&rsquo;s husband and pre-eminent English Romantic poet, Percy Bysshe Shelley.

In an era we otherwise remember for extreme prudishness, Percy &mdash; and Mary herself, to an extent &mdash; championed radical ideas on politics, social reform and religion. Mary, like her mother Mary Wollstonecraft, was deeply engaged in feminist thought and the liberal intellectual ferment of her time. Percy, among his other extreme stances by that period&rsquo;s standards, advocated for &ldquo;free love&rdquo; more than a century before the term became synonymous with LSD, counterculture communes, flower crowns and hazy summer festivals.

While Percy&rsquo;s version was far less tie-dye utopia and far more philosophical provocation &mdash; he argued quite earnestly that love could not be bound by law, convention, or the sanctity of marriage, and that relationships should be guided only by sincerity and the pursuit of personal liberty &mdash; in lived reality, it often translated into Percy drifting from one intense emotional entanglement to another, leaving behind a trail of heartache and tragedy. The suicides of Mary&rsquo;s half-sister Fanny Imlay &mdash; who Mary&rsquo;s father William Godwin believed was in love with Percy &mdash; and Percy&rsquo;s first wife Harriet Westbrook, abandoned while pregnant, cast a long, anguished shadow over his insistence that unconventional choices are purely matters of principle.



It is here, in the gap between lofty idealism and the messy consequences of acting on it, that one begins to see the faint outline of Victor Frankenstein emerge: a brilliant young man intoxicated by his own ideas, convinced of their righteousness and utterly unprepared &mdash; and hence unwilling &mdash; to shoulder responsibility for what those ideas unleash.

The Instagram reel fixates on one line from the latest take on Frankenstein by Guillermo del Toro for Netflix: &ldquo;I never considered what would come after creation.&rdquo;

The author of the reel opts to view it in the familiar register of modern (mostly Western) men&rsquo;s aversion to commitment. In that framing, Victor&rsquo;s confession becomes the spiritual ancestor of the contemporary situationship: of men (and women as well) who want the thrill of romance without the burden of consequence, and who see the act of making &mdash; whether a life, a promise or a mess &mdash; as somehow detached from the duty of sustaining what follows.



Indeed, del Toro&rsquo;s version of the story seems grounded more in the &ldquo;domestic&rdquo; aspect, and deviates significantly from Mary Shelley&rsquo;s original in several key details. Victor&rsquo;s backstory is reimagined, his childhood becoming the trigger for his obsession and mistreatment of his creation. His tense relationship with his father, seemingly devoid of affection, foreshadows the emotional vocabulary he later brings to his creation: brittle, punitive, and shaped by a pedagogy of fear.

As he frustrates himself while trying to teach his creation, Victor slaps and berates him in a direct echo of the corporal punishment his father once meted out while drilling him on the finer points of medicine. A boy wounded by cruelty becomes a man who administers the same, convinced it is discipline, not damage.

The character of Elizabeth, too (played by Mia Goth), has been reinvented. Unlike the original, in which Elizabeth and Victor are childhood companions whose relationship culminates in marriage, del Toro&rsquo;s Elizabeth is betrothed to Victor&rsquo;s younger half-brother William and becomes the target of Victor&rsquo;s unsuccessful, purely lustful attempt at seduction.



Del Toro&rsquo;s Elizabeth also takes a more active and sympathetic role towards Victor&rsquo;s creation, showing shades of almost maternal affection. Interestingly, Mia Goth also plays the role of Victor&rsquo;s mother in an unrecognisable transformation, creating a deliberate parallel: both Victor and his creation have abusive &ldquo;fathers&rdquo; whom they hold responsible for the loss of their &ldquo;mothers&rdquo;.

Speaking to Variety in August, del Toro made it clear that his Frankenstein may not be the most accurate adaptation: &ldquo;The usual discourse of Frankenstein has to do with science gone awry&hellip; But for me, it&rsquo;s about the human spirit. It&rsquo;s not a cautionary tale: it&rsquo;s about forgiveness, understanding and the importance of listening to each other,&rdquo; he said.

Shifting the story&rsquo;s core from the realm of Enlightenment anxiety to intimate moral drama is an intriguing reframing. Rather than dwelling on the hubris of scientific ambition, del Toro is preoccupied with the catastrophes that erupt when people fail to see &mdash; and refuse to hear &mdash; the emotional needs of those to whom they are bound. It makes sense in del Toro&rsquo;s broader oeuvre, where &ldquo;monsters&rdquo; are often the most vulnerable beings on screen, and where the true horror lies in what cruelty, indifference or trauma can sculpt out of a living creature.



However, regardless of del Toro&rsquo;s intentions, now, as in the era when Mary Shelley&rsquo;s Frankenstein was first published, it is impossible to divorce the story from the anxieties of scientific progress and possibility. Much like today, Shelley lived in a world undergoing profound technological and social transformation, accompanied by the dawning sense that human ingenuity might soon trespass into realms previously reserved for &ldquo;God&rdquo; or nature. The fear was not that science could go awry, but that it could succeed &mdash; granting humanity powers it was neither ethically equipped nor emotionally mature enough to wield.

&ldquo;And having reached the edge of the earth, there was no horizon left. The achievement felt unnatural. Void of meaning. And this troubled me so,&rdquo; del Toro&rsquo;s Victor Frankenstein reflects.



Perhaps that is why, even today, over two centuries after it was published, the story&rsquo;s pulse remains recognisably modern. In the shadow of nuclear power, genetic engineering, social media and artificial intelligence &mdash; among other rapidly accelerating technologies &mdash; we too flirt with powers that outstrip our wisdom. Especially when we listen to many of today&rsquo;s big-tech custodians.

Certainly, it is tempting to reread the story of Frankenstein in the context of AI in particular. But while we look out, in fear, for the ghost in the machine, the actual &ldquo;monster&rdquo; is the machine itself. It should not be the &ldquo;sentience&rdquo; of the algorithm &mdash; something that, for now, does not actually exist &mdash; that ought to unnerve us, but rather the consequences of ceding critical thinking and moral judgement to mere lines of code.

In Frankenstein, the true threat was never Victor&rsquo;s creation. Nor, in our world, is it the algorithm itself. The horror, in both del Toro&rsquo;s Netflix adaptation and Shelley&rsquo;s original vision, emerges from the moral and emotional bankruptcy that follows when human ingenuity is divorced from responsibility. Humanity is capable of astonishing things, but if we cannot care for what we bring into the world, we risk becoming the architects of our own ruin.

&nbsp;]]>
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			<title>Roman Urdu: Convenience or cultural loss?</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2577680/roman-urdu-convenience-or-cultural-loss</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2577680/roman-urdu-convenience-or-cultural-loss#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 16 Nov 25 01:13:35 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Rabia Khan]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2577680</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[Once the language of Faiz, Iqbal, Manto, Urdu is now being typed in clumsy Roman letters]]>
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				<![CDATA[In 2012, Sanya* joined an institute to learn MS Office. When the teacher was delivering a lecture, she noticed the girl sitting next to her was writing furiously. Her pen danced across the page like an Olympic sprinter on the track. &ldquo;Wow, such fast English shorthand!&rdquo; she thought. Later, curious to catch up on her missing notes, she borrowed her notepad.

What she saw scrawled on it shocked Sanya quite a bit. The pages were filled with what looked like English words, but none of them made English structural sense. Confused, she asked her classmate: &ldquo;What is this? Which language have you written?&rdquo; With a casual smile, the girl replied, &ldquo;Oh, I write in Roman Urdu.&rdquo;

That moment hit Sanya like a twist in a drama. What she thought was flawless English turned out to be Urdu in English letters. A practice now so common that even classrooms have become battlegrounds where Nastaliq is quietly losing to Roman script.

Is that where our tragedy starts? Urdu is still alive, but its script seems to making its way out. barely surviving.

Before we bury Urdu under Roman letters, let&rsquo;s remind ourselves what we&rsquo;re losing. Urdu is among the top ten most spoken languages in the world, with over 230 million speakers across Pakistan, India, the Middle East, Europe, and North America. It is the language of Faiz&rsquo;s poetry, Ghalib&rsquo;s wit, Iqbal&rsquo;s philosophy, and Manto&rsquo;s rebellion. It carries the fragrance of Persian, the rhythm of Arabic, and the sweetness of Hindi.

Globally, Urdu enjoys respect. Foreigners take courses in Urdu literature. European universities have Urdu chairs. Bollywood songs sprinkle Urdu words because they sound classy and Indian poets such as Gulzar and Javed Akhtar gloat on their prowess in Urdu. In fact, sometimes it feels like outsiders value Urdu more than we do. The irony? While a German might recite Iqbal with passion, a Pakistani student struggles to read a newspaper headline in Nastaliq.

Our relationship with Urdu, in the present day, is like we have the treasure, but we don&rsquo;t know its worth.

What exactly is Roman Urdu?

Roman Urdu is when Urdu stops wearing its elegant Nastaliq attire and slips into casual English jeans. Instead of &ldquo;آنا,&rdquo; we write &ldquo;ana.&rdquo; Instead of &ldquo;آپ کیسے ہیں؟&rdquo; we write &ldquo;ap kese hain?&rdquo; Instead of &ldquo;میرا نام علی ہے,&rdquo; we scribble &ldquo;mera naam Ali hai.&rdquo;

At first glance, Roman Urdu looks harmless. After all, it saves time. No need to switch keyboards, no worrying about fonts. Perfect for texting &ldquo;kya kr rahe ho&rdquo; at lightning speed. But beneath this convenience lies a dangerous loss. Roman Urdu cannot capture Urdu&rsquo;s true sounds, flavours, or beauty.



How Roman Urdu crept in?

Let&rsquo;s not blame WhatsApp for this mess. Roman Urdu has a long, shady history. In the 19th century, Christian missionaries used Roman letters to translate the Bible in India. Later, the British administration also experimented with Roman Urdu because learning Nastaliq was &ldquo;too difficult.&rdquo; Colonial laziness planted the first seeds.

However, the actual explosion came in the 1990s and early 2000s. Mobile phones entered our lives. SMS was king. But guess what? No Urdu keyboards. To save time, people started typing Urdu in English alphabets. &ldquo;Kya kar rahe ho,&rdquo; &ldquo;main theek hoon,&rdquo; &ldquo;jaldi ao&rdquo; and just like that, Roman Urdu became the language of love, gossip, and friendship.

It jumped onto Orkut, Yahoo Messenger, MSN, Facebook, and eventually WhatsApp then began as necessity turned into addiction. Today, Roman Urdu is everywhere: in social media comments, YouTube titles, advertisements, and even student assignments.



Weak links

Everywhere in the world, people and especially leaders wear their language like a crown. Indians? Mr Bachan pushes Hindi like he is reading sacred texts. Chinese? They don&rsquo;t even bother with English. Their leaders speak Chinese in global forums. Iranians? Farsi flows from their officials like poetry, even in UN meetings.

And then Pakistan, our leaders step on international platforms and suddenly transform into broken-English stand-up comedians. Why? Because deep down, they think Urdu is &ldquo;backward.&rdquo; Imagine! A language with centuries of literature, poetry, and cultural depth, treated like a poor relative not welcome at the dinner table.

Now, let&rsquo;s come back home. Where does the decline of Urdu actually begin? Not in parliaments. Not even in classrooms. It begins in drawing rooms.

A mother tells her child, &ldquo;Beta, kitab uthao.&rdquo; The child looks confused. She sighs and says, &ldquo;Okay fine, book le aao.&rdquo; English wins. Game over.

Children today know names of dinosaurs, but can&rsquo;t pronounce &ldquo;Urdu words&rdquo;. Why? Because parents themselves don&rsquo;t care. Correct English? Essential. Correct Urdu? &ldquo;Choro yaar, koun si naukri Urdu mein mile gi?&rdquo;

There was a time when kids slept listening to tales of Umro Ayyar, Tilism-e-Hoshruba, and Dastan-e-Amir Hamza. Now they sleep to Peppa Pig and Baby Shark. Parents used to buy Urdu digests, storybooks, or at least Taleem-o-Tarbiat. Today, it&rsquo;s YouTube Kids on auto-play.

Moreover, teachers confirm the damage, and their words sting. &ldquo;Earlier, students could read Iqbal and Ghalib with fluency,&rdquo; says one Urdu lecturer in Islamabad. &ldquo;Now? They can&rsquo;t even finish a newspaper headline without stumbling.&rdquo; Another senior teacher in Karachi shakes her head: &ldquo;Exams are filled with hybrid language. Students write: Pakistan ka future bright hai. I don&rsquo;t know whether to laugh, cry, or hand them an Oxford dictionary.&rdquo;

&ldquo;Some students don&rsquo;t even bother with script anymore. They write entire assignments in Roman Urdu and submit them proudly!&rdquo; says a lecturer in Karachi. &ldquo;Imagine a final-year thesis where you read: Pakistan ki economy down hai coz corruption zyada hai. That&rsquo;s not a research paper. That&rsquo;s a WhatsApp group chat with references missing.&rdquo;

Another Urdu teacher in Peshawar adds with frustration: &ldquo;When we ask them to write an essay, they open Google Translate. When we ask them to recite poetry, they ask if there&rsquo;s an audio version. When we assign Urdu reading, they ask if there&rsquo;s a Roman copy. It&rsquo;s not weakness anymore, it is dependency.&rdquo;

But what shocks teachers most is the attitude. Instead of being embarrassed about their weak Urdu, many students flaunt it. &ldquo;They actually say, &lsquo;Sir, What is the future of Urdu? English hi future hai.&rsquo; They wear their ignorance like a badge of honour,&rdquo; a Peshawar teacher laments. Another add with bitter humor: &ldquo;At this rate, the next generation won&rsquo;t apologise for not knowing Urdu; they&rsquo;ll celebrate it in their CVs: Skills: Roman typing, emoji fluency, zero Urdu required.&rdquo;



PTV&rsquo;s pure Urdu

PTV was like a learning corner for Urdu. Anchors spoke so flawlessly that families would actually force their kids to sit for 9 pm Khabarnama. Not for the news. No one cared about wheat production or minister visits. They watched to learn pronunciation, to polish accents, to feel the rhythm of Urdu.

Then there was Neelam Ghar. Tariq Aziz. A man who could make even ordinary things sound poetic. His legendary opening line &ldquo;دیکھتی آنکھوں، سنتے کانوں، آپ کو طارق عزیز کا سلام&rdquo; was not just an introduction; it was an Urdu master class. Every word crisped. Every syllable shined. You didn&rsquo;t just win a water cooler, you won respect for Urdu.

Kasauti, Quizz Time, debates, mushairas, were places where Urdu showed its strength. Students from schools and colleges came on stage, delivering speeches, reciting poetry, competing with wit. Even the dramas taught language.

Today, private channels arrived like noisy relatives. Urdu was pushed aside, replaced by &ldquo;Breaking News,&rdquo; live updates, and talk shows. Anchors mix English, Urdu, and drama, turning news into theatre. &ldquo;Dekhiye, basically, iss waqt jo political scenario hai na, woh a kind of game changer hai.&rdquo; Urdu?

And don&rsquo;t even get me started on the dramas. &ldquo;Tum mere liye coffee laaogi ya main khud order karun?&rdquo; Urdu is left crying in the corner. Thanks to Bollywood influence, we now hear idioms that don&rsquo;t even belong here. You think you&rsquo;re watching Pakistani TV, but it sounds like a dubbed Indian serial. &ldquo;Aisay thorri na hota hai!!&rdquo;

Finally big corporations figured: pure Urdu doesn&rsquo;t sell. Catchy hybrid slogans do. So they gave us gems like:

Dil Maange More, Mana lo freshness ka maza, Clear hai, zone mein aa, aza Aesa Dil Dance Maray, no more haddi! How will the young ones learn that haddi begins with hai waali hay, and not hallway wali hay, nor do chashmi hay? Urdu alphabet is dying!

The dominance of Roman Urdu has given birth to a generation that finds it easier to text in English alphabet, despite availability of global keyboards, than to read or write in its own script. This change may seem convenient, but it has consequences: students are losing their ability to engage with classical literature, understand academic texts, or even write Urdu properly. The beauty of the language, expressed through calligraphy, poetry, and literature, is being diluted into a simple form that lacks depth and accuracy. Roman Urdu dominates because it is quick, largely used digitally, and requires no special keyboard, but this easiness comes at the cost of weakening cultural identity. If the trend continues, the gap between spoken familiarity and written incompetence will only grow, leaving Urdu as a language people can speak but not truly read or write.

The rise of Roman Urdu isn&rsquo;t just a harmless shortcut; it is cultural slow poison packaged as convenience. Advertising made sure the damage stuck. Brand taglines have warped our sense of grammar, so when commercials reduce a national language to hybrid slogans, should we really be surprised that students now struggle to write a single page of Urdu without hesitation? They can swipe emojis and scroll TikTok in seconds, but put a notebook in front of them and suddenly Urdu feels like rocket science.

This isn&rsquo;t modernisation; it&rsquo;s laziness dressed up as progress. Imagine handing Iqbal&rsquo;s poetry to the next generation, only for them to ask if there&rsquo;s a Roman-script version on Google. Across the world, nations guard their languages like treasure, while we auction ours off to ratings, slogans, and autocorrect. If we don&rsquo;t stop now, Urdu&rsquo;s obituary won&rsquo;t be in elegant Nastaliq it will be typed in clumsy Roman, probably with a laughing emoji at the end.

The choice is simple but urgent: either reclaim our pride in Urdu through schools, media, and homes, or accept that WhatsApp slang will be the cultural legacy we leave behind. Hate to say it but it seems that Urdu&rsquo;s funeral will be in Roman script (with LOL at the end)!

&nbsp;

Rabia Khan is a writer who covers social issues, literature, and cultural values of Pakistan. She can be reached at rabiayousufzai26@gmail.com.

All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the writer

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			<title>Remembering Dr Arfa Zehra: The teacher who taught us how to live, not just earn</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2577678/the-luminous-teacher</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2577678/the-luminous-teacher#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 16 Nov 25 01:04:54 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Dr Aftab Husain]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2577678</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[Dr Arfa Sayeda Zehra blended intellect, humility, and compassion in an age of noise]]>
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				<![CDATA[I never had a chance to meet Dr Arfa Sayeda Zehra in person, yet I have always felt a deep and personal connection with her. It was in the early 1980s, during my years at the Oriental College, Punjab University&mdash;where I was pursuing my master&rsquo;s in Urdu Literature&mdash;that I first heard her name from my revered teacher and literary guide, Dr Sajjad Baqar Rizvi. At that time, as I recall, Dr Zehra was in the United States.

Baqar Sahib had taught thousands of students over the decades, yet there were only a handful whom he remembered with such warmth and pride&mdash;and among them, he often spoke of Arfa Zehra. Whenever he mentioned her, his eyes glimmered with affectionate admiration. I still remember him describing her brilliance and conviction as a student, and later, I came across her own remark: &ldquo;Maĩ Bāqar Sāḥib kī sar chaṛhī shāgird thī..&rdquo; (I was Baqar Sahib&rsquo;s fondly pampered student.)

There was a considerable temporal distance between her student years and mine, yet in my heart, I always considered myself her Khwājatāsh&mdash;a fellow disciple of the same teacher. Perhaps it was because, in the final years of Baqar Sahib&rsquo;s teaching life, I was among the few who remained close to him, often engaging him in spirited discussions&mdash;what he affectionately described as &ldquo;locking horns.&rdquo;

Dr Arfa Sayeda Zehra&rsquo;s first love was always literature. She earned her master&rsquo;s degree in Urdu literature and later pursued a doctorate in history. This academic evolution reflected her expanding intellectual horizons. As an educationist, she embraced the wider landscape of the humanities and social sciences, enriching her scholarship with depth and diversity. Yet, despite all her scholarly engagements, she never lost her touch with literature.

Her language remained refined, gentle, and melodious&mdash;her words imbued with clarity and grace. The manner in which she spoke carried a rare calmness and dignity, her voice measured, her expressions lucid, and her lips often adorned with a knowing, benign smile. She had the rare gift of turning intellect into empathy and knowledge into illumination.

Her intellectual strength lay not in providing answers but in inspiring questions. In an age saturated with information&mdash;where everyone seems eager to offer conclusions&mdash;she reminded us of the deeper wisdom of inquiry. She believed that genuine understanding begins not with answers, but with the courage to ask. As Firaq Gorakhpuri beautifully put it:

Maĩ pūchta to hū̃, magar javāb ke liye nahī̃..

(I do ask questions, but not merely for the sake of answers.)

Her reflections on modern indifference often returned to this same theme: that we have learned to ask the grand, metaphysical questions but forgotten the simplest, most human ones&mdash;whether another person is well or in need of care. Beneath such observations lay her moral conviction that knowledge and piety are hollow if they do not give rise to compassion.

Born in Lahore around 1942, Dr Zehra spent most of her life in that historic city, shaping minds and spirits alike. Her educational journey reflected both intellectual rigour and spiritual depth: besides a master&rsquo;s in Urdu literature, she held a master&rsquo;s in Asian Studies and a PhD in History from the United States. Her professional life was no less distinguished: she served as Principal of Lahore College for Women and later of Government College, Gulberg, and in her later years as a professor at Iqra University. Yet, it was never the positions she held but the purpose she served that defined her.

She often said that teaching, for her, was not about transmitting information but transforming perception. &ldquo;If even two of my thirty-five students are influenced by me,&rdquo; she once reflected, &ldquo;I would consider that success. I never wanted merely to teach subjects, but to teach how to live. Education is not for employment; it is for life.&rdquo; This conviction&mdash;rooted in humility and purpose&mdash;defined over four decades of her teaching career.

Dr Zehra also stood out as a voice of reason amid rising extremism. Her critique was fearless yet never harsh. With her characteristic wit and calmness, she once remarked that in today&rsquo;s world, everyone seems ready to call the other an unbeliever&mdash;proof, she said with irony, that no true believers are left. Behind such comments was not cynicism but pain&mdash;a lament for the loss of tolerance and self-reflection in society.

She was an enlightened scholar who sought to bring vital and elemental changes to Pakistani society&mdash;in its manners of thought and its structures of feeling. Yet she was never a &ldquo;motivational speaker&rdquo; in the shallow, performative sense this term has come to signify. Her influence stemmed from ethical reasoning, not theatrics. For her emphasis on values and her didactic clarity, some critics aligned her with Ashfaq Ahmad and other so-called Baba intellectuals who drew on esoteric traditions. But unlike them, Dr Arfa was in no way an obscurantist. Her ideas were lucid, forward-looking, and grounded in modern sensibility. Because she occasionally quoted scripture or drew moral insight from religious sources, some liberal or left-leaning commentators mistakenly placed her within right-wing thought. In truth, she consistently illuminated the humanist and pragmatic dimensions of religion, distinguishing her vision from both sentimental piety and ideological rigidity.

It was this balance of moral firmness and intellectual grace that made her respected across ideological divides. Those rooted in traditional thought admired her grounded approach, while liberal voices, even when they disagreed, acknowledged her sincerity. She belonged to no faction; she belonged to thought itself.

Spiritually, she found guidance in the vision of Rumi, whom she called her murshid. She often echoed his insight that the greatest power belongs to the one who can renounce, for whoever cannot let go owns nothing&mdash;whether in a treasury or a kitchen. Through Rumi&rsquo;s lens, she cultivated detachment without denial and conviction without arrogance. Her inner life was one of spiritual discipline and moral clarity.

Dr Zehra&rsquo;s literary pursuits extended beyond her lectures and essays. She translated several important works that brought world literature closer to Urdu readers&mdash;Ababeel (a Moroccan novel), Sultana&rsquo;s Dream, Darya Bibi (Bangladeshi works), and Aurat, a selection of stories centred on women&rsquo;s lives. These translations were not just linguistic exercises; they were acts of cultural empathy, bridging voices across geography and gender.

Dr Arfa Sayeda Zehra questioned assumptions and invited reflection on the cultural, ethical, and social dilemmas of our times. Her insights into our collective behaviour and intellectual stagnation often provided both critique and clarity. Even for those who did not always agree with her views, her words compelled serious thought and self-examination.

In a society that is becoming increasingly hollow and superficial, Dr Arfa Sayeda Zehra stood as an intellectual of both substance and style. Her eloquence was never ornamental; it carried conviction, rooted in knowledge and moral awareness.

With her passing, Pakistan has lost one of its most luminous voices: an educationist, scholar, and humanist whose contributions transcended disciplines. She was not only a teacher but also a moral and cultural force, nurturing minds and shaping characters. Her presence was a blend of intellect and compassion; her discourse, a confluence of wisdom and humanity.

Her departure leaves a silence that feels larger than loss. Yet her voice&mdash;soft, thoughtful, unhurried&mdash;continues to echo in every conversation where knowledge meets conscience.

&nbsp;

Aftab Husain is a Pakistan-born and Austria-based poet in Urdu and English. He teaches South Asian literature and culture at Vienna University

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			<title>The last voyage of Pakistan’s wooden boats</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2577688/the-last-voyage-of-pakistans-wooden-boats</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2577688/the-last-voyage-of-pakistans-wooden-boats#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 16 Nov 25 01:53:36 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Shabina Faraz]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2577688</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[Along Balochistan’s shores, the rhythmic hammering of wooden boat-makers once echoed with pride and purpose.]]>
			</description>
			<content:encoded>
				<![CDATA[Can an age-old heritage survive or will it sink into memory?

Our traditional wooden boat-building industry, an age-old craft is deeply embedded in the cultural and economic fabric of fishing towns such as Gwadar, Pasni, Ormara, Surbandar, Damb, Gaddani, and Karachi. Over two million people are directly involved in this industry that has steadily declined because of rapid paradigm shifts toward modern boat technologies, lack of institutional support, and the dwindling market demand. Once the pride of Pakistan&rsquo;s coastal communities, is now on the verge of extinction.

According to Muhammad Moosa, a representative of the Wado Boat Builders Association in Balochistan, the tide has turned dramatically. &ldquo;Nearly 65 percent of all fishing boats in operation today are fibreglass, and among the small fishing fleet, that number rises to 95 percent,&rdquo; he explains. These fibreglass boats are often imported from Iran or are Pakistan-made and, in many cases, these enter the local market with minimal regulation. Hybrid models, which typically involve a partial fibreglass coating on an old wooden boat frame, now constitute around 18 percent of the overall fleet.

Shifting workforce and deteriorating infrastructure

The traditional industry is also facing significant challenges with labour and infrastructure. While the local boat-building tradition once relied on generations of Baloch and Sindhi craftsmen, the current environment sees workers from Punjab, Sindh, and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa supplementing the dwindling local talent. This shift is not without consequence; the nuanced skills that make the wooden boats so unique are gradually being lost.

Furthermore, the facilities where these boats are constructed are often inadequate. Moosa cites issues such as a lack of shaded work areas, insufficient health and safety measures, inadequate heavy-duty lifts for shifting boats, and a general shortage of proper modern tools. These conditions not only slow down production but also expose workers to serious health and safety risks.



The traditional wooden boat

Faiz Ahmed Wado, an indigenous boat-building labourer and contractor, identifies four distinct categories of traditional wooden fishing boats: Yakdar Boats. These small boats, with a keel length of 15 to 20 feet, a width of 6 feet, and a height of 2.5 feet, are valued between Rs 800,000 and Rs1,000,000. They are primarily used for catching sardines, ribbonfish, and shrimp. Bangda Boats are medium-sized vessels measuring 32 to 35 feet in keel length, 13 feet in width, and 7 feet in height, are usually priced around Rs 4 million. They are particularly popular in Indian mackerel fishing. Gallet Boats are medium to larger wooden boats with a keel length ranging from 35 to 37 feet, 17 feet in width, and 10 feet in height carry a price tag of approximately Rs 7 million. These boats target species such as large croaker, Spanish mackerel, and trevally. Launch boats, the largest traditional wooden boats, with keel lengths between 40 and 50 feet, a width of 20 feet, and a height of 12 feet, are valued at around Rs 11 million. These vessels are mainly used for deep-sea tuna and sailfish fishing.

The grim economic prospects for traditional boat builders have further exacerbated the industry&#39;s decline. &ldquo;We used to build 8 to 10 boats a month,&rdquo; Faiz Ahmed laments. &ldquo;Now, the demand has shrunk by nearly 70&ndash;80 percent, and we mostly work on just one boat per month.&rdquo; Labour wages in this industry have stagnated at roughly Rs 2,000 per day, a figure considerably lower than those in other sectors, contributing to an acute shortage of experienced carpenters and artisans.

To extend the lifespan of older wooden boats, many owners are opting for retrofitting them with fibreglass coatings. While this hybrid method may provide a temporary solution, it ultimately undermines the long-term preservation of the traditional craft.



The wood supply chain

A crucial element of wooden boat-building is the choice of materials. Abdul Wahid, who operates a wood-cutting enterprise, explains that two types of wood are essential: one for the ribs (the structural framework) and another for the side panels. The side panels rely on high-quality hardwoods such as Ballaho, Burmatic, Nishat, Pain, and Golden Wood materials imported from Malaysia, Burma, and various African countries. In contrast, the ribs are constructed from locally sourced woods, including varieties like local Kikkar (Kandi), Tally, and Ellanchi (Eucalyptus).

&ldquo;The industry consumes around 20 truckloads of wood every month,&rdquo; Wahid observes. &ldquo;Although there are still 20 wood-cutting mills operating along the Balochistan coast, from Gwadar to Karachi, business is rapidly declining as demand for traditional boats diminishes.&rdquo;



Why wood boats are better

There are compelling arguments in favour of preserving and reviving the wooden boat-building tradition. Younas Anwar, a representative of the Gwadar Fisherfolk Community, points out the inherent advantages of wooden boats. &ldquo;Wooden boats are eco-friendlier, they are more seaworthy, provide greater storage for fish, nets, and food supplies, and tend to keep cooler under the sun,&rdquo; he says. Not only do they offer more comfort for crews during long journeys, but they also rely on lower-powered engines that result in reduced noise pollution and fuel consumption compared to their fibreglass counterparts.

While fibreglass boats are often equipped with high-powered engines (sometimes using engines as high as 85hp), which can disrupt marine life and scare away fish, the traditional wooden boats maintain a quieter, more sustainable mode of operation. Given these benefits, Anwar suggests that a hybrid model combining a wooden interior with a fibreglass-coated hull and deck could potentially balance tradition with modern requirements by reducing overall weight and increasing durability.

Changing landscape

&ldquo;Our records show that out of the 16,000 registered boats, the majority have been replaced with fibreglass variants,&rdquo; warns Asmat Ullah, deputy director of statistics with the Balochistan Fisheries and Coastal Development Department, explaining that the transition to fibreglass boats is proceeding at an alarming rate. &ldquo;In addition, some 20,000 small fibreglass speedboats operate under temporary registration or not at all, having been largely imported from Iran.&rdquo;

This transition has led to the near disappearance of wooden boats at several major fish landing sites, signaling a critical need for intervention. However, a glimmer of hope comes from the recent efforts of the Gwadar Development Authority (GDA). Nadir Baloch, a senior official with the GDA, noted that comprehensive planning has been undertaken to support the traditional wooden boat-building industry in Gwadar. &ldquo;We have developed an extensive plan to revive this invaluable cultural and economic asset,&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;This plan has been shared with the Government of Balochistan for further execution, reflecting a sincere commitment to preserving the heritage and livelihood of our coastal communities.&rdquo; The GDA&rsquo;s initiative is being closely watched as a potential model for similar revival efforts across other affected regions.

Fibreglass boats, despite being modern and faster, come with their own set of technical challenges. Ali Akbar, an engine mechanic with extensive experience along Balochistan&rsquo;s coasts, explains that about 80 percent of the repair work in his workshop is dedicated to fiberglass boats. &ldquo;Issues such as recurring failures of ring pistons, gear shifts, and bearing problems are common in fibreglass vessels, requiring frequent maintenance. Wooden boats, in contrast, with their low-speed engines and robust construction, are far less demanding in terms of upkeep.&rdquo;

What fishermen say

For many fishermen, the choice between wooden and fibreglass boats is not just a matter of tradition, but one that affects daily livelihoods. &ldquo;Our boat consumes around 400 litres of fuel per month, whereas a fibreglass speedboat easily uses up to 1500 litres,&rdquo; shares Salman, a skipper and owner of a 21-foot wooden boat from Gaddani. In rough seas, the stability and weight of our wooden boat make it far safer. Our crew enjoys greater comfort with ample space to sleep, cook, and socialise factors that directly impact our efficiency and well-being.&rdquo;

However, Salman also voiced concerns over the disruptive impact of fibreglass boats. &ldquo;These modern vessels, with their high-powered engines and noisy operations, not only scare away fish but also sometimes cause physical damage by cutting our nets. Their presence undermines the traditional way of fishing and the associated ecological balance.&rdquo;



A call to action

The traditional wooden boat-building industry in Balochistan is far more than just an economic activity it represents a living heritage. It encapsulates the expertise, cultural identity, and resilient spirit of coastal communities that have honed their craft over countless generations. If this tradition fades away, the loss will be felt not only in economic terms but also as a profound cultural erosion.

To reverse this alarming trend and prevent further decline, a multi-pronged and immediate response is imperative. The provincial government, in coordination with GDA and fisheries departments, must introduce subsidies and low-interest loans to support wooden boat builders. Designating modern boat-building yards equipped with the necessary tools, safety measures, and cooler, shaded work areas could catalyse the revival of the industry. Launching targeted training programs is essential. These programmes should focus on transferring the specialised skills of veteran artisans to younger generations. By emphasising both preservation and innovation, there is an opportunity to merge traditional craftsmanship with modern technologies. Stricter regulations are needed to control the unregulated import and registration of fibreglass boats, especially those entering from Iran. Enforcing compliance with fisheries ordinances will help stabilise the market and protect local industry standards. Encouraging research into eco-friendly hybrid boat models could maintain the benefits of wooden boats, such as quiet operation, fuel efficiency, and crew comfort, while improving durability and reducing weight. Such innovation could bridge the gap between tradition and modern regulatory requirements. It is crucial to raise public awareness about the environmental, cultural, and economic importance of traditional wooden boats. Exhibitions, media outreach, and community events should highlight this legacy as a vital component of regional identity.

The comprehensive plan presented by the Gwadar Development Authority, as noted by Nadir Baloch, is an exemplary model of what coordinated governance can achieve. With the support of the Government of Balochistan, such strategies need to be extended to other coastal regions to ensure that the revival of this sector is both scalable and sustainable.

If decisive action is not taken, the wooden boat-building tradition may soon vanish from the coastal landscape, leaving behind a void that no modern alternative can fill. The loss of this industry would mean not only the disappearance of a distinct craft but also a fragmentation of the cultural identity and heritage of Balochistan&rsquo;s coastal communities.

The revival of the traditional wooden boat-building industry represents a multifaceted challenge that demands the collaboration of local communities, government bodies, and private stakeholders. It is an urgent call to preserve a legacy that is as historically and culturally significant as it is economically vital. By investing in modernised facilities, ensuring fair labour practices, regulating fibreglass imports, and implementing forward-thinking hybrid models, there remains hope that this dying craft can be restored to its former glory and continue to be a cornerstone of Pakistan&rsquo;s coastal economy.

All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the writer

Shabina Faraz is a freelance journalist and contributor

Abdul Rahim is an environmental journalist and conservationist specialising in biodiversity and coastal ecosystem research, with extensive experience in field environment management and scientific studies

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			<title>Why Pakistan's border closure is squeezing Afghanistan's economy</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2577676/fractured-ties</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2577676/fractured-ties#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 16 Nov 25 00:47:24 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Shahbaz Rana]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2577676</guid>
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				<![CDATA[As fresh attacks test Pakistan’s limits, the country turns to its most powerful leverage — its borders]]>
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				<![CDATA[After the collapse of Istanbul dialogue and two terror attacks on its soil originating from Afghanistan, Pakistan&rsquo;s any likely decision to simultaneously exercise the options of blocking across the border human and trade movement and flexing security muscles can compound Kabul&rsquo;s woes and build internal pressure on the regime to normalise ties.

According to trade statistics, Afghanistan exports to Pakistan were equal to 45 percent of its total exports in 2024, making Islamabad the single largest trading partner. Kabul&rsquo;s heavy dependence on Islamabad and given its landlocked country status, the western neighbour has limited alternatives to suddenly find a sustainable market for nearly half of its exports.

From its southeastern, south and eastern sides, Afghanistan uses three border crossing points to sell its goods to Pakistan. These are near to its farm produce and make Pakistan an economically viable option to sell fresh fruits, vegetables and dry fruits.

According to Pakistan Customs, Kabul exported Rs170 billion worth of goods to Pakistan through these border crossings in the fiscal year 2024-25. Over 70 percent of the goods were sent via the Torkham border, followed by one-fifth from Ghulam Khan and the rest through Kharlachi point.

After the closure of the borders due to unrest and grave security situation, farmers in Afghanistan are in pain because of huge financial losses. Afghanistan&rsquo;s perishable exports like fresh fruits, vegetables, and dry fruits are dependent on short-distance, low-cost transport to Pakistani markets. Diversion through other countries makes such exports less competitive due to longer transit and higher risks of perishable goods being rotten. There is also a lack of cold storage facilities to transport perishable goods to long-distance sea ports.

Realising the situation and to avoid losses, Afghan exporters are still making desperate attempts to reach Pakistani markets through alternate routes. Pakistan Customs on November 8th blocked the import of Afghan-origin goods via Iran by misusing the Early Harvest Programme. The attempt was made to use the Taftan post from the Iran side.

The Pakistan Customs did not permit the entry of the consignment into Pakistan on the grounds that the early harvest programme was aimed at providing mutual benefits to the farmers of both the countries on a bilateral and reciprocal basis. However, no trade was taking place between Pakistan and Afghanistan as the borders remained closed.

The Customs also denied the entry of Afghan-origin goods on the grounds that there was a potential risk of misuse of the early harvest facility, as similar consignments can be imported from Iran under the guise of Afghan origin, given that both countries produce comparable fresh fruits such as grapes and apples, which are also covered under the Early Harvest Programme.

If Pakistan does not open its borders and also restrict Afghan citizens&rsquo; movement, the interim government may not have many options in the short term. The alternative routes through Iran are Chabahar port and Hairatan&ndash;Termez, Torghundi&ndash;Serhetabat in Central Asia.

These corridors face high transportation costs, weak infrastructure, and complicated regional politics. Thus, despite tensions, Pakistan would remain the most viable and cost-effective trade corridor for Afghanistan in the foreseeable future.

The Afghan interim government this week expressed the desire to opt for alternate trade routes but it may not be able to provide those opportunities to its exporters in the short-to-medium term.

The Iranian routes are longer and more expensive, resulting in higher transportation and fuel costs compared to the Pakistani corridors. Kandahar and Helmand regions are about 150&ndash;300 kilometre from Pakistan&rsquo;s Chaman&ndash;Spin Boldak borders but 1,200&ndash;1,300 kilometer to Iran&rsquo;s Zaranj or Delaram borders.

Likewise, Balkh and Baghlan are roughly 500&ndash;700 kilometer from Pakistan&rsquo;s Torkham-Jalalabad borders and 900&ndash;1,000 kilometer from Iran&rsquo;s Islam Qala.

Alternate routes would substantially increase transport charges, ranging from 30 &ndash; 50 percent. Where Afghan farmers are facing problems, Pakistani transporters were also having less earning opportunities due to closure of the borders.

The growing number of Afghanistan-bound cargo stuck up in Pakistan despite the closure of international borders after skirmishes highlight the landlocked Kabul&rsquo;s dependence on Pakistan amid its desire to look for alternate routes.

According to Pakistan Customs, Afghanistan-bound over 5,500 containers have been stuck either on roads or at Karachi port. About 4,650 containers were stuck at the sea and land ports after the Pakistan Customs stopped their processing due to closure of international borders.

Pakistan has not suspended the Afghanistan Transit Trade Agreement but it was not processing the goods clearance due to closure of borders to avoid congestion at Chaman and Torkham borders. There were 729 containers stuck up at Chaman border and another 142 at Torkham border.

Pakistan made many positive gestures on the fronts of trade, humanitarian assistance, educational and medical visa facilitation, and efforts at international forums to encourage the international community to engage with the Taliban regime in the interest of regional peace and stability, and for the socio-economic development of Afghanistan and its people.

But the response from the Taliban regime has only been hollow promises and inaction and the excuse that it cannot take action against the terror outfit. If the situation does not improve, Pakistan could also think about other economically punitive measures, including demanding bank guarantees against transit cargo.

Pakistan has suffered immense military and civilian casualties, exercised maximum restraint and did not retaliate, according to Pakistan&rsquo;s Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

However, now the indicators are that the maximum restraint may not be an option any more.

Pakistan&rsquo;s Foreign Office said that the Taliban regime was constantly trying to misrepresent the issue of Pakistani terrorists hiding in Afghanistan as a humanitarian issue. In the aftermath of Pakistan&rsquo;s Operation Zarb-e-Azb in 2015, terrorists belonging to the so-called TTP/FaK fled to Afghanistan.

The recent terror attacks at Judicial Complex, Islamabad, which killed over 12 innocent civilians, and an attack on a Cadet College in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa could prove the last straw in the camel&rsquo;s back.

According to the Pakistani authorities Sajid ullah alias Shina, who was the handler of the suicide bomber, confessed that TTP commander Saeed ur‑Rahman, alias Dadullah, a resident of Charmang, Bajaur who is currently living in Afghanistan and serving as the TTP&rsquo;s intelligence chief for Bajaur&rsquo;s Nawagai, contacted him via the Telegram app and instructed him to carry out a suicide attack in Islamabad in order to inflict maximum damage on law‑enforcement agencies.

Dadullah sent Sajid ullah (Shina) the pictures of the suicide bomber, Usman, alias Qari, so that he could receive him in Pakistan. The suicide bomber, Usman (Qari), belonged to the Shinwari tribe and was a resident of Achin, Nangarhar, Afghanistan.

The traces of attack on Cadet College are also found in Afghanistan by the security agencies.

Pakistan&rsquo;s former ambassador to Kabul, Mansoor Ahmad Khan, argued in Express News show, The Review, the government can use the three options of restricting movement of people, trade and using security means to put pressure on the regime to take action against the terrorist outfit. But he emphasised upon the need of trying to reopen the dialogue with Afghanistan.]]>
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			<title>Trump's nuclear testing threat revives Cold War fears</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2577679/back-to-the-brink</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2577679/back-to-the-brink#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 16 Nov 25 01:09:09 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Hamza Rao]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2577679</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[The chill of the twentieth century’s defining conflict settles over the twenty-first]]>
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				<![CDATA[US President Donald Trump&rsquo;s decision to restart US nuclear weapons testing, after a three-decade hiatus, has left allies anxious, adversaries alert and arms-control experts warning that even a hint of renewed testing could unravel a decades-old global taboo.

Announced via a Truth Social post, Trump claimed he had instructed the rechristened Department of War to begin testing &ldquo;on an equal basis&rdquo; with Russia and China.

While it remains unclear what exactly the infamously ambiguous Republican leader meant by &ldquo;nuclear testing&rdquo;, analysts sensed he appeared to conflate missile tests &mdash; which the US already conducts without live warheads &mdash; with explosive warhead tests, which no major power has undertaken since the 1990s.

The confusion over terminology has fuelled concern that Trump&rsquo;s vague order could open the door to full-scale explosive tests.

Around the world, security experts and officials warn that resuming nuclear tests would be a destabilising step with far-reaching consequences. &ldquo;Any explosive nuclear weapon test by any state would be harmful and destabilising for global non-proliferation efforts and for international peace and security,&rdquo; Robert Floyd, head of the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty Organisation in Vienna, told Reuters.

UN Secretary-General Ant&oacute;nio Guterres likewise admonished that &ldquo;nuclear testing can never be permitted under any circumstances&rdquo;, invoking the &ldquo;disastrous legacy of over 2,000 nuclear weapons tests carried out over the last 80 years&rdquo;.

The legacy is grim: before the 1992 moratorium, nuclear blasts devastated environments and human health &mdash; from irradiating Pacific atolls to spreading cancer-causing fallout among downwind communities.

Breaking the decades-old taboo on testing now could unravel one of the key norms that has helped restrain the arms race since the Cold War&rsquo;s end.

Security analysts believe that the US stands to gain little &mdash; and much to lose &mdash; by ending the test moratorium.

Daryl Kimball of the Arms Control Association has warned that &ldquo;foolishly announcing [an] intention to resume nuclear testing&rdquo; could &ldquo;trigger a chain reaction&rdquo;.

However, if history is any guide, such ambiguity is itself perilous. If rivals interpret Trump&rsquo;s words as a green light for actual warhead tests, security experts stress that it needs immediate clarification to avoid worst-case responses. Allies and adversaries respond to signals, not intentions.

Meanwhile, Trump&rsquo;s testing gambit has rattled both America&rsquo;s allies and its adversaries. In US-allied capitals, the reaction has been one of dismay. European leaders and arms-control experts stress that a return to testing by the US would undermine global security &mdash; and they are urging Washington to step back.

&ldquo;Trump&rsquo;s thoughtless remarks on resuming nuclear tests deal another blow to the fragile multilateral disarmament architecture,&rdquo; says Jana Baldus of the European Leadership Network, noting that with Russia already de-ratifying the Test Ban Treaty, &ldquo;any US move towards renewed testing would further weaken it and risk reigniting new arms-race dynamics&rdquo;.

She argued that European states must reaffirm the Comprehensive Nuclear-Test-Ban Treaty (CTBT) as &ldquo;central to international security&rdquo; and press the US to remember the &ldquo;enduring costs of nuclear testing&rdquo; before political posturing destroys one of the key pillars of arms control.

Similarly, a former NATO arms-control official, Lukas Kulesa, cautions that any US test would &ldquo;significantly undermine the nuclear taboo&rdquo; and erode non-proliferation norms.

Russia&rsquo;s response was immediate and blunt. The Kremlin pointedly reminded Washington that no country (aside from North Korea) has broken the global testing moratorium since 1998, and vowed Moscow would not be the first to do so &ldquo;unless others do so first&rdquo;.

The mirrored escalation comes as no surprise &mdash; Putin had already engineered Russia&rsquo;s withdrawal from CTBT ratification in 2023, precisely to &ldquo;put Russia on par with the US&rdquo; legally.

China, for its part, reacted with public urging for US restraint. Beijing formally called on Washington to &ldquo;earnestly fulfil its obligations under the CTBT and honour its commitment to suspend nuclear testing&rdquo;.

Beyond great powers, other nations have fiercely criticised Trump&rsquo;s move as dangerous nuclear brinkmanship. Iran, a nation perennially accused by the US of nuclear ambitions, blasted Trump&rsquo;s testing directive as &ldquo;regressive and irresponsible&rdquo;, denouncing the US president as a &ldquo;nuclear-armed bully&rdquo;.

Coming just months after US airstrikes hit Iranian nuclear facilities in June this year amid heightened tensions, Trump&rsquo;s actions reinforce Tehran&rsquo;s view of Washington as an aggressive hegemon using its nuclear might to intimidate weaker states.

Iran&rsquo;s leadership even warned that it would rebuild nuclear sites and redouble resistance in the face of US threats.

&nbsp;

Cold War Memories

Trump&rsquo;s push to restart nuclear testing has revived memories of the Cold War, when the US&ndash;Soviet arms race took humanity to the threshold of annihilation. Nuclear testing was the backbone of that build-up.

The United States and USSR carried out more than 1,500 tests, each explosion convincing the other that falling behind was not an option. In 1961, Moscow&rsquo;s 50-megaton &ldquo;Tsar Bomba&rdquo; &mdash; the largest ever &mdash; signalled sheer destructive power on a scale the world had never seen.

The brinkmanship reached its most dangerous point in 1962. The Cuban Missile Crisis pushed both powers to the edge of nuclear war and finally forced a reckoning.

President John F. Kennedy and Premier Nikita Khrushchev, anxious to cool the tinderbox, negotiated the Partial Test Ban Treaty in 1963, banning tests in the atmosphere, outer space and underwater. It still allowed underground tests, but it curbed global fallout and marked the first serious attempt to impose restraint.

A year after the Cuban standoff, Washington and Moscow moved to formalise that restraint with the treaty, yet underground detonations continued for decades. Still, something had shifted: the logic of arms control had begun to take hold.

By the early 1990s, with the Cold War collapsing, the push to end testing gathered momentum. In 1992, President George H.W. Bush declared a unilateral US moratorium. The last American nuclear detonation &mdash; &ldquo;Divider&rdquo; at the Nevada Test Site &mdash; took place that September. Four years later, the Comprehensive Nuclear-Test-Ban Treaty emerged, aiming to outlaw all nuclear explosions.

The US signed it, but the Senate refused to ratify it, leaving the treaty in limbo.

Even so, a powerful norm formed. Apart from North Korea&rsquo;s periodic tests, no state has conducted a nuclear explosion since 1997. The informal ban has held for 33 years, sustained as much by diplomatic pressure as by legal obligation. India and Pakistan, despite not joining the CTBT, have refrained from testing since 1998.

Crucially, the long pause was not driven solely by goodwill. By the 1990s, the United States had already conducted 1,054 tests &mdash; more than any other nation &mdash; and its scientists, possessed vast data on warhead behaviour.

With advanced modelling and subcritical techniques, US labs could verify reliability without detonations. In effect, Washington could afford to stop because it had already tested so extensively.

Ending live tests preserved America&rsquo;s qualitative edge while slowing others from catching up. US advocacy for the CTBT was, in part, an attempt to lock in that advantage.

The test-ban regime has thus served both global stability and US strategic interests. For three decades, it has kept the world from sliding back towards the Cold War&rsquo;s cycle of escalation, making the current revival of testing rhetoric all the more dangerous in historical light.

Against this backdrop, Trump&rsquo;s testing directive appears historically tone-deaf and strategically short-sighted. It seems to ignore the hard-earned lessons of the Cold War: that unchecked arms competition and nuclear one-upmanship can bring the world perilously close to annihilation.

In essence, resurrecting a Cold War-era practice now, amid a far more complex multipolar rivalry, risks replaying the darkest chapters of the 20th century &mdash; but this time without the robust arms-control frameworks that eventually reined things.

&nbsp;]]>
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			<title>The wealth and wounds of Dublin’s Guiness family</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2577686/the-wealth-and-wounds-of-dublins-guiness-family</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2577686/the-wealth-and-wounds-of-dublins-guiness-family#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 16 Nov 25 01:44:41 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Fouzia Nasir Ahmad]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[Entertainment]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2577686</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[In House of Guinness, Steven Knight turns 19th-century Dublin into a living, breathing character]]>
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				<![CDATA[When Steven Knight set out to dramatise the making of Ireland&rsquo;s most famous drink, few expected him to stir such potent contradictions. House of Guinness is not just a period drama about ale and ambition &mdash; it&rsquo;s a story about class, faith, and the uneasy marriage between profit and conscience.

To create a soap opera around history on streaming platforms, elements such as sensationalism, and exaggeration of historical events, provocative or low-quality production values appealing to voyeuristic tendencies, and the development of over-the-top, scandalous narratives involving conspicuous consumption, excess, and the blurring of taste and vulgarity are used often with elements of resourcefulness from lower-income communities woven in. The goal is to attract a large audience through provocative content and a style that is intentionally sensational or shocking. Some call it trashy, but audiences lap it up.

Our taste for historical series with formulaic elements that make them extremely popular has developed over years with House of Cards, Downton Abbey, Bridgerton [and it&rsquo;s off-shoots], Alias Grace, and Peaky Blinders to name a few shows.



The definition of &quot;sensational historical drama&quot; changed over time, with older shows fitting the criteria less perfectly than newer hits. Some were based on novels and some not. Many series and seasons later, Netflix and its audiences got exhausted with the content around the British Royalty and the Victorian era and moved on to Europe. We were dished out The Cook of Castamar and The Leopard which were liked and offered a European setting as opposed to British, but somehow didn&rsquo;t make it to the charts sparking off a culture [and a cult] around them, the way the earlier shows did. Now with Netflix&rsquo; latest offering in this genre, we are back in Britain, in Ireland to be more precise. 

The series is about the heirs to the Guinness brewing company in the late 1800s. The Guinness family still exists and continues to be one of Ireland&#39;s wealthiest dynasties, with an estimated net worth of &pound;856 million ($1.15 billion). The show is an eye-opener to their power and wealth for five generations and how dominant the brewery was back before the days of contract breweries and globalisation. But were they as eccentric as Knight (Peaky Blinders), the show&rsquo;s creator depicts them? We know that Knight likes his characters to be vibrant.

The show however is making headlines because it fabricates much of the real family&rsquo;s life to tell a more TV-friendly story. &ldquo;What I had to do is take things that these family members did, things that they said, achievements they made, mistakes that they made, and use them as stepping stones,&rdquo; says Knight in an interview. &ldquo;I had to fill in the gaps myself.&rdquo;



Every episode starts with the disclaimer &lsquo;This fiction is inspired by true stories,&rsquo; which leaves the audience to decide what is true and what may not be. Audiences are generally used to a little bending of the truth with most historical fiction. Likewise, in House of Guinness, Knight invents a lot of criminal and political intrigue to add to the family&rsquo;s story. He borrowed from his experience on Peaky Blinders to make inferences from historical texts, as well as conversations with living Guinness descendants. But not all of the Guinness descendants appear pleased with the result.

&ldquo;All the characters come straight from a bingo card of modern clich&eacute;s about rich people,&rdquo; says Molly Guinness, Edward Guinness&rsquo;s great-great-granddaughter, in an op-ed for The Times, calling Netflix drama &ldquo;unjust.&rdquo;

Apart from a few, most characters in the show are real historical figures from the Guinness dynasty and events largely took place in 1860s Ireland. According to history, Arthur Guinness, the Guinness founder, began brewing his iconic stout in the mid-18th century, securing the site of St James&rsquo;s Gate in Dublin in 1759 at &pound;45 per year for 9,000 years.

Soon he built a reputation for a darker beer called porter, which by the late-18th century was being produced on a scale that made Guinness one of Dublin&rsquo;s largest breweries. The mid-19th century saw further leaps in scale, with steam power, industrial efficiency and strict quality control giving Guinness an edge over his competitors.



By the time of Sir Benjamin Lee Guinness&rsquo;s death in 1868, with his funeral widely considered the most elaborate send-off ever held in Ireland, Guinness was Ireland&rsquo;s largest brewery, and the Guinness family was one of the most wealthy and influential in Ireland.

The family was, as the show establishes as an important factor, Protestant. But even then, by the 1860s, the brewery was employing thousands of Dubliners, mostly Catholic. During the mid-1800s, Ireland &ndash; then under British rule &ndash; was still shaped by a ruling class known as the Protestant Ascendancy that had dominated Irish politics and its economy since the 17th century.

This group consisted largely of Anglo-Irish Protestants, such as the real Guinness family, controlled most of the wealth, land, and influence in Dublin. They held key positions in government, law and banking, even though they represented only a small minority of the population. Their dominance in many ways stemmed from longstanding restrictions on Catholics, and even though many such restrictions had been dismantled after Catholic Emancipation in 1829, social and economic effects lingered.

The Fenians were members of a late 19th-century Irish nationalist movement advocating for an independent Ireland, founded by Irish-American and Irish exiles in the 1850s. Comprised of secret organisations like the Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB) in Ireland and the Fenian Brotherhood in America, they sought to achieve a democratic Irish republic through armed struggle. While their attempts at a rising in Ireland failed, they conducted raids into British Canada in the 1860s and 1870s. In the show, the Fenians were represented by characters like Ellen and Patrick Cochrane. The Fenian conflict with the Protestant Guinness family, who were seen as allied with the British, fuelled the political tensions and served as a backdrop for the show&#39;s drama, which depicted the Fenians as supporters of the working class and potential threats to the brewing business.

On one side is the luxury life of the Guinness protagonists, their fancy butlers, maids, gowns, well-bred horses, fancy carriages and lavish meals and means, in stark contrast with rural Ireland, on the other side, barely a decade on from one of the most devastating famines in history, and still suffering its effects.

&ldquo;As potato crops failed again and again from 1845&ndash;51, at least one million people died, many in lonely, hideous and degrading conditions,&rdquo; writes historian Padraic X Scanlan in BBC History Magazine. &ldquo;At least 1.5 million more emigrated.&rdquo;

&ldquo;The people of Ireland had endured periods of starvation before, but they had encountered nothing on the scale of what we remember today as the Great Famine,&rdquo; says Scanlan.



The situation was made worse by inconsistent intervention by the British government. Though there were some relief attempts under the governments of both Robert Peel and his successor Lord John Russell, the bruising reality was that homegrown corn and other healthy food stocks continued to be transported out of Ireland for English markets, even during the unusually long and harsh winter of 1846/47, when death tolls in Ireland soared.

House of Guinness portrays the lingering effects of the Great Famine, such as mass emigration and economic hardship, leading to political unrest and push for Irish independence. Throw in some water, malted barley hops, yeast, copper, oak fire, family, money, rebellion, power with elegant ballroom dances, weddings, palace intrigue, love, revenge, painful poverty, and challenges of persecution of individuals based on sexual orientation, and you have a show that audiences will lap up, and eight episodes are not enough to satiate the appetite.

Different from chamber orchestra compositions of the Downton Abbey or even the contemporary themes mixed in as seen in Bridgerton, the sound track of this series is simply amazing and worth streaming on its own. British composer Ilan Eshkeri (Layer Cake and SAS: Rogue Heroes) known for his concert music, films scores and artist collaborations worked alongside Steven Knight to transform the period drama into something modern and viscerally emotional using a variety of compositions from dramatic crescendos to Celtic rock. The soundtrack weaves tradintional Irish folk melodies with darker, more contemporary songs that reflect the political tensions simmering beneath Victorian Dublin&#39;s surface. The sound track represents Knight&#39;s vision of 1870&#39;s Dublin, for the music embodies swagger, rebelliousness, raw and loud energy, and the fight against oppression, tyranny, restrictions and limitations.

Knight also uses a more contemporary style of captions boldly written in caps across the screen for names of places and dates as well as for astounding comparisons and conversions of money value from then to now.

The Netflix series may not have won over the entire Guinness family just yet, but it&rsquo;s winning with viewers. After the first season premiered, Netflix locked down Steven Knight to a deal for two seasons of a Peaky Blinders sequel and three more seasons are in the offing to take the Guinness family right up to the 1960s. Knight doesn&rsquo;t seem to be leaving the 1800s Dublin anytime soon.]]>
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			<title>The rise of Farmverse on Roblox</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2576581/the-rise-of-farmverse-on-roblox</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2576581/the-rise-of-farmverse-on-roblox#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 09 Nov 25 01:35:56 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Fozia Bora]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2576581</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[A game that turns virtual farming into a movement for real-world resilience.]]>
			</description>
			<content:encoded>
				<![CDATA[During the recent flooding which led to a devastating situation leading to despair, the fragility of traditional, large-scale agriculture was laid bare. This widespread disaster severely devastated fields, farms, farmers, and agricultural produce across rural areas, highlighting a profound systemic vulnerability. It was yet another challenge for the entrepreneurial sibling duo, Nabhan and Kenan Khan, who remained driven during the pandemic.

Once again, the duo, operating under NiK&amp;KiN Design Studios, put on their thinking caps and came up with a digital response: Farmverse. This immersive experience, now in Open Beta on the Roblox platform, is a powerful vehicle for social change and a definitive proof point of their long-standing commitment to leveraging tech for social good. They designed Farmverse to create resilience amongst the masses by helping them adopt and deploy positive habits and techniques to cultivate small farms and kitchen gardens to develop a sense of belonging, shared responsibility and participation to contribute to the food basket of the country in a sustainable manner. They have taken their mission to make the world a better place and address fundamental issues like climate change, resilience, and food scarcity through the playful, accessible world of virtual farming. Their track record includes the development of the acclaimed &quot;STOP the SPREAD,&quot; the world&rsquo;s first experiential learning game focused on public health during the pandemic, alongside the branding and campaign of TECH desiNATION Pakistan to promote tech sector of Pakistan around the world along with initiatives in global virtual robotics, STEM/STEAM learning, and the creation of the &quot;National AI Policy GPT,&quot; a bilingual groundbreaking tool to democratise and invite public participation to complex governmental policies.





Climate change, urban gardening and the UN SDGs

The conceptual foundation of Farmverse is rooted in a clear, actionable mission: to address several of the United Nations&rsquo; Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), particularly those focused on Zero Hunger, No Poverty, Quality Education, and Climate Action. The inspiration for a gardening-focused game grew directly from the developers&rsquo; own hands-on experience with urban gardening.

In a world increasingly dominated by concrete structures, they decided to deploy their past experience in regenerative agriculture, knowhow in agri-tech, sustainable farming and kitchen gardening and began experimenting by utilising overlooked urban spaces, specifically rooftops, to cultivate their own produce. This personal endeavour quickly revealed the transformative potential of simple, decentralised food production, especially when combined with resourcefulness, such as repurposing discarded materials like old water bottles for irrigation and planting. This practical experience provided an authentic, grounded perspective that would later be digitised into the Farmverse experience.

The alternative they envisioned was a massive, decentralised empowerment campaign. Instead of depending solely on faraway commercial farmlands, individuals&mdash;particularly youth, women, and children&mdash;could be equipped with the knowledge and motivation to achieve a degree of self-sufficiency through &quot;Kitchen Gardens&quot; at home. Farmverse serves as the digital incubator for this movement. It gently, but effectively, nudges players toward a sustainable mindset by making the act of growing food, saving water and resource mobilisation intrinsically rewarding and enjoyable. To secure the food basket and bolster localised food production, the game encourages a mindset shift towards urban kitchen gardening as a lifelong skill, accessible to anyone, regardless of their physical proximity to traditional farmland.

Promoting sustainability

A game&rsquo;s success is measured not only by its noble intentions but by its ability to hold a player&rsquo;s attention. Farmverse excels by skillfully blending community interaction with rewarding, well-paced game aesthetics and mechanics.

From the moment a new player claims their virtual plot of land, they are immersed in a world of positive choices. The core loop involves selecting from a diverse catalog of seeds or instantly gratifying options like fully grown flowers, raising happy chickens that lay fresh eggs, and expanding their agrarian empire by selling produced goods at the virtual marketplace. This market loop provides tangible, in-game feedback, turning work into immediate, observable progress.

However, the key distinction in the Farmverse model lies in its innovative approach to time. Unlike many hyper-addictive games that demand constant presence, crops in Farmverse continue their growth cycle even while the player is offline, as it happens in the real world.

This mechanism is a deliberate design choice that rewards natural consistency in farming and foresight over compulsive participation. It teaches players about the natural cycles of growth and the value of patience, fostering a healthier relationship and engagement with the community digitally. This design philosophy aligns perfectly with the overarching mission: to model purposeful, responsible, and sustainable behaviour, not just create a frantic simulation.

Beyond the agrarian cycle, the game is designed to be a crucible for positive human connection. Features like the ability to purchase and gift flowers to other players are not mere embellishments; they are programmatic tools designed to build community and actively counteract the negativity and animosity so prevalent in many online environments. The developers argue that this simple, virtual act of kindness, rooted in the shared experience of gardening, helps players feel grounded and serves as a powerful antidote to a polarised world. It is a subtle, yet effective, psychological intervention that promotes friendship and a plant-based, green and healthy lifestyle ethos over digital hostility.

The technical leap

The duo&#39;s previous projects, like the AI Policy GPT, demonstrated their focus on accessibility. With Farmverse, their greatest technical challenge was the language barrier on a global platform.

The primary target market for the game includes Pakistan, where an estimated 150 million young people&mdash;a vast demographic representing roughly 60% of the population&mdash;are often more fluent and comfortable in Urdu than in English. Critically, the Roblox platform, while globally dominant, lacked native, comprehensive Urdu support. This absence threatened to make a mission-driven game inaccessible to the very audience it was designed to empower.

The designers did not wait for the platform to adapt; they built the bridge themselves. They engineered a custom, single-click translation syst em that dynamically converts the entire in-game text from English to Urdu. Nabhan described the formidable technical hurdles: &quot;We thought, okay, let&#39;s go around it and we&#39;ll build some kind of a script which will actually make all the text in Urdu.&quot; It was &quot;extremely difficult&quot; and required coding solutions to integrate an orthographically complex language seamlessly into the platform&rsquo;s interface.

The impact of this feature is twofold. First, it immediately opens the game to a massive, underserved, and highly engaged audience who can only understand Urdu. Second, as Kenan points out, it embeds an educational function: &quot;If the players want to switch to English, they will understand what these words mean and they will catch some English.&quot; This cross-linguistic exposure subtly encourages English language learning, transforming playtime into an immersive, low-pressure bilingual environment. Moreover, this innovation provides a critical counter-argument to the scepticism many parents hold towards gaming, demonstrating that digital play can be a powerful medium for educational and skill development, effectively bridging a cultural and linguistic divide that often restricts youth engagement.



Tapping into Roblox&#39;s ecosystem

Farmverse is leveraging a platform that has achieved truly global scale and demographic balance. Roblox&#39;s official data for Q2 2025 confirms its immense global footprint, with Total Daily Active Users (DAUs) reaching 111.8 Million&mdash;an impressive figure that confirms the platform&#39;s ability to reach a massive audience.

The data highlights several key demographic opportunities that directly benefit Farmverse&#39;s mission:

Global spread: The platform&#39;s fastest and largest growth region is Asia-Pacific (APAC), which accounts for 31.8% (35.6M DAUs) of the global player base. This confirms the immense potential for the Urdu localisation feature to capture a rapidly expanding audience in South Asia, a critical area for the game&#39;s social impact goals.

A mature, balanced audience: While historically viewed as a children&#39;s game, the audience is rapidly aging up. 63.5% of DAUs are 13 years or older, with the 18+ age group comprising the largest segment at 41.3% and is highly receptive to the complex, purpose-driven narratives and soft-skills simulation that Farmverse offers.

Gender parity: The platform maintains a highly balanced user base, with 44% of DAUs identifying as female and 51% as male, making it an ideal environment to empower women and children, a key goal in the game&#39;s foundational mission to promote self-sufficiency through &quot;Kitchen Gardens.&quot;

This definitive data serves as a compelling proof point: Farmverse is not just an idea; it is a meticulously designed movement that has been successfully launched onto one of the world&#39;s most massive, demographically balanced, and fastest-growing digital stages, turning qualitative vision into verifiable global reach.

The impact

The core of the Farmverse vision is its commitment to quantifiable real-world impact. The developers have structured this mission around what they term &quot;six levels of awesomeness,&quot; a framework designed to ensure that the virtual experience translates into tangible, positive outcomes. These levels focus squarely on driving three key objectives: awareness, activity, and mindset change.

The model is financially and ethically transparent: a percentage of the proceeds generated from in-game donations is directly channeled to fund charitable initiatives. These initiatives are specifically designed to equip children and people from less privileged backgrounds with essential life skills, providing them with the tools and knowledge necessary for self-sufficiency that the game champions in principle. This direct correlation between virtual support and real-world results transforms the player base into a community of active social activists and philanthropists.

This impact architecture extends to the promotion of essential sustainable practices. As part of the gardening initiative, the game actively teaches and promotes safe water practices, such as rainwater harvesting. By integrating these lessons into the resource management mechanics, players instinctively learn about conservation and efficiency, skills that are immediately applicable to real-world environments facing water scarcity challenges.

Furthermore, Farmverse is an interactive educational tool for the UN SDGs, with specific in-game elements mapping to global objectives:

No Poverty: Through self-sufficiency and resource management

Zero Hunger: Focus on food production and crop diversity

Climate Action: Through sustainable practices and resource conservation

The developer duos&#39; vision is not merely to create an engaging experience, but to establish Farmverse as a central platform for measuring positive impact, offering a new model for verifiable corporate and social responsibility reporting.

Forging the future

The entrepreneurial duo are actively pursuing a robust partnership strategy designed to integrate Farmverse into the broader economic and social ecosystem. Their outreach is broad, targeting a diverse spectrum of organisations, from local agricultural alliances like the Pakistan Agriculture Coalition (PAC) to major food and agriculture sector companies, and even influential global institutions such as FAO, the Asian Development Bank, the IDB, and the World Bank, to name a few. The partnerships are based on a multi-prong strategy: to gain expert insight into agricultural best practices, to secure funding for real-world charitable initiatives, and to validate the game&rsquo;s impact metrics on a global scale. It proves that gaming can be a measurable force for genuine, quantifiable social good.

This ecosystem strategy is built upon a philosophy articulated by Kenan: &ldquo;We have invested our own time, energy and effort to make this game, however with your generous donations, we can equip these children with essential skills and support our vision of people, planet, plants, positivity, prosperity, and purpose. Together, we can reach millions and make a meaningful impact. We have played our part, it&rsquo;s time for you to do yours by playing and supporting Farmverse.&rdquo; This mantra encapsulates their belief in a synergistic model where commerce, charity, and creative play reinforce one another to drive a collective positive outcome.

The philosophy 

Farmverse is underpinned by a profound philosophy on mental health and social well-being. The game&rsquo;s gentle pace coupled with simple and effective UI/UX and nature-focused content are designed as a therapeutic counterpoint to the high-stress, negativity-driven echo chambers that define much of modern digital interaction.

In a world, where rates of anxiety and digital-fatigue are escalating, virtual gardening is seen as a form of &quot;digital grounding.&quot; Research shows that engaging with gardening activities, whether real or virtual, can have a calming, soothing effect, helping to lower stress and reconnect individuals with the rhythms of nature. Farmverse provides a safe, accessible environment for players to engage in the restorative act of cultivation. The encouragement of shared positive interaction through gifting and teamwork is a deliberate effort to spread positivity and friendliness, displacing the hostility and animosity that taints many online interactions.

The broader vision is for the game to be adopted by schools and colleges. Since the experience is completely free to play, it represents an accessible, low-cost tool for integrating practical lessons on gardening, environmental stewardship, and sustainability into the academic curriculum. The team hopes that educators will utilise Farmverse to allow students to &lsquo;get their hands in the soil and seeds&rsquo;&mdash;metaphorically connecting with nature in a safe, fun, and deeply educational setting.

Nabhan and Kenan Khan have managed to design a product that commands attention by offering genuine value. Farmverse is more than a game; it is a meticulously designed movement that proves technology can be harnessed not for distraction, but for meaningful societal progress.

The Farmverse experience is available for free now on the Roblox platform. You can begin growing your farm and contributing to this global movement today: https://farmverse.blogspot.com

The writer is a curriculum developer and educator with over 30 years of experience in child development, psychology, and extensive experience integrating technology and gameplay into learning

All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the writer]]>
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			<title>The legend of Adam Khan and Durkhanai</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2576585/the-legend-of-adam-khan-and-durkhanai</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2576585/the-legend-of-adam-khan-and-durkhanai#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 09 Nov 25 02:18:23 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Furqan Ali]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2576585</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[Part romance, part tragedy, this retelling of Pashtun folklore weaves together music, militancy, and forbidden longing]]>
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				<![CDATA[Escape me?

Never &mdash;

Beloved!

While I am I, and you are you &hellip;

&mdash;Robert Browning (Life in a Love)

While researching for his book Warrior Poet: The Life, Times, and Legacy of Khushal Khan Khattak, the author Changez Jan came across the folklore of Adam Khan and Durkhanai. This legend, also known as the &ldquo;Pashto Romeo and Juliet,&rdquo; exists in many forms and versions, and was first recorded in heroic couplets in the 17th century. After travelling through the undulations of time, it resurfaced in later works such as The Bazaar of the Storytellers (1986). Jan decided to synthesis the multiple versions into The Legend of Adam Khan and Durkhanai, a novella that tells a tale of love and loss.

Adam Khan, the protagonist &mdash; a masterful warrior and the destined successor of his father, Malik Hassan Khan, the tribal chief &mdash; is also a redoubtable rabab player. His heavenly compositions and tappais, his blue eyes, full lips, and single dimple on the right cheek earned him the title of &ldquo;Prince of Dreams&rdquo; among the maidens of Bazdara (Swat). Nonetheless, this warrior-musician falls for the silhouette of a figure seen only in dreams: &ldquo;In my dreams, she comes to me. When I see her, it feels as though she is real.&rdquo;

He feels agony, anguish, and longing for this concealed, and perhaps imagined, beloved. But soon, he learns that his wishful mirages may not be entirely unrealisable. Through a lively visitor, Gulo Jan, he hears of Durkhanai &mdash; the daughter of Malik Taus Khan of Upper Bazdara. Malik Taus, who deeply loved his wife, lost her during childbirth, leaving behind the muse who would inspire Adam&rsquo;s prosody.

Durkhanai was no ordinary girl. Despite living in a deeply patriarchal society, she was remarkably educated, reading not only the Quran but also Makhzan by Akhund Darwezah, a treatise by a disciple of Pir Baba written against the Sufi practices propagated by the Roshaniyya movement), and Daftar of Sheikh Malli, &mdash; the record of land distribution among the Yousafzai &mdash; both texts mentioned in Khushal Khan Khattak&rsquo;s poetry.

This intellect and beauty, as envisioned by Adam and vouched for by Gulo Jan, with the mole on her left cheek, the faint scar on her forehead, and that electrifying grace, made Durkhanai the cr&egrave;me de la cr&egrave;me of damsels for Adam Khan. &ldquo;If you take one look at her, you will be ensnared&hellip;&rdquo; says Gulo, while meandering in the ocean of her top-notch beauty.

But Adam was not the only one captivated by her beauty. Tales of Durkhanai&rsquo;s charm, even without experiential acquaintance, had already charmed Payo Khan &mdash; the young son of Malik Gul Khan, a wealthy and influential chieftain of Upper Bazdara. Wealthier than the fathers of both Adam and Durkhanai, and therefore more powerful, Payo Khan had already, through his father, betrothed Durkhanai, thus winning the competition for her hand, in the sense of traditional Urdu poetry,

What follows is an impasto of twists and turns, each ending in a fallout, tragic, haunting, but beautiful. The highs include a brief rendezvous &mdash; just a glance exchanged, and yet a fall so hard, born of the illusions of dreams &mdash; at the wedding of her friend who lived in Lower Bazdara, Baskai, Durkhanai&rsquo;s childhood companion. There, our young rabab player was mesmerising the audience, and especially his beloved. &ldquo;Durkhanai knew he was not there to celebrate the wedding; he was there to celebrate her!&rdquo;

After the toll of the wedding and the physical affliction of the encounter, another enthralling moment follows: the first meeting of the two lovebirds, made possible through the assistance of Mirwais, one of Adam&rsquo;s two best friends, the other being Bahlol. Mirwais distracted the household servants, allowing Adam to slip through the window toward his beloved. This little stint &mdash; a tender, romantic one &mdash; had an overwhelming and truly enchanting effect on the reader. Now, for Adam &mdash; the musical genius whose melodies could make birds sway like godly psalms &mdash; was now fully drenched and chained in his beloved&rsquo;s clutches. For him, there were now only two divinities: &ldquo;Yo Allah aur Yawa Durkhanai&rdquo; [One Allah and one Durkhanai].

This created havoc in the grapevine, compelling Payo to prepone the wedding. Sadly, Malik Gul Khan and Adam, his father, and his friends became warring rivals. Adam&rsquo;s descent began right from the very start, he lost his beloved, became deranged, joined the yogis, and ultimately met with his death. This tragic news devastatingly led to the immediate death of Durkhanai.

All of this unfolds in a remarkably intricate manner, especially through the use of a meta-story &mdash; the entire narrative being a story within a story &mdash; and through skillful use of similes, metaphors, and imagery, a notable feat for a first-time writer of a novella.

Further, beneath this linear storytelling lies a complex web of Pakhtunwali, the code of Pakhtun life and its guiding principles: hospitality, revenge, and sanctuary. These betrayals ultimately lead to tragedy upon tragedy and failure upon failure for the protagonist, his beloved, and even the raqeeb or archrival.

The principle of hospitality is breached when Mirwais exploits it for Adam Khan, posing as a guest in Durkhanai&rsquo;s home. The principles of revenge and sanctuary are violated together when Adam Khan, his father, and Durkhanai seek Nanawatai which is a sanctuary or a Pashtun tradition in which the weaker seek refuge and protection from the powerful) in the house of Malik Mir Mai. Ultimately, Payo Khan, by offering wealth to Malik Mir, entices him to betray that sanctuary &mdash; allowing Durkhanai to be taken away from her home. This betrayal, axing both the codes of revenge and sanctuary, triggered a chain of chaotic events culminating in the tragic slaying of Bahlol.

The legend of Adam Khan and Durkhanai is a timeless meditation, at times reminiscent of Hermann Hesse&rsquo;s Siddhartha, on the human heart and its defiance, devotion, and destruction when pure love collides with the rigid codes of honour and tradition. In the shadow of muskets and bows, love rises tender yet rebellious, only to be consumed by the very forces it seeks to transcend.


More than a romance, it is a tragedy of a people bound by valour yet undone by vengeance. Reviving a folklore that still breathes in the highlands of Swat and the Pakhtun valleys, the novella tells a tale where music meets militancy and affection wages war against fate, reminding us that even under the weight of customs and codes, love remains humanity&rsquo;s most beautiful rebellion: fragile, fatal, and unforgettable.

&nbsp;

All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the writer

Furqan Ali is a Peshawar-based researcher who works in the financial sector. He can be reached at alifurqan647@gmail]]>
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			<title>From scratch to silicon: Pakistan’s race to design chips</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2576588/from-scratch-to-silicon-pakistans-race-to-design-chips</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2576588/from-scratch-to-silicon-pakistans-race-to-design-chips#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 09 Nov 25 02:30:50 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Suhail Yusuf]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2576588</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[FAST-NU to global recognition, Pakistani engineers are quietly scripting a new chapter in silicon innovation]]>
			</description>
			<content:encoded>
				<![CDATA[From smartphones to aircraft, the miniature, delicate, and tiny microchips drive nearly every possible aspect of today&rsquo;s life. In 2025, terms like chip wars and rare minerals dominated global headlines, while on the commercial scene Nvidia became the world&rsquo;s first $4 trillion company &mdash; a fabless chip design company that does not manufacture a single integrated circuit.

For Pakistan, the fabless approach &mdash; designing chips and outsourcing manufacturing to third parties rather than building costly factories &mdash; could open the door to technological and economic transformation. But where should the country begin, and what has been achieved so far? The Express Tribune visited FAST-NUCES Integrated Circuits Design (ICD) Lab in Islamabad, the nation&rsquo;s first IC design and training centre, to find out.

A humble start

The bright corridors of the ICD Lab are lined with research posters and prototypes, vividly showcasing the professional journey of Dr Rashad Ramzan and his team.

A graduate of UET Lahore, Dr Rashad&rsquo;s chip design work began in the VLSI labs at Ohio State University. His academic path continued with an MSc in Electronics Engineering from the Royal Institute of Technology, Stockholm, in 2003, and a subsequent doctorate from Link&ouml;ping University. He has worked in the industry and academia related to chip design for over 25 years, in Pakistan, Sweden, Germany, the USA, and other international locations.

In 2018, he returned to Pakistan and joined FAST-NU, where he began teaching microelectronics, RF circuits, electromagnetics, and PCB design &mdash; initially to just ten MSc students, from a single room.

&ldquo;We only had one room in 2018 that functioned as both our lab and office, and we had just one research assistant. Despite that, I was certain this technology is absolutely necessary for Pakistan, and that it would succeed. Now, by the Grace of God, the doors have opened for us,&rdquo; said Dr Ramzan.

Like the early dream behind FAST-NU &mdash; which started with banker Agha Hasan Abedi&rsquo;s Rs100 million endowment in the 1980s &mdash; FAST&rsquo;s IC journey began small but grew steadily. While chip design was once a niche discipline, it is gaining momentum now.

Why fabless is the way forward

Starting a commercial microchip fabrication facility (fab) in Pakistan is exceptionally difficult.

&ldquo;A commercial fab requires the combination of dozens of highly specialised technologies. On the infrastructure side, it needs uninterrupted 24/7/365 electricity and immense quantities of clean water,&rdquo; explains Dr Ramzan. &ldquo;On the technical side, the facility must house multi-billion-dollar equipment, including advanced photolithography machines, etching, and ion implantation setups. This equipment requires precision mechanics, an ultra-clean room environment, and complex vacuum equipment to maintain functionality. Operating all this requires a highly specialised workforce of process engineers and technicians drawn from over sixty specialties, including civil, mechanical, electrical, chemical, optical, and vacuum technology, to name just a few.&rdquo;

Lastly, the challenge lies in securing a stable global supply chain for the rare minerals, chemicals, and metals necessary for production.

&ldquo;To sell the product, access to the global market is the final hurdle, alongside the intense competition one will face with established giants in the market,&rdquo; he adds. &ldquo;However, we can design chips, which is a very promising approach.&rdquo;

Fabricating chips for commercial use is far out of reach for Pakistan. Only a handful of companies dominate this space, led by Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company (TSMC), which holds 70 per cent of the global market and produces advanced 5nm and 3nm chips for Apple, Nvidia, and AMD.

By contrast, Nvidia is entirely fabless: a knowledge-driven company that designs GPUs. They have now launched specialised, advanced processors for AI. They focus solely on design, outsourcing all manufacturing to foundries like TSMC.

Dr Ramzan initially saw the potential for Pakistan to seed a knowledge base in 2009, but without success, he briefly moved to the UAE. When he returned in 2018, national organisations like NECOP were seeking trained IC design engineers. Consequently, FAST and NECOP joined hands and started the first MS programme in IC Design in Pakistan. Twenty-four engineers were selected from seven thousand graduates for this programme, successfully laying down the foundation and knowledge base for IC design in Pakistan.

&ldquo;Now the field is much more level worldwide compared to the past. All you need is brainpower, computers, software, hope for the future, and political will,&rdquo; he said.

Chip design

In the UAE, between 2012 and 2018, Dr Ramzan combined teaching with hands-on research, securing dozens of US patents and gaining international experience. But he stressed that theory alone is not enough.

&ldquo;Only theory in the area of IC design is not enough,&rdquo; he says. Just as you cannot be a good surgeon by only reading anatomy books, training from experts is essential.&rdquo;

International visibility

In 2021, the International Solid-State Circuits Society (SSCS) established the annual Platform for IC Design Outreach (PICO), an international integrated circuit (IC) design contest. The lab has been a consistent participant in this competition and, to date, has secured 17 out of the 44 projects awarded globally. This achievement represents more than 30 per cent of the total awards, with the remaining distributed among other leading microelectronics academic institutions from the US, France, South Korea, Egypt, Brazil, and others. This gave the lab international visibility and expanded its reach substantially.

Breakthrough with GSME

Years of groundwork paid off when the US-based Global Semiconductor Micro Electronics (GSME) approached FAST to train engineers for their design centre in Oman. Competing against training firms from different countries, FAST-NU won the contract. This was an end-to-end training programme for 100 engineers in Oman that included theory, hands-on microchip design, manufacturing from TSMC, and final testing &mdash; all necessary for a real IC designer.

Students followed a strict routine: lectures in the morning, lab work in the afternoon. After a year, they successfully designed and developed nine projects manufactured on two 65nm CMOS dies from TSMC. The same team went on to establish Oman&rsquo;s first chip design centre, which has been running smoothly for the last three years.

Encouraged by the success, GSME agreed to fund the creation of a design centre at FAST-NU.

&ldquo;This centre, GF-METRC, is now fully operational and actively supporting the industry with multiple successful tape-outs,&rdquo; reveals Dr Ramzan.

Training the next generation

Initially, NECOP and FAST-NU collaborated to start the training programme, which was later funded by GSME in 2023.

&ldquo;We faced a dry period for a couple of years, and we feared that the programme would close. During that time, the flame was kept alive by bare-minimum funding provided by our generous friends and expatriates, especially the alumni of UET Lahore.&rdquo;

Most recently, things have become more favourable, as the government has at last realised the importance of this work. In 2025, crucial funding was secured from the Ministry of Information Technology (MoIT) through IGNITE, and 33 engineers are currently being trained in a one-year programme leading to an MS in IC Design. The Pakistan Software Export Board (PSEB) has also announced a short training programme.

In 2018, Pakistan had just one microchip-design verification company whereas now there are at least 18 in Karachi, Lahore, and Islamabad. FAST-NU alone has produced over 100 IC design specialists in Pakistan, with a few pursuing PhDs abroad and the rest fuelling local firms.

The manpower challenge

While progress is evident, scaling remains a hurdle.

&ldquo;Any multinational chip design company that comes to open a design centre here needs 1,000 to 1,500 engineers. Pakistan currently has only about 1,000 engineers in this field. To become a global attraction, like Vietnam &mdash; which is a popular destination for IC design companies &mdash; we must have a pool of 10,000 engineers so that a company like Nvidia, AMD, or TI can select 10 per cent from this pool and open a design centre here. We are still far from that threshold,&rdquo; shares Dr Ramzan.

Pakistan boasts talented expatriates, including senior executives at AMD and Altera. But until the talent base at home expands, attracting global chip firms remains difficult.

Legal gaps in IP protection

Another major obstacle is intellectual property (IP). Pakistan lacks an IP culture and specialised lawyers in these deep-tech areas.

&ldquo;We need strict and well-defined laws because patents can be worth millions,&rdquo; says Dr Ramzan.

Innovations and patents

Despite challenges, the lab has secured several US patents across advanced technologies, ranging from low-cost vaccine monitoring systems and electronic fuel sensors to 5G/6G duplexers. These innovations demonstrate that design-led growth is possible &mdash; provided the missing pieces of the jigsaw puzzle are in place.

&ldquo;If Pakistan wants to explore high-tech fabless chip design, it must begin by establishing design centres and providing deep, super-skilled training specifically targeted to the needs of those particular design centres. This is essential to avoid generating jobless experts and to encourage start-up companies. Our government must abandon the Soviet model and instead enable and empower the private sector, focusing on organic growth that is deeply rooted in society,&rdquo; says Dr Ramzan.

Teaming up

Microchip design is teamwork, not a solo journey. Just as billions of transistors work together in perfect harmony for your mobile or laptop to function &mdash; it&rsquo;s teamwork. The work you see here is the result of hundreds of engineers collaborating over the last seven years. The initial team members &mdash; including Dr Hassan Saif, Muhammad Omar, Hamza Attique, and Ali Sabir, among others &mdash; worked tirelessly and round the clock towards a single vision.

The unconditional support of the Head of Department, the entire EE department, the campus director, and particularly Dr Waseem Ikram and Dr Aftab Maroof, has been instrumental throughout this journey. Their unwavering commitment exemplifies the collaborative spirit and supportive culture that define FAST-NU.

The roadmap

Pakistan&rsquo;s journey into chip design may have started humbly, but it is gathering pace. With growing expertise, partnerships, and new companies in the private sector, the country is edging closer to establishing a foothold in the global semiconductor race.

Yet without stronger IP laws, greater and more focused investment in manpower, empowerment of the private sector, and sustained political will, progress risks stalling. The seeds of innovation have been sown &mdash; but the harvest depends on how Pakistan nurtures and retains its young talent.


All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the writer

&nbsp;]]>
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			<title>Songs of solace</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2576584/songs-of-solace</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2576584/songs-of-solace#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 09 Nov 25 01:50:28 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Munaj Gul Muhammad]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2576584</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[Thaheer Production is carving a cultural sanctuary for Balochistan’s children and artists]]>
			</description>
			<content:encoded>
				<![CDATA[Crafting compositions and creating space for children&#39;s participation in music, Thaheer Production has been shaping a much-needed revolution in Balochi literature since 2016, amidst the snow-capped mountains of Quetta and the elegant landscapes of Balochistan.

The Balochi word &ldquo;Thaheer&rdquo; means &ldquo;solace.&rdquo; Fittingly, Thaheer Production&rsquo;s artistic creations and compositions offer comfort to listeners of all ages in the region. It was co-founded by Farooq Baloch and Azam Baloch, with Obaid later joining the production company. Azam Baloch is a mixer and Obaid a guitarist, and both use their creativity to enhance the sound of each project.

&ldquo;Our most important aim is to generate a platform for Baloch singers and artists to contribute uniquely to Balochi music,&rdquo; says Azam Baloch. &ldquo;Balochistan is full of young talent, but the raw talent needs refining. Our kids are far behind in the Balochi language, and such inventive work is not taught in schools.&rdquo;

Thaheer Production hopes to showcase the creative arts and compositions of young people from across the vast province of Balochistan. Baloch is concerned that while little children recite English nursery rhymes, they have no clue about Balochi poetry. For this reason, the Thaheer team has decided to include Lab and Lacha on their platform, in order to introduce music to a wider group of children. &ldquo;Children must sing Balochi poems in school and learn the Balochi language,&rdquo; says Baloch.

&ldquo;Music and literature are two different things, and we would like to see young people in Balochistan become familiar with their provincial language, music, and literature,&rdquo; says Baloch. &ldquo;We take inspiration from our society and culture to create themes for songs and videos based on our cultural needs. While documenting the Danko project, we filmed a site and displayed our cultural items through video, connecting everything to music. Lyrics, I believe, are the soul of music.&rdquo;

Discussing the meaning of Thaheer, Baloch explained, &ldquo;It means relief and solace, so dancing, music, culture, and art must aim to provide that. We are proud to be producing such music for our listeners.&rdquo;

The team is working to develop and streamline foundational learning in the field of music so that, in future, children can use their talent to earn money as regional singers. Baloch believes that the music industry lacks meaningful struggle and structure to nurture such growth. &ldquo;We are planning to shape Thaheer Production into an institution where children can learn modern forms of music and literature,&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;Learning, not copying, is the source of creativity. That&rsquo;s why we want Thaheer Production to be a school for children to study creative work.&rdquo;

&ldquo;We use a variety of instruments in our music, such as the soroz, drums, banjo, tamborag, codes, and guitars &mdash; so that everyone can enjoy the lyrics and understand the music,&rdquo; Baloch continues.

&ldquo;Many people still love Man shapan roch, mahan saal kana, our first effort composed in 2017,&rdquo; shares Baloch. &ldquo;Our journey into music has since produced many tunes and compositions for our audience.&rdquo;

It is true that their audience inspires them to create even more beautiful music. For Thaheer, this is a journey filled with love and passion for Balochi literature. In a short period of time, they have produced a variety of compositions that are popular across Balochistan. They work not for profit but out of love and devotion to Balochi literature &mdash; producing fewer, but unforgettable, compositions.

Thaheer Production has become the home of every Baloch artist, offering people &mdash; especially children &mdash; a place to turn to whenever they need solace and food for the soul.

Farad Fida is a bright young singer with a pleasing voice who sings Balochi song covers and uploads them on TikTok.

&ldquo;My son frequently sings and everyone loves to hear him,&rdquo; says Fida&rsquo;s father, who wants his son to formally learn music.



In Balochistan, where there is a lack of government support and ongoing financial crisis, Thaheer Production provides aspiring artists a platform to sing and encourages them to pursue artistic opportunities in music and literature &mdash; irrespective of gender.

Sainkal and Horo Horo from the Laib Lacha series are beautiful songs performed by Keegad Baloch, Sadganj Baloch, Banadi Baloch, and Seemak Baloch &mdash; young children who are making powerful contributions to Balochi music.

&ldquo;My father taught me how to sing,&rdquo; says Keegad Baloch, Obaid&rsquo;s daughter and the singer of the Laib Lacha series. &ldquo;He is my only role model in all aspects of life because he sincerely inspires and supports me. It is his encouragement that allows me to participate in school programmes related to music.&rdquo;

Sadganj Baloch, another child who performs alongside Keegad, became interested in singing after listening to her.

&ldquo;We are grateful to Thaheer Production because this platform has encouraged and nurtured us,&rdquo; says Banadi. &ldquo;It gave us a unique opportunity to enhance and showcase our talents.&rdquo;

The gratitude expressed by these children reveals that Thaheer Production does more than just create music. It helps people find comfort from pain and suffering, preserves culture, and gives voice to those who otherwise remain unheard.

All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the writer

The writer is a lawyer based in Turbat, Balochistan. He tweets @MunajGul , and can be reached at munaj1baloch@gmail.com.]]>
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			<title>Trump rings in dawn of multipolar world</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2576591/trump-rings-in-dawn-of-multipolar-world</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2576591/trump-rings-in-dawn-of-multipolar-world#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 09 Nov 25 02:38:26 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Hamza Rao]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[World]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2576591</guid>
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				<![CDATA[US president’s ‘G2’ overture to Xi shows US can no longer ignore China’s equal standing]]>
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				<![CDATA[In an extraordinary turn in global politics, US President Donald Trump emerged from his summit describing it as a &ldquo;G2 meeting&rdquo; &mdash; a rare and striking admission from an American leader that Washington and Beijing now stand shoulder to shoulder on the world stage.

The remark could mark a decisive shift in international relations. Even if his statement has yet to solidify into policy, it unmistakably mirrors the geopolitical reality of the present.

Trump&rsquo;s boast on social media that &ldquo;My G2 meeting with President Xi of China was a great one for both of our countries... everlasting peace and success&rdquo; signalled top-most acknowledgement of the end of the unipolar world order long dominated by the United States.

Both leaders struck an optimistic tone at the Busan summit, heralding a potentially tactical detente after years of trade wars and tension. President Trump praised the meeting as &ldquo;amazing&rdquo; and lauded President Xi as a &ldquo;tremendous leader of a very powerful country&rdquo;, even rating their talks &ldquo;a 12 out of 10&rdquo; in success.

By invoking the &ldquo;G2&rdquo; concept, Trump implicitly seemed to have accepted what had already become reality: the post-Cold War unipolar moment, in which the US reigned as sole superpower, has reached its close, giving way to a more contested distribution of power.

Economist C. Fred Bergsten first outlined the G2 concept in 2004, envisioning it mainly as an economic framework. The idea gained traction during the 2008 global financial crisis, when China&rsquo;s sweeping stimulus not only stabilised its own economy but also propped up global demand, establishing Beijing as an indispensable pillar of the world economy.

The shift did not occur overnight. Even voices in Washington concede that America&rsquo;s solo supremacy was an aberration of the post-Soviet 1990s. As US Secretary of State, and a prominent conservative, Marco Rubio admitted, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s not normal for the world to simply have a unipolar power&hellip; that was an anomaly&hellip; eventually you were going to reach back to a point where you had a multipolar world, multi&ndash;great powers in different parts of the planet&rdquo;.

Moreover, Trump&rsquo;s own Secretary of War Pete Hegseth even proclaimed that US-China ties &ldquo;have never been better&rdquo; after the Busan summit, touting &ldquo;peace through strength, mutual respect and positive relations&rdquo;. 

Such language of &ldquo;mutual respect&rdquo; and parity marks a dramatic departure from the era of American &ldquo;sole superpower&rdquo; triumphalism. It strikingly hews closer to how China itself frames major-power relations.

For much of the past decade, Washington viewed China through a confrontational lens. Trump&rsquo;s own first term was defined by a trade war, blunt rhetoric about China as a threat and attempts to &ldquo;decouple&rdquo; critical technologies. 

However, the mixed results of those policies may have prompted a recalibration. Beijing proved more resilient than expected as it responded to tariff pressure by doubling down on openness to other partners and upholding the global trading system, countering US protectionism by working with other countries to shore up the WTO and multilateral trade

Detente in a Multipolar Era

A lasting accommodation between the US and China is a question of global stability. Together, the two nations make up around 40 per cent of the world&rsquo;s GDP, command the largest military budgets and anchor the frontiers of technology and innovation. 

However, their rivalry in recent years has cast a long shadow over global growth and security.

Easing this tension would bring immense gains. Both countries have a shared interest in ing a modus vivendi and a practical coexistence that keeps peace and prosperity intact. 

Experts note it will not be easy and uncertainty will remain as many thorny issues remain unresolved, but the greater danger lies in refusing to try.

History&rsquo;s warnings are unambiguous. From the outbreak of World War I to the nuclear brinkmanship of the Cold War, great-power clashes have produced devastation far beyond what any leader foresaw. In today&rsquo;s nuclear-armed and deeply interdependent world, a war between Washington and Beijing would be catastrophic &mdash; shattering economies, destabilising nations and endangering millions of lives.

By one count, 12 out of 16 such power transitions in the past five centuries ended in bloodshed. Political scientists refer to this risk as the &ldquo;Thucydides Trap&rdquo;. 

However, Last year, President Xi Jinping stressed that the Thucydides&rsquo; Trap was not a historical inevitability.

&ldquo;It is important to have a correct strategic perception,&rdquo; President Xi had said when meeting with the then US president Joe Biden on the sidelines of the 31st APEC Economic Leaders&#39; Meeting in Lima, Peru.

A new Cold War should not be fought and cannot be won, he said, adding that containing China is unwise, unacceptable and bound to fail.

Aside from preventing war, pragmatic cooperation between Beijing and Washington can yield global benefits across a range of issues. Economically, if the two largest markets work in tandem &mdash; or at least stop trying to undermine each other &mdash; they can anchor global financial stability and growth. 

At their Busan meeting, Presidents Trump and Xi reportedly reached agreements on fentanyl precursors, rare earth minerals and increased Chinese purchases of US farm goods. These are modest but tangible steps toward easing friction and rebuilding trust. 

Analysts note that ending the trade war and tech disputes would remove major drags on global growth. As China resisted unfair terms and held its ground, it now stands better positioned to drive the world&rsquo;s economic recovery, a gain not only for China, but for all.

No major global challenge can be addressed without US-China cooperation. 

On climate change, as the world&rsquo;s two largest carbon emitters, both must collaborate to achieve meaningful progress on emissions, clean energy and international accords, as they did ahead of the 2015 Paris Agreement. 

The same applies to pandemics, nuclear non-proliferation and regional stability from the Korean Peninsula to the Middle East. Covid-19 showed how shared data and joint research, however delayed, ultimately accelerated vaccine development. Future health crises will demand even closer coordination.

A stable US-China understanding would also temper the rising &ldquo;bloc&rdquo; mentality that forces others to take sides. Many in the Global South reject a zero-sum great-power rivalry and seek a balanced order allowing trade and development with both Beijing and Washington.

When the two cooperate, smaller states gain space for growth, a vision central to President Xi&rsquo;s initiatives for global peace and development.

To sustain such an arrangement, multilateral institutions must be strengthened. A genuine multipolar detente would see both powers reinforcing the United Nations, G20 and World Trade Organisation, rather than bypassing them. China&rsquo;s vision already champions UN authority and collective governance of global affairs.

For Trump, embracing multipolarity may defy instinct, but as the Busan summit showed, pragmatism can yield results.

In implementing these steps, Trump would actually be reviving a strain of realistic statecraft not unlike that of Henry Kissinger in the 1970s. Although Kissinger is a controversial figure, his opening to Mao&rsquo;s China was grounded in pragmatic acceptance of geopolitical realities.

The recognition of multipolarity is reminiscent of the balance-of-power diplomacy of past eras, updated for the 21st century. The key difference now is the level of interdependence]]>
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			<title>Smile, you’re being fined</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2576592/smile-youre-being-fined</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2576592/smile-youre-being-fined#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 09 Nov 25 02:38:36 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Nabil Tahir]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[Technology]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2576592</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[Karachi’s new e-challan cameras have turned chaos into caution, but can fear keep the city in line?]]>
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				<![CDATA[At Teen Talwar, rush hour used to feel like chaos that had long slipped out of control. Cars spilled over lane markings, crowding one another until even the zebra crossings disappeared beneath bumpers. Drivers turned right from the far-left lane, some edging past the red light. Motorcyclists zigzagged between cars, their engines whining as they pushed ahead of the signal. In the middle of it all stood a single traffic policeman, arms raised, whistle between his lips, trying to command a storm that refused to listen. For every driver who stopped, two slipped through the cracks. That was Karachi on a regular weekday, loud, restless, and always in a hurry, as if every car carried an emergency.

Today, the same junction moves differently. Even past midnight, cars wait patiently behind the white line, engines humming quietly, headlights reflecting off the rain-dusted road. Even when the signal malfunctions, they wait. Not for the policeman&rsquo;s whistle, but for the invisible lens fixed above them, the one that watches, records, and fines. The faceless eye that finally did what years of traffic sermons couldn&rsquo;t, make Karachi drivers wait for their turn.

Speed cameras now stand where the city once raced unchecked. The sudden calm on Shahrah-e-Faisal and the steady pace along Clifton Bridge tell their own story. The fear of an e-challan has done what civic sense never could.

But fear, in Karachi, never lasts forever. Just weeks into the system, people have already found ways around it, wearing shirts printed with seatbelt stripes, warning each other of camera points on WhatsApp, or fixing belts in old cars just for show. And as citizens adjust, traffic policemen, once comfortable with &ldquo;chai-pani&rdquo; settlements, find their pockets lighter and authority thinner.

For now, the roads are calm. But if the cameras blink, will the chaos return?

When the whistle was law

Before the cameras came, Karachi&rsquo;s traffic was ruled by men in uniform, not by machines. A warden&rsquo;s whistle was enough to pull drivers over, and his pen decided what came next. Fines were issued on the spot, sometimes for genuine violations, often for reasons that existed only in the officer&rsquo;s imagination. There was no way to challenge it, no formal appeal or digital record to prove innocence. You either paid what he wrote down or negotiated for less. In a city where time is always short and tempers shorter, most chose the latter.

The manual system made citizens powerless against arbitrary policing. Drivers were stopped at random; sometimes for speeding, sometimes for simply not slowing down enough to salute authority. Those who hadn&rsquo;t broken any law still paid a few hundred rupees just to avoid arguments or delay. Those with connections made a single phone call and walked away. Karachi&rsquo;s roads weren&rsquo;t governed by rules; they were governed by relationships.

DSP Traffic Sindh Kashif Nadeem admits that before the e-challan system, monitoring violations was entirely manual. &ldquo;Officers used to stand on the road, stop vehicles, and issue challans on the spot,&rdquo; he explained. &ldquo;Everything depended on their presence.&rdquo; The process, he said, was heavily reliant on manpower. &ldquo;There were about 5,000 people in total, and only 400 to 500 were actual challan officers,&rdquo; he said. Without cameras or automated systems, the entire city&rsquo;s enforcement depended on those few men positioned at major intersections.

It was a system that left too much to discretion. A driver&rsquo;s fate could change depending on the mood of the officer or the heat of the afternoon. And since there was little documentation, fines rarely deterred repeat offences. For the officers themselves, the work was physically demanding and morally exhausting, policing behaviour with limited staff, little oversight, and no real support from technology. &ldquo;This type of digitalisation was not tried before,&rdquo; Nadeem said. &ldquo;Now, at least, the system is automatic. People are still doing their duties, but the cameras make it easier to identify violations. This has helped us in fulfilling other duties to clear the roads during rush hours as we don&rsquo;t have to focus on the challans.&rdquo;

In many ways, the shift to automation has simply taken human bias out of the equation. Gone are the calls from &ldquo;someone important,&rdquo; the small payments slipped through open car windows, and the daily tug-of-war between authority and negotiation. For decades, Karachi&rsquo;s drivers had learned to work around the rules. Now, the rules work around them, quietly, invisibly, and without warning.

Life under the lens

Something strange has begun to happen on Karachi&rsquo;s roads. Cars that once treated lane markings as decoration now glide within them. Horns, once the city&rsquo;s background music, have softened. Even the evening rush on Shahrah-e-Faisal feels oddly synchronized, like a city that finally discovered cruise control.

Haroon, a corporate employee, noticed it one afternoon while driving his daughter home from school. &ldquo;Traffic was moving at a constant speed, no rash overtaking, no horns,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Then I realised it&rsquo;s because of the cameras. People are actually following the speed limits and staying in their lanes.&rdquo; In a city where drivers once changed lanes as if avoiding potholes were an Olympic sport, that&rsquo;s progress.

Fear, it seems, has succeeded where courtesy failed. Cameras mounted high above have done what no number of road safety campaigns ever could. Drivers now slow down at familiar intersections, brake near Clifton Bridge, and hold their breath while passing Nursery. It&rsquo;s less about traffic awareness, more about self-preservation.

Hassan, another car owner, believes this new order is born of discipline, but one rooted in hesitation. &ldquo;In the first week, it was pure fear,&rdquo; he laughed. &ldquo;Now people know where the cameras are. They only behave at the spots where they are installed. Once they start actually receiving challans, they&rsquo;ll take it seriously. But honestly, this system was needed. Karachi needed someone to make it sit straight.&rdquo; He paused, then added with a grin, &ldquo;Except motorbike riders, they&rsquo;re still on their own highway.&rdquo;

He&rsquo;s not wrong. For bikers, staying within the lines is less about rebellion and more about survival. &ldquo;Wearing a helmet is one thing,&rdquo; said Yousuf, a delivery rider. &ldquo;But driving in the designated lane? That&rsquo;s impossible. Buses and parked cars block it. We have to change lanes or we&rsquo;ll just stand there forever.&rdquo; For him, traffic rules feel like a luxury meant for those in air-conditioned cars, not those dodging exhaust pipes at arm&rsquo;s length.

Yet, not everyone on two wheels is reckless. Some have unexpectedly become the city&rsquo;s new moral compass. Sharing her recent encounter at a signal, Fouzia laughed and narrated: &ldquo;I was driving at normal speed when a motorbike rider came up and started saying something. I was furious, I thought he was being rude. I rolled my window down ready to scold him, and he said, &lsquo;Please wear your seatbelt, there are cameras ahead.&rsquo; I didn&rsquo;t know whether to laugh or thank him.&rdquo;

Moments like these are becoming increasingly common &ndash; tiny, human reminders that fear can sometimes lead to unexpected kindness. Karachi&rsquo;s drivers may not have turned into model citizens overnight, but they&rsquo;ve certainly learned to drive like someone is watching, because, for once, someone actually is.

Fear, fines, and frustration

For many Karachiites, the e-challan system arrived like a surprise guest.

Take the case of Adnan, a private company employee who earns Rs 50,000 a month. One morning, he received a challan at home for running a red light near Shahrah-e-Quaideen, a place he swears he hadn&rsquo;t driven through in weeks. &ldquo;At first I thought it was a prank,&rdquo; he said, holding the printed slip with the camera image barely showing his car&rsquo;s plate. He filed an appeal, visited the facilitation centre, and after days of waiting, the committee finally agreed it was a system error. The fine was cancelled, but the relief felt hollow. &ldquo;If someone earning fifty thousand has to pay twenty-five thousand for one challan, what will he eat?&rdquo; he asked quietly.

Political parties, too, have stepped into the debate. Jamaat-e-Islami has called for a review of the penalty structure, urging the Sindh government to &ldquo;bring fines in line with citizens&rsquo; financial capacity.&rdquo; Their representatives argue that the goal should be correction, not collection.

For some, this is accountability finally catching up with Karachi&rsquo;s long-ignored traffic culture. For others, it feels like collective punishment. The system is efficient, but the city it governs isn&rsquo;t. Old cars without seatbelts, mismatched registration data, and missing number plates mean honest drivers often pay the price for the government&rsquo;s own inefficiencies.

At a small workshop on Tariq Road, mechanic Asif has been seeing the change firsthand. &ldquo;Most models before 2005 don&rsquo;t have seatbelts,&rdquo; he said, wiping grease from his hands. &ldquo;Since this e-challan started, people have been coming daily to install them, not for safety, just for the camera,&rdquo; he said laughing softly. &ldquo;The cheap ones cost Rs 1,500. They&rsquo;re just for show. The proper ones, with working locks and retractors, cost around Rs 6,000-8000. But most people only want it to avoid the fine.&rdquo;

Because if there&rsquo;s one thing Karachi has always been good at, it&rsquo;s finding a way around the rules.

Karachi&rsquo;s street-level ingenuity

Karachi never runs short of it&rsquo;s creativity, especially when creativity helps you dodge a fine. The e-challan system may have taught drivers discipline, but it has also inspired a new kind of art form, the art of pretending to follow the rules.

Within weeks of the cameras blinking to life, the city&rsquo;s residents began experimenting. We can already see a T-shirt printed with a black diagonal stripe being sold online, a &ldquo;seatbelt&rdquo; design. A driver stitched an old bag strap across his chest to complete the look. A few went further, clipping a piece of tape across their torso right before a signal, removing it once they&rsquo;d passed the camera zone. On social media, people now trade these tricks the way they once shared traffic updates. &ldquo;Camera aagay hai, tape laga lo,&rdquo; has become the new &ldquo;Signal red hai!&rdquo;

Despite the humour, there&rsquo;s an unspoken irony in all of it. People aren&rsquo;t rebelling against safety; they&rsquo;re rebelling against surveillance. &ldquo;We follow rules only when the lens is watching,&rdquo; said a young commuter waiting at Shaeed-e-Millat. &ldquo;As soon as it blinks, we&rsquo;re back to being ourselves.&rdquo;

And yet, beneath the jokes, the tricks, and the taped-on seatbelts, Karachi is slowly learning restraint. But while citizens adjust to being seen, another group is quietly struggling to stay relevant. Inside the traffic department, the men who once ruled the roads are now being ruled by screens. And not everyone is taking it easily.

The men behind the monitors

For all the tricks citizens have mastered to dodge fines, the real story of control sits a few miles away, inside the TRACS Control Centre, the quiet heart of Karachi&rsquo;s new traffic order. Rows of monitors glow under white light, showing live feeds from hundreds of intersections. An officer on duty explained how the system runs. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s all camera-based. First, it detects your violation, then reads your number plate. That data is linked to the Excise Department. The violation, image, and time stamp go into our system, and an auto-challan is generated. Pakistan Post delivers it to your address,&rdquo; he said.

He pointed at a screen where a car had just stopped short of a red light. &ldquo;If someone believes a challan is wrong,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;they can file an appeal. On the back of every challan, there&rsquo;s a list of 11 facilitation centres. You visit any of them, your complaint is logged. A joint committee of police, CPLC, and traffic officers reviews it. If they agree it was an error, the challan is cancelled. Otherwise, it stands.&rdquo;

But even in automation, deadlines have teeth. If a violator pays within 14 days, they receive a 50 percent discount. Wait longer than 21 days, and the fine doubles. After three months, your driving licence is blocked. Leave it unpaid for six months, and your CNIC is suspended, an invisible penalty that can suddenly lock you out of banking, travel, or registration systems.

According to DSP Traffic Kashif Nadeem, Karachi currently has 1,076 cameras in operation, with plans to expand to 12,000. Since the launch in late October, more than 41,000 violations have been recorded. &ldquo;We don&rsquo;t have the total fine amount yet,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;because each violation has a different penalty, some 5,000 rupees, some 10,000 rupees, some 25,000 rupees.&rdquo; When asked about reducing the fines, he was clear: &ldquo;We don&rsquo;t have that authority. It&rsquo;s part of the Sindh Assembly&rsquo;s legislation. Only they can amend the law.&rdquo;

He also addressed concerns about cars registered outside Sindh, which currently remain outside the e-challan system. &ldquo;We are not in a position to issue a number plate for any other province&rsquo;s vehicle,&rdquo; Nadeem said. &ldquo;Punjab has been doing this for 10 years, and even they don&rsquo;t have our data. But now, it&rsquo;s become a government-to-government matter. All provinces are sharing their integration APIs, and very soon, vehicles from any province that violate traffic rules in Karachi will receive their challans through Pakistan Post.&rdquo;

But outside the control room, the story changes. On Karachi&rsquo;s roads, some officers quietly admit the system has disrupted more than traffic. &ldquo;If the authority of officers is taken away,&rdquo; said a sub-inspector stationed in Saddar, &ldquo;Our weekly system will collapse.&rdquo; Another officer added, &ldquo;E-challan may look professional, but it&rsquo;s ruining the internal workings of the traffic police.&rdquo; Since the faceless system began, several wardens have sought transfers to the district police.

DIG Peer Muhammad Shah confirmed the movement but dismissed the panic. &ldquo;Some officers have transferred, that&rsquo;s their choice,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;But a new order from the IG has frozen transfers for now.&rdquo;

Among the lower ranks, discontent lingers. &ldquo;We used to take Rs150 and let motorcyclists go. Now cameras don&rsquo;t miss anything,&rdquo; said an officer in Nazimabad. &ldquo;Sometimes, when someone didn&rsquo;t have money, we&rsquo;d leave them for a cigarette or chaaliya [betel leaf]. But now this will not happen.&rdquo; Another warden posted near Karsaz Flyover admitted, &ldquo;The real money goes higher up. What comes down to us are the abuses.&rdquo;

For the first time in years, Karachi&rsquo;s traffic police are following a system they don&rsquo;t control. The &ldquo;chai-pani&rdquo; culture has dried up, replaced by computer screens and printed receipts. Many officers now hope that someday they&rsquo;ll get handheld camera devices, a compromise between technology and touch, but until then, the city&rsquo;s roads belong to the lens.

Karachi&rsquo;s traffic has finally learned to wait, not out of patience, but consequence. The same streets that once roared with horns now hum with quiet hesitation. Cameras may have brought order, but not necessarily obedience and fear still sits where civic sense should. Yet, for a city long defined by chaos, even borrowed discipline feels like progress. Perhaps the e-challan system won&rsquo;t change Karachi overnight, but it has made every driver look twice before breaking a rule, and in this city, that itself is a small revolution.]]>
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			<title>Fragile Peace</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2575424/fragile-peace</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2575424/fragile-peace#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 02 Nov 25 05:29:50 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Sadia Sulaiman]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[Balochistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[Khyber Pakhtunkhwa]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
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			<description>
				<![CDATA[Talks in Istanbul offer fragile hope as mistrust, militancy, geopolitics threaten Pakistan-Taliban peace]]>
			</description>
			<content:encoded>
				<![CDATA[The latest negotiations round held in Istanbul, T&uuml;rkiye, from October 25th to 30th, 2025, between the Afghan Taliban and Islamabad ended with an interim understanding to implement the ceasefire that was earlier agreed in Qatar. Further technicalities of the interim understanding will be discussed in the next round of talks that will start on November 6th, 2025. The international mediation and continued dialogue for the past several weeks is a good omen; however, the prospects for successful dialogue and conflict resolution between Islamabad and the Afghan Taliban remain slim and unpredictable.

It is primarily due to deteriorating bilateral ties between the two neighbors since August 2021. Before T&uuml;rkiye and Qatar, China also made an effort to give peace a chance between the two neighbors in a series of trilateral talks, but to no vein. There are four principal factors that render the peace efforts between the two actors inherently fragile, thereby diminishing the likelihood of sustainable peace.

Firstly, Pakistan and the Afghan Taliban lack a shared understanding or unified stance on their principal point of contention &ndash; the issue of terrorism and the Taliban&rsquo;s support for the Fitna al Khwarj (Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) and Fitna al Hindustan (Balochistan Liberation Army (BLA).

Since 2021, Islamabad has kept on urging Kabul to take decisive actions against the TTP and BLA, citing the groups&rsquo; role in exacerbating Pakistan&rsquo;s security challenges, especially in the tribal borderland regions and the Balochistan province. Conversely, the Afghan Taliban claim that they do not exercise any kind of control over either TTP or BLA.

Especially, they have a soft corner for TTP, given their shared religious ideology and decades-long historical experience as insurgent movements. For such groups, the use of force &ndash; including acts of violence and terrorism &ndash; is often perceived as a legitimate tool of asserting their authority on the targeted population. This fundamental divergence in perspectives over the central issue significantly undermines the&nbsp;prospects for any substantive and lasting conflict resolution between Kabul and Islamabad.

&quot;The Afghan Taliban claim that they do not exercise any kind of control over either TTP or BLA. Especially, they have a soft corner for TTP, given their shared religious ideology and decades&rsquo; long historical experience as insurgent movements&quot;.

Secondly, the dialogue that commenced in 2025 after a deadly conflict between the two countries should ideally have begun in 2021, when the Afghan Taliban assumed power and the TTP, emboldened by the Taliban resurgence in Afghanistan, reactivated its operations and intensified terrorist activities in Pakistan.

Most importantly, both the neighbors needed to engage each other at different levels and platforms to negotiate various issues of mutual concern, such as border security and management, repatriation of refugees, counterterrorism and TTP&rsquo;s relocation from Afghanistan.

The prolonged delay and lack of will in such engagement between Kabul and Islamabad has further deepened the pre-existing trust deficit &ndash; a historical feature of Pakistan-Afghanistan relations largely rooted in the issue of Kabul&rsquo;s irredentist claims about the Durand Line. Instead of addressing ground realities and sources of trust deficit, both sides resorted to mutual accusations and blame shifting.

Consequently, these belated diplomatic efforts, following years of mistrust, will require substantial time and commitment to rebuild confidence &ndash; particularly, at the grassroots level, where communities on both&nbsp;sides of the border express a genuine desire for conflict resolution and confidence-building measures.

A third significant factor shaping Pakistan-Afghanistan relations is the complex geopolitical environment, particularly India&rsquo;s recent efforts to cultivate friendly ties with the Taliban regime in Kabul. The visit of Taliban&rsquo;s Foreign Minister, Amir Muttaqi, to New Delhi in October 2025 has been viewed by many as an Indian effort to diplomatically isolate Pakistan and create a two-front challenge that could strain Islamabad&rsquo;s strategic position and capabilities.

The broader South Asian region, and Afghanistan in particular, already face acute socio-economic hardships and political uncertainties and any such geopolitical maneuvering by India and Afghan Taliban can further destabilize the region, leading to severe development and human security repercussions.

It is imperative for India to recognize the fact that provoking the diplomatically and politically inexperienced Taliban will not confine the ensuing conflict and its repercussions to Afghanistan and Pakistan alone; rather, it will create long-term regional consequences that all states in South Asia will have to bear.

Lastly, peacebuilding, negotiation and conflict resolution require all parties to possess both the political will and diplomatic capacity to engage constructively. In the case of the Afghan Taliban, they appear to lack both. Their close association with TTP and other militant and insurgent groups undermines their willingness to confront and resolve the conflict with Pakistan, particularly given that the core of the dispute lies in the Islamic Emirate&rsquo;s continued logistical and political support for the TTP and BLA.

In terms of capability, the Taliban leadership also suffers from limited diplomatic exposure and training. The Taliban&rsquo;s political office in Qatar had previously demonstrated a degree of political maturity due to its sustained exposure and engagement with the international community that resulted in the 2020 peace deal between the US and the Taliban.

&quot;Most importantly, both the neighbours needed to engage each other at different levels and platforms to negotiate various issues of mutual concern such as border security and management, repatriation of refugees, counterterrorism and TTP&rsquo;s relocation from Afghanistan&quot;.

However, once the Taliban rank and file returned to power, they sidelined the leadership from the Qatar office, hence leaving&nbsp;its members with little influence over the Taliban&rsquo;s important decisions. The prominent role of Mullah Yaqoob &ndash; a former Taliban commander and current Defence Minister of the Taliban &ndash; in the first round of negotiations in Qatar indicated that the Taliban were approaching this issue from the position of power rather than with the element of diplomatic and political will and maturity &ndash; a factor that further diminishes the prospects for a negotiated settlement for Pakistan and Afghanistan.

It is imperative to consider these four critical factors when seeking any substantive and sustainable solution to the conflict between Kabul and Islamabad. In this context, T&uuml;rkiye and Qatar, as influential mediators, can play a pivotal role in persuading the Afghan Taliban to recognize the grave humanitarian consequences of a protected conflict for the Afghan population, who are already enduring one of the world&rsquo;s most severe humanitarian crises, marked by restricted access to livelihood opportunities, unfolding climate disaster, food insecurity and gender apartheid.

Sadia Sulaiman is an Assistant Professor at the Area Study Centre for Africa, North and South America, Quaid-i-Azam University, Islamabad.]]>
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			<title>A love story with the wild</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2575405/a-love-story-with-the-wild</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2575405/a-love-story-with-the-wild#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 02 Nov 25 01:02:11 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Safia Siddiqui]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2575405</guid>
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				<![CDATA[How a childhood love for talking animals grew into lifelong admiration for the woman who truly understood them]]>
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				<![CDATA[As a child my favourite moment before bedtime was listening to my father&rsquo;s allegorical tales where animals spoke. My fascination for animals deepened further with stories of Tarzan and Jane of the jungle, and I would drift into dreams of living among those wondrous creatures.

Little did I know that a few years later, I would be reading about another Jane and dream of working and living in Africa just like her. Over the years, many things in my life changed, and my early allures began to seem childish and naive. However, my admiration for the real Jane-life &mdash; Jane Goodall &mdash;only grew stronger and deeper with time.

Who is Dr Jane Goodall? Well Jane Goodall is the women who has conducted research on chimpanzees for over 65 years, beginning her groundbreaking field study &mdash; the longest such study ever undertaken by any individual &mdash; in Gombe, Tanzania, in 1960. Although she transitioned from direct field research to focussing on conservation and activism in the late 1980s, she persistently travelled widely, advocating for animal welfare, and studying environmental issues until her death.

Dame Valerie Jane Morris Goodall born in 1934, passed away on October 1, 2025 at the age of 91. She was an English primatologist, anthropologist and a leading conservationist of recent times. She was regarded as a pioneer in primate ethology, and described by many publications as &quot;the world&#39;s preeminent chimpanzee expert.&quot; The most fascinating fact about her is that she could speak like chimpanzees and exchange greetings with them.

One word that comes to my mind after all my reading, research and viewing the documentaries on her is astounding. Beginning her journey in 1960, under the mentorship of the palaeontologist Louis Leakey, she ended up being an iconic figure of recent times. Leakey was working on human evolution, he believed that the study of primates in natural habitats was key in understanding human progression. He personally focused on three female researchers, Jane Goodall, Dian Fossey, and Birutė Galdikas, calling them &ldquo;the trimates.&rdquo;



Without any formal education Jane Goodall went to Gombe Stream National Park on July 14, 1960, becoming the first of Louis Leakey&#39;s &quot;trimates&quot; to study primates in their natural environment. She was accompanied by her mother to meet safety concerns raised by David Anstey, the chief warden, her mother also played a key role in encouraging Goodall to pursue a career in primatology, a field that was male-dominated and not welcoming to women during that period. From a young age, Jane was fascinated by wildlife and harboured a dream of living in Africa among animals. This passion was first ignited when her mother gave her a stuffed chimpanzee toy named Jubilee. As she grew older, another stuffed toy, a monkey named Mr H was given to her by a friend. Later Mr H became her constant companion and her unofficial mascot.

During her initial months, she spent a lot of time tracking and observing the elusive chimpanzee troops, particularly the Kasakela community. The chimpanzees were initially wary and secretive, but slowly they accepted her presence. It took several months for Goodall to gain the trust of the chimpanzees, which allowed her to observe intimate details of their social and family life, marking a breakthrough in primatology research.

Her early findings were criticised by scientists as instead of numbering the chimpanzees she was studying, she named them. Leakey was undeterred rather managed funds and the support of National Geographic Society for Jane which helped her continue with her study.

Nearly 40 years after Dr Goodall first started studying the chimpanzees, science discovered that human DNA and the chimpanzees DNA were 99 percent identical. Which made the chimps our closest relatives in this world. Good enough for Goodall to name them David Greybeard, Goliath, Flo, and Mike. Her special relationship with FIo was deeply personal and empathetic. She spent years closely observing and interacting with Flo, her daughter Flint and her son Fifi, gaining intimate insights into their emotions, social bonds, and personalities. 

Dr Goodall noted that chimpanzees exhibited behaviors akin to humans such as affection (hugs, kisses, pats) and also they grieved the death of a dear one.

Jane Goodall first appeared on the cover of National Geographic magazine in December 1965. This cover featured her work with chimpanzees, which brought her international recognition. The iconic National Geographic film &quot;Miss Goodall and the Wild Chimpanzees&quot; aired in 1965, further highlighting her significance in the field.

DrnGoodall revealed that chimpanzees had individual personalities, emotions, and behaviours once thought unique to humans. And they were smart enough to make tools and use them. She showed they are omnivores who coordinated group hunts, challenging the belief that they only ate plants. Additionally, she documented their complex social behavior, including aggressive, strategic attacks on other groups, highlighting both peaceful and violent elements in their communities.

In 1965, Jane Goodall was awarded a PhD in ethology from the University of Cambridge. During the 1960s, she published several accounts of her research in Tanzania, including articles in National Geographic. Her first extensive book on her findings, In the Shadow of Man (1971), was translated into 48 languages, highlighting the broad impact of her work.



An aerial view of Gombi National Park in mid-1980 during a flight made her realise the dwindling forest which was alarming for the chimpanzee population in general. Thus the quiet shy women who just wanted to be with animals had to take up the fight for the environment now and later turned her into the most sought after speakers in the world.

She founded the Jane Goodall Institute in 1977 to promote wildlife conservation and launched the Roots &amp; Shoots youth programme in 1991, expanding it into a global network. She established wildlife sanctuaries and reforestation projects in Africa and advocated for the ethical treatment of animals. In recognition of her work, she was named as the United Nations Messenger of Peace in 2002 and advised organisations such as Save the Chimps. 

I believe that there are lessons to be learnt from the life of Dr Goodall &mdash; lessons of patience, understanding, environment, the utmost importance of flora and fauna around us and to develop a conscious sense of empathy for the wild life.

My father&rsquo;s funny and humorous stories about animals, combined with the towering influence of Dr Jane Goodall, sparked a deep love for animals in me as a child and I developed a special bond with the animals. My unconventional approach to caring for animals often worried my mother. I remember my pet parrot, Blu, never had his wings clipped, once flying away, he returned three days later and sat right on my shoulder&mdash;his favourite spot. Challenging the common notion that parrots are unfaithful! 

Even now, my small house is surrounded by towering trees that are home to birds and wild squirrels. Whenever I step outside, I can feel the wild animals fluttering and calling excitedly, probably signalling it&rsquo;s time to feed. I truly believe that if each of us take small steps to care for animals, and teaches our children to do the same, we can help preserve the natural world. This is essential if we want future generations to witness our planet in its lost glory.

Pakistan is currently facing severe consequences of climatological changes. Following the footsteps of Dr Goodall we need to understand the importance of prioritising trees over maintaining lush lawns. Our school curriculums must be updated to include topics on wildlife extinction and environmental challenges, and establish a direct connection between wildlife and the massive tourist industry, unfortunately a topic never addressed in our country. Authorities need to work diligently and sincerely to halt deforestation, not only to protect the shrinking wildlife but also for the wellbeing of humanity. It is crucial that we act swiftly before it&rsquo;s too late.

In a 2025 Netflix interview released posthumously, Jane Goodall shared a heartfelt message of hope. Knowing she would no longer be around, she urged everyone to recognise that each day offers an opportunity to make a difference. She encouraged people not to lose hope, emphasising the urgent need to act now to save the planet for future generations. Dr Goodall stressed the importance of protecting biodiversity and combating climate change. Even at 91, she travelled extensively almost 300 days a year, spreading her message of hope with the belief that her words would inspire positive change now and for posterity.

&nbsp;

The writer is Assistant Professor at the Department of English Literature, IUB and a wildlife life enthusiast. She can be reached at safiabwp1@gmail.com

All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the writer

&nbsp;]]>
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			<title>What Pakistan’s screenwriters could learn from the Walter Boys</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2575404/what-pakistans-screenwriters-could-learn-from-the-walter-boys</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2575404/what-pakistans-screenwriters-could-learn-from-the-walter-boys#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 02 Nov 25 00:56:19 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Fouzia Nasir Ahmad]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2575404</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[My Life With the Walter Boys wrangles grief, love, and family chaos into a binge-worthy ride]]>
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				<![CDATA[My Life With the Walter Boys (MLWTWB) sat on my watch list quite for some time and I didn&rsquo;t start seeing it until not so long ago, when a feisty tweeny mentioned to me that she had enjoyed the book of the same name by Ali Novak, on which the show was based. She is learning to ride and the show offers, horses, a ranch, a rodeo, bronc riding, all things she loves. At the time, it didn&rsquo;t occur to silly me that ofcourse it was a show for younger audiences, that would ofcourse have a young cast and would explore young-people issues. It was one of those in-between nights when you suddenly notice that your big, fat watch list had slimmed quite a bit, and the remind me list is gaining a few, so I decided to give MLWTWB a go.

Now who doesn&rsquo;t love pine-dotted snowy mountains, huge ranches and horses? Anyone would be as easily pulled in as I was. And that makes quite an accurate description of Colorado, which I have never been to and am curious about. Hence I settled down to watch the first season, found it an easy watch, fairly intriguing and a visual treat.

Ali Novak is the New York Times and internationally bestselling author of contemporary young adult novels. Interestingly, she started writing her debut book, My Life with the Walter Boys, when she was only fifteen and since then, her work has received more than 150 million reads online. Soon after season 1 was released in December 2023, the series became a member of Netflix&rsquo;s billion-minute club, after drawing in millions of viewers, Deadline Hollywood, an online news website reports. It&rsquo;s not difficult to see why MLWTWB became one of Netflix&rsquo;s biggest hits in no time.



In the backdrop of a fictional town called Silver Falls, in the breathtakingly beautiful Colorado, which in actual fact was Alberta in Canada where it was mostly filmed, this is a teen romance that tells the story of Jackie (Nikki Rodriguez), a high school student forced to move from New York to Silver Falls, after she loses her parents and sister in an accident. I found that to be the most intriguing angle for which I kept watching the first season, followed by the second one was been released recently.

Jackie is then entrusted to the care of her godmother and her mom&rsquo;s closest friend, Katherine Walter (remember the iconic Sarah Rafferty in Suits?), Jackie finds herself living on a farm with nine other children, seven of them boys and Katherine&rsquo;s husband, George (Marc Blucention)

This family drama peppered with young romance explores how a young girl deals with the loss of her family and finds it quite challenging to be accepted in a new, predominantly male one. After the devastatingly personal tragedy, as Jackie moves to a small town from a bustling city such as New York, she confronts both awe and jealousy, she finds friends and frenemies, she misses the glitzy city life and adjusts to the rustic life, but the close-knit world of the Walter family ranch, the Walter boys and their parents help her consciously and subconsciously through her unexpected and unprecedented journey of self-discovery, healing and finding herself.



The young audiences easily connect with these themes and Jackie&rsquo;s struggle to deal with her trauma. Within the framework of the ranch in a small town, there are other story tracks so that older and young characters navigate life with their own problems such as property issues, family and heritage values, gender issues or setbacks such as not being able to continue sport due to a debilitating journey and adapting to difficult changes and choices that life throws at anyone.

The series is an entertaining mix that portrays themes of grief and resilience, love, jealousy, sibling rivalry, a small-town community camaraderie, and chaotic family dynamics.

Let&rsquo;s hope that in the three seasons, all characters and their stories get played out well enough to reach a plausible conclusion. The performances are ace, especially the young lead Rodriguez who is a young actor in substantial layered role that moves from tragedy through different levels of self actualisation.

With a heroine as ultra-sensitive as Jackie, how was it possible for a love triangle not to develop between two brothers Cole (Noah LaLonde) and Alex (Ashby Gentry) and herself! Alex is the younger one, who is stable and mature, while eye-candy Cole is passionate, bold and daring, both seasons have plenty of cliffhangers, twists and turns, and apparently the audiences have enjoyed it so much that a third season is being planned for release next year.



According to showrunner Melanie Halsall, the third season might focus more on the stories outside of the main love triangle. So far the stories revolved around younger characters, but the writers and producers feel that in the third season, they want to explore more intergenerational perspectives.

Although Novak originally set her bestselling book in Denver, most of the series has been shot across three regions of Alberta, Canada. In Calgary, scenes were set at Girletz Rodeo Ranch, Heritage Park Historical Village, The Southern Alberta Jubilee Auditorium, Splitsville Glamorgan and the University of Calgary.

In the rodeo scenes where Alex learns and performs bronc riding, real rodeo action was used where Ashby Gentry and Noah Lalonde actually rode horses after they were trained by real-life wranglers and spent time at actual ranches and rodeos to used authentically portray their characters&#39; experiences. 

Without a spoiler here, I can&rsquo;t keep from you the juicy bit about Noah Lalonde and Nikki Rodriguez actually dating since last year, although we can keep guessing who Jackie finally chose between the two brothers at the end of the upcoming third season. 

Every time I watch a series that views life from so many angles and perspectives, I wonder what keeps our channel, drama companies and screen writers from expanding their horizons, waking up to a karrak doodh-patti, and to start exploring themes other than the beaten-to-death storyline of a woman&rsquo;s struggle to get married, followed by the struggle to stay married because of warped in-laws or girl wants to get married or girl doesn&rsquo;t want to get married!

And our very limited and a little bit warped storylines are watched by all age groups. There is nothing that is specifically created for young people or mature minds. Grandparents and kids sit alongside each other to watch a play whether it is talking about incest, rape, marital abuse, domestic abuse, extra-marital affairs, and infidelity, you name it.

For instance, an orphan&rsquo;s tale in our productions would entail pity, sorrow, and tears for the girl being an orphan. The word &lsquo;yateem&rsquo; meaning orphan in Urdu would be repeated in every third line in the script with the prefix or &lsquo;bechari&rsquo; meaning &lsquo;tsk tsk poor girl&rsquo;! Also it would be everyone&rsquo;s mission to mistreat and abuse her and bucketfuls of tears would follow. Jackie on the other hand hardly ever cried, the approach was positive, courageous, mature, and deep.



The only instance I can remember is how perfectly Haseen Moin crafted drama series Tanhaiyan, in 1985, where the story began with two girls, Zara (Shehnaz Sheikh) and Sanya (Marina Khan) lose their parents in an accident. There was no bawling, just Zara&rsquo;s serious and intense personality paired with Sanya&rsquo;s jovial one in a story of how they start a new life, pay off their father&rsquo;s debts and re-purchase their family house. It was progressive, positive and brilliantly entertaining and gripping. Somewhere, somehow, we lost that standard, the ability, the mindset. Sad.

Dear screenwriters and content creators, there is a ginormous and colossal world out there to traverse, and thousands of ideas, stories, angles, perspectives and themes to feel curious about, and write on. While younger people content is a story for another day, we are waiting to see our creatives to turn out something new and exciting.]]>
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			<title>The scholar and the fortress of fear</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2575324/the-scholar-and-the-fortress-of-fear</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2575324/the-scholar-and-the-fortress-of-fear#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sat, 01 Nov 25 15:01:39 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Dr Aftab Husain]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2575324</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[Francesca Orsini’s deportation from India exposes a nation’s growing fear of dialogue]]>
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				<![CDATA[When the distinguished scholar Francesca Orsini arrived at Delhi airport on October 21, 2025, she expected a routine welcome, not abrupt deportation. With a valid five-year e-visa, she was ordered to leave without explanation: a moment that vividly illustrates how contemporary India uses administrative processes to stifle academic freedom. Her removal exposes how bureaucratic procedures now serve to mask and enforce political control, transforming the landscape for intellectual inquiry.

Orsini&rsquo;s deportation exemplifies a deliberate state strategy targeting intellectual dissent and plurality. Rather than an isolated case, it reflects a broader effort to restrict critical thought and dialogue in India. The choice to exclude a scholar dedicated to India&rsquo;s diverse literary history demonstrates a regime&rsquo;s deep discomfort with the very openness that once defined Indian scholarship.



The scholar and the significance of her work

Francesca Orsini is no stranger to India&rsquo;s cultural world. She studied Hindi at Venice University, at the Central Institute of Hindi in Agra, and at Jawaharlal Nehru University. For decades, she has immersed herself in South Asian literary history. Her works&mdash;The Hindi Public Sphere, 1920&ndash;1940: Language and Literature in the Age of Nationalism and Print and Pleasure: Popular Literature and Entertaining Fictions in Colonial North India&mdash;have deeply shaped modern understanding of Hindi&rsquo;s cultural and political evolution. Her research highlights the multiplicity of the Indian literary experience: the meeting of languages, registers, and publics that resists colonial and nationalist uniformity.

&ldquo;I am a literary historian working primarily with Hindi and Urdu materials and interested in exploring how multilingualism worked and continues to work within the literary cultures of South Asia,&rdquo; she writes about herself. The irony is painful: a scholar devoted to mapping the crosscurrents of cultural dialogue is silenced by a state that has replaced dialogue with decree.

Orsini&rsquo;s work provokes by refusing purity. She shows that Hindi&rsquo;s development was not a simple, linear move toward a single national language. It was a contested process shaped by local vernaculars, Urdu, women&rsquo;s voices, and working-class idioms. Her use of J&uuml;rgen Habermas&rsquo;s &ldquo;public sphere&rdquo; challenges the triumphalist narrative of Hindi nationalism. She exposes fractures in the &ldquo;public,&rdquo; showing how class, caste, gender, and religion shaped who joined the national conversation.

To deport Orsini is thus not merely to reject a foreign visitor but to symbolically repudiate the heteroglossic, dialogic India that her scholarship so meticulously reconstructs.

Fortress India: From republic to enclosure

orsini&rsquo;s case is the fourth recent instance of a foreign scholar with valid papers being denied entry to India. In March 2022, British anthropologist Filippo Osella was turned back at Thiruvananthapuram airport with no explanation. That same year, Lindsay Bremner, a British architecture professor, was also deported. In 2024, Kashmiri-origin scholar Nitasha Kaul was refused entry at Bengaluru airport and later had her OCI card revoked. Ashok Swain, a Swedish-based academic of Indian origin, had his OCI status cancelled after criticizing the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP).

These incidents reveal a deliberate national strategy: India is constructing boundaries not just against physical threats, but also against intellectual diversity. Inspired by the fortress metaphor&mdash;where state power seeks to eliminate unpredictability and dissent&mdash;India&rsquo;s new regime of academic gatekeeping is driven more by fear of pluralism than external enemies. Borders now serve to dictate who may participate in the nation&rsquo;s discourse.

The official reason for Orsini&rsquo;s deportation&mdash;an alleged old visa violation&mdash;is absurd. It uses bureaucratic logic to rationalise what is, in fact, political censorship. Michel Foucault&rsquo;s &ldquo;governmentality&rdquo; clarifies this: modern states use not only open repression but also micro-regulation of conduct, movement, and knowledge. Visa categories, conference permits, and security clearances are subtle tools that domesticate intellectual life.

This is the modern face of authoritarianism: not open censorship, but systematic administrative barriers that quietly limit dissent and intellectual freedom. Such tactics aim to redefine the boundaries of permissible thought.



The politics of purity and the fear of multiplicity

The ideological basis of such control is a project of cultural purification in the Hindu-nationalist imagination. The BJP/RSS aims to merge the Indian nation with a Sanskritised, monolingual &ldquo;Hindi-Hindu-Hindustan.&rdquo; This idea cannot handle the actual messiness of India&rsquo;s languages and cultures. In contrast, Orsini&rsquo;s scholarship celebrates that messiness&mdash;the &ldquo;worldliness,&rdquo; as she puts it, &ldquo;of literature both as it inhabits and intervenes in the world.&rdquo;

In The Hindi Public Sphere, Orsini showed how early twentieth-century Hindi periodicals and pamphlets allowed negotiation between elite nationalism and the energies of women, workers, and subaltern publics. Her scholarship breaks the myth of a unified national culture. It reveals Hindi&rsquo;s real history as one of hybridity and dissent.

The state&rsquo;s rejection of Orsini mirrors its broader drive to suppress linguistic and cultural plurality. By excluding a scholar known for exploring India&rsquo;s hybrid literary traditions, the government symbolically rejects diversity itself. This act transforms a visa denial into a powerful statement about which voices are welcome in public discourse&mdash;and which are silenced.

In this sense, India now shows what Arendt called the &ldquo;paranoid logic of totalitarianism&rdquo;: the belief that every difference is a conspiracy, and every ambiguity, a betrayal. Intellectuals, especially those of foreign or diasporic origin, are seen as threats because they move between different worlds of reference. Their thought cannot be boxed into loyalty or treason.

Exile, paranoia, and the new cartography of dissent

The deportation of foreign scholars is part of a broader effort to silence domestic dissent. University campuses&mdash;once filled with debate&mdash;are increasingly watched and policed. Faculty jobs and conferences need political clearance; student protests are criminalised. The state&rsquo;s fear also reaches those abroad. Overseas Indians who criticise government policies risk losing their OCI cards, cutting off legal and emotional ties to home. This is a new form of exile&mdash;one enforced by revoking belonging.

Edward Said described exile as both a condition of pain and of insight: the exile, distanced from the homeland, can see it more clearly. Yet the Indian state&rsquo;s treatment of its intellectual diaspora reveals a deeper pathology: it cannot tolerate being seen at all. Visibility itself becomes dangerous when power relies on myth.

The fortress mentality, as Achille Mbembe states in his work on necropolitics, is not just defensive; it builds new ways to control. Borders grow inside and outside the nation. They decide who enters and what may be said, taught, or imagined. Airport, university, classroom, and visa office merge into one regime of surveillance.



Comparative horizons: Global authoritarianism and the war on knowledge

india&rsquo;s intellectual isolationism is not unique. It echoes patterns seen across the world&rsquo;s illiberal democracies. In China, scholars must navigate a complex system of censorship that extends from the internet to academic publishing. Research on sensitive topics such as Tibet, Xinjiang, or the Cultural Revolution is effectively prohibited. In Turkey, thousands of academics were purged or imprisoned after the 2016 coup attempt. In Russia, the state dictates historical truth through laws criminalizing &ldquo;distortion&rdquo; of the Second World War. In Hungary, Viktor Orb&aacute;n&rsquo;s government expelled the Central European University, branding it an alien liberal institution.

What unites these regimes is a shared belief that knowledge must be controlled by the state. The drive to police scholarship is not about ideology but about securing epistemic authority. Orsini&rsquo;s deportation places India among nations that enforce &#39;epistemic authoritarianism&#39;&mdash;governments ruling reality by deciding what knowledge is permitted.

In each case, the state&rsquo;s hostility to critical thought is disguised as the defence of sovereignty. The right to control narrative is recast as the defence of the nation&rsquo;s honour. This inversion of meaning is what George Orwell diagnosed as the essence of political language in totalitarian societies: to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable. India&rsquo;s treatment of foreign and domestic intellectuals follows precisely this logic. Censorship is rebranded as vigilance; exclusion becomes patriotism.

The Erosion of the Public Sphere

From the standpoint of political philosophy, what is at stake is the very possibility of the public. Habermas envisioned the public sphere as a space where rational-critical debate could shape political will. In the Indian context, that sphere has always been precarious&mdash;structured by inequalities of caste, gender, and language&mdash;but it existed, nonetheless as an aspiration. Today, the deliberate narrowing of discourse, the criminalisation of dissent, and the manipulation of media have eroded that fragile ideal.

Orsini&rsquo;s own historical reconstruction of the Hindi public sphere showed how linguistic and literary debates once fostered a sense of collective reasoning. By silencing her, the state symbolically forecloses that possibility in the present. The public sphere is replaced by a pseudo-public, a performative unanimity maintained through fear and propaganda. Foucault would call this the transformation of discourse into regime: language ceases to be a medium of critique and becomes an instrument of control.

In such a regime, even academic inquiry is redefined. Knowledge that does not serve the nation&rsquo;s ideological project is deemed &ldquo;anti-national.&rdquo; Universities are turned into ideological training grounds. Funding priorities shift from critical humanities to technocratic nationalism. The intellectual, once a figure of questioning, is recast as a potential insurgent.

The human condition and the politics of plurality

The deeper tragedy of this transformation is not merely political but ontological. Arendt, in The Human Condition, argued that the essence of human freedom lies in natality&mdash;the capacity to begin anew, to introduce unexpected words and deeds into the world. Totalitarianism seeks to extinguish that capacity by rendering all speech predictable and all action predetermined. When the state dictates who may think or speak about its culture, it denies not only freedom of expression but the human condition itself.

India&rsquo;s intellectual tradition has historically thrived on openness: the debates of Nalanda, the syncretism of Bhakti and Sufi poets, the heterodox dialogues of Ashoka&rsquo;s edicts, the vernacular cosmopolitanism of early modern Awadh&mdash;the very subject of Orsini&rsquo;s current research. To close the gates on such a scholar is to close the gates on that history. It is to forget that India&rsquo;s greatest strength has been its ability to contain contradictions without resolving them by force.

A culture that fears scrutiny is a culture already hollowed from within. The fortress may appear impregnable, but as Arendt noted, totalitarian isolation leads not to strength but to decay: &ldquo;The ideal subject of totalitarian rule is not the convinced Nazi or the convinced Communist, but people for whom the distinction between fact and fiction no longer exists.&rdquo; The systematic manufacture of ignorance&mdash;through censorship, propaganda, and exclusion&mdash;produces precisely that subject: obedient, unthinking, and docile.

Toward an ethics of intellectual openness

The challenge, then, is not merely to protest isolated acts of deportation or censorship, but to re-articulate an ethics of intellectual openness. In a world increasingly defined by borders&mdash;physical, digital, epistemic&mdash;the defence of scholarship becomes an act of moral resistance. The scholar, as Said insisted, must remain a &ldquo;secular critic,&rdquo; one who speaks truth to power not from within the fortress but from the threshold, the in-between space of dialogue.

Defending such thresholds is not an academic luxury; it is a civilizational necessity. The expulsion of a scholar of Hindi is not only an insult to global academia but an injury to India itself. For it signals a nation turning against the very principles&mdash;plurality, curiosity, debate&mdash;that once defined its greatness.

If India continues down this path, it will find itself isolated not by Western conspiracy but by its own fear of freedom. The fortress, after all, imprisons those who build it.

The meaning of a border

What has been deported from India is not merely a person but an idea: the idea that knowledge is porous, that culture thrives on exchange, and that the nation is strongest when it listens to those who see it from without. To restore that idea will require courage&mdash;not the muscular nationalism of slogans, but the quiet courage of conversation.

In the end, the question is philosophical: Can a nation built on fear of difference survive the loss of dialogue? Arendt would answer no; so would Habermas, Foucault, Said, and indeed Orsini herself, whose work teaches that literature lives only in conversation with the other.

India must decide whether it wishes to remain a living conversation or become a sealed archive guarded by suspicion. The deportation from Delhi airport is not an end&mdash;it is a mirror held up to the world. And what the world sees in that mirror is a republic struggling against its own shadow.

&nbsp;

Aftab Husain is a Pakistan-born and Austria-based poet in Urdu and English. He teaches South Asian literature and culture at Vienna University

All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the writer]]>
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			<title>When the dream found you</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2575323/when-the-dream-found-you</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2575323/when-the-dream-found-you#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sat, 01 Nov 25 14:56:14 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Nabil Tahir]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Sports]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2575323</guid>
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				<![CDATA[A boy who once stayed up to watch his heroes now sits across them, turning late-night fandom into global storytelling.]]>
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				<![CDATA[If you are a football fan, you&rsquo;ve probably imagined it countless times. Meeting the stars you grew up watching. Walking into the stadium of the club whose victories shaped your childhood weekends. Maybe, if luck ever smiled wide enough, catching a glimpse of them during a training session or waving as they leave after a match. It&rsquo;s a fantasy so many hold on to quietly, the kind that feels too distant to ever come true.

But what happens when that dream finds you first? When the passion that once kept you up at 2 a.m. watching matches turns into the very thing that takes you to those stadiums, not as a spectator but as someone sitting across from the players themselves?

For Irfan Junejo, one of Pakistan&rsquo;s most celebrated digital storytellers, that fantasy became reality. Through Begin, the official streaming partner of LaLiga in Pakistan, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka, Junejo became the first Pakistani creator to represent the region at FC Barcelona&rsquo;s base camp, interviewing players ahead of El Cl&aacute;sico, football&rsquo;s most-watched rivalry. The collaboration, part of Begin&rsquo;s effort to connect South Asian voices to global sports culture, gave Junejo a chance that few in this part of the world could even imagine &ndash; an exclusive, one-on-one conversation with the stars of a club he had supported since childhood.

What began as a boy&rsquo;s late-night ritual of watching Ronaldinho and Messi on a flickering TV screen in Karachi had quietly transformed into a moment of global storytelling. Yet when that moment finally arrived, Junejo says, it wasn&rsquo;t awe that filled his mind, it was focus.

A seat among the stars

&ldquo;The moment I walked into Barcelona&rsquo;s training facility, I was trying to contain everything &ndash; emotions, excitement, responsibility,&rdquo; he recalls. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s not easy to get access to these players, so I knew I couldn&rsquo;t afford to lose focus for even a second.&rdquo;

Three cameras were rolling, two microphones were live, and the setting wasn&rsquo;t as simple as it seemed. &ldquo;The light wasn&rsquo;t camera-friendly. If I made the players sit there, the background would get overexposed. So my mind instantly went to fixing that. No emotions at that point. Just the responsibility of getting it right.&rdquo;

When asked whether memories of Ronaldinho or the early Bar&ccedil;a days crossed his mind, Junejo shakes his head. &ldquo;I had told myself that I&rsquo;ve come here to work. Even if Messi walked in, I had to do my job. The thoughts and emotions could come later.&rdquo;

Still, the fan inside him couldn&rsquo;t be silenced completely. &ldquo;The hardest moment to contain my excitement was when I saw the first player walk in,&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;I think it was Pao Kubars&iacute;. He wasn&rsquo;t assigned to me, but when he entered, my hands went cold. That&rsquo;s when it really hit me where I was.&rdquo;

It was during his first interview with Roony Bardghji, though, that the barrier between fan and professional began to fade. Junejo says, smiling, &ldquo;[Roony] is very young, very chilled out. I asked him about his last match, the one where he chipped the ball, and the way he answered with a smile, I suddenly felt like I wasn&rsquo;t a fan anymore. I wasn&rsquo;t sitting across a Barcelona star. It felt like two friends talking about a game.&rdquo;

The tone shifted when he met Jules Kound&eacute;. &ldquo;Kound&eacute; was calm, collected, thoughtful,&rdquo; Junejo says. &ldquo;He spoke about fashion, how it gives people courage to be themselves, and not worry about what others say. The contrast between them was beautiful. With Roony, there was laughter and jokes. With Kound&eacute;, it was more about depth and perspective.&rdquo;

For a lifelong Barcelona supporter, that mix of light conversation and deeper reflection became something else entirely, a reminder that the world he had admired from afar could be both human and reachable.



Focus before fanhood

Long before the cameras started rolling, Junejo knew that his preparation would define how well he handled the moment. &ldquo;I did some research on Google,&rdquo; he says simply. &ldquo;I looked up key moments from their careers, which clubs they came from, when they joined Barcelona, and where their story began. I wanted to ask questions that reflected that understanding.&rdquo;

He had planned to keep the tone conversational, but grounded in respect. For Kound&eacute;, he even traced his early career path to frame a question about beginnings, something personal, yet professional. It wasn&rsquo;t about impressing the players with football trivia. It was about showing that he had come prepared, as a storyteller who knew their journey.

The day, however, carried its own surprises. &ldquo;I thought there would only be two players,&rdquo; he recalls. &ldquo;But when I got there, I found out it was a full media day. There were international outlets, magazines, everyone waiting for their slot. It felt massive.&rdquo;

Inside his bag was a Barcelona shirt and a marker, just in case. &ldquo;I had a small plan to get my shirt signed,&rdquo; he admits with a grin. &ldquo;But once I saw how formal everything was, I realized this wasn&rsquo;t the time. I didn&rsquo;t want to look unprofessional.&rdquo;

That moment became a quiet test of restraint. &ldquo;I thought, if I just take a picture, that&rsquo;s enough,&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;Because if I acted like a fan, maybe next time LaLiga wouldn&rsquo;t trust a Pakistani creator again. I wanted to make sure I did everything right.&rdquo;

Between the excitement and the pressure, what carried him through was focus. In a room full of global journalists, lights, and limited minutes, Junejo managed to hold his composure by reminding himself why he was there.

The journey of staying real

For someone who began by filming quiet moments on the streets of Karachi, sitting across from global football stars feels like a leap across worlds. Yet Junejo talks about it with the same calm that has defined his creative journey from the beginning. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t really think about it too much, [I] just thank God,&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;I just keep my head down and keep working. If I think about it too much, I get complacent. You start believing everything is fine and then you stop improving or working hard. I&rsquo;ve seen a lot of people fall into that.&rdquo;

Junejo&rsquo;s story has never been about loudness or spectacle. When he first picked up a camera, it wasn&rsquo;t to chase virality but to tell stories that felt human, sincere, and still. His early YouTube videos were small glimpses into daily life &ndash; a walk through the city, a friend&rsquo;s laughter, a moment of silence before prayer. That same restraint runs through his work today, even when the frame shifts from Karachi&rsquo;s streets to Barcelona&rsquo;s training ground.

He believes authenticity is what connects audiences across cultures. &ldquo;Authenticity is really the foundation of all personal brands on social media,&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;Especially the ones that last long. How I keep it alive, I don&rsquo;t know. Maybe it&rsquo;s just a personality trait.&rdquo;

When asked about his favourite Barcelona memory, his face lights up with a laugh. &ldquo;It would be Roony,&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;I told him that it was my wife&rsquo;s birthday that day and asked if we could take a picture together. He was so nice about it. He wished her a happy birthday and we clicked a picture. I thought, first of all, the gift money is saved,&rdquo; he jokes, &ldquo;and second, this work is done.&rdquo;

Finding meaning beyond the moment

Even after returning from Barcelona, Junejo speaks about the experience without a hint of self-celebration. For him, milestones are less about applause and more about alignment, when what he envisions in his head matches what finally comes to life. &ldquo;In terms of purpose, yes, this experience did reaffirm a lot,&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;But I think it&rsquo;s always a video-to-video thing. You work hard on something, and if the final product turns out the way you imagined it, you feel good. When it doesn&rsquo;t, that&rsquo;s when the self-doubt and imposter syndrome start creeping in. I don&rsquo;t think that ever goes away, and maybe it&rsquo;s just part of the creative process.&rdquo;

What stood out was the intent behind his questions to the team. &ldquo;I could&rsquo;ve asked them to say my tagline, &lsquo;Scenes kuch aisay hain,&rsquo; or made the moment about myself,&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;But instead, I asked them to share a message for Pakistan. Because that moment was bigger than me or my channel. There are far more Barcelona supporters in Pakistan than people who follow my work. So, I thought, why not make it about all of us?&rdquo;

This is a small glimpse into the way Junejo is always balancing personal achievement with collective pride. When asked what he&rsquo;d tell his younger self, the boy who stayed up late to watch Barcelona play, his answer comes without hesitation. &ldquo;I&rsquo;d tell him to keep dreaming and always dream big,&rdquo; he said.

He pauses for a moment, reflecting. &ldquo;Now I just hope this becomes something long-term. I&rsquo;ve tried to deliver extra value to LaLiga and Begin so that this collaboration keeps going, maybe next season or the next Cl&aacute;sico, they invite someone else from Pakistan. Whether it&rsquo;s me or another creator, the important thing is that it continues.&rdquo;

As the flight back home lifted off from Barcelona, Junejo found himself scrolling through his playlist, trying to find the right song to bring his rare experience to a close. &ldquo;I played a lot of songs on the flight,&rdquo; he laughs. &ldquo;But I was thinking about which one I&rsquo;d use in my last social media post. I chose &lsquo;You Don&rsquo;t Know&rsquo; by Hassan Rahim.&rdquo; The song carries verses that mirrored his emotions perfectly &mdash; gratitude, reflection, and a quiet sense of survival.

Listening to the song, he reflected on everything that made his dream come true &ndash; the late nights, the doubts, the prayers, and the constant push to keep creating.&ldquo;It just felt like the right ending,&rdquo; he shares.

What it means for Pakistan

For many in Pakistan&rsquo;s creator community, Junejo&rsquo;s trip looked like a symbolic breakthrough, a sign that local storytellers were finally finding a seat at the global table. Yet, he doesn&rsquo;t see it that way. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think this signals a new era or anything,&rdquo; he says plainly. &ldquo;There isn&rsquo;t much of a global reach yet. But wherever there are Barcelona fans who understand Urdu or Hindi, there&rsquo;s definitely something for them. LaLiga is clearly trying to grow in these markets, and they&rsquo;re actively doing something about it. That&rsquo;s what makes this opportunity great.&rdquo;

His humility cuts through the noise that often surrounds digital milestones. To him, the real value lies not in global recognition but in meaningful participation. The fact that a South Asian creator could sit across from players representing one of the world&rsquo;s biggest football clubs already says enough about how far regional content has come.

That intersection of passion and purpose has shaped his journey. He talks about his achievement with gratitude, but never as a finish line. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a great achievement, and I&rsquo;m very grateful,&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;But the goalpost is always moving, as they say. You enjoy the moment, people around you celebrate it, and then you move on.&rdquo;

For Junejo, this isn&rsquo;t the end of a story, it&rsquo;s just a sign that the story can continue. Each small step, he believes, should make it easier for the next Pakistani creator to walk a little further.

A new playbook for South Asia

To understand how this milestone fits within a larger vision for South Asia&rsquo;s football fans, The Express Tribune Magazine also spoke with Jonathan Mark, CEO of Begin, the platform that made this collaboration possible.

Mark explains that the idea of sending a Pakistani representative to Barcelona came together almost overnight. &ldquo;When the conversation with LaLiga started, we had less than a week to make the call,&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;We needed someone who wasn&rsquo;t just a football fan, but who could carry the excitement authentically and represent both Pakistan and Begin in the right way.&rdquo; He recalls that Junejo&rsquo;s name came up almost instantly.

For Begin, this partnership was about more than one content opportunity. It was a step toward reshaping how Pakistan experiences global sports. &ldquo;Our goal isn&rsquo;t just to stream LaLiga,&rdquo; Mark says. &ldquo;We want to help build sports culture beyond cricket. Football is where we started, because millions here grew up loving the game but never had formal access or representation in the global football world.&rdquo;

He believes moments like Junejo&rsquo;s at Barcelona help turn fans into participants. &ldquo;Passion becomes culture when people see themselves in the story,&rdquo; he explains. &ldquo;When someone who speaks like them and celebrates like them sits in those global spaces, it changes everything. Irfan gave Pakistani fans that moment.&rdquo;

Begin&rsquo;s broader vision goes beyond content and coverage. &ldquo;We want LaLiga to see Pakistan not just as an audience but as a future talent hub,&rdquo; Mark says. &ldquo;That means training camps here, opportunities for young Pakistanis to go into LaLiga academies and, one day, seeing homegrown players on the same pitches we grew up watching.&rdquo;

He calls this shift from visibility to participation a quiet but powerful change. &ldquo;Pakistan has always had football passion,&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;What it lacked was recognition. With Begin, we&rsquo;re trying to bridge that gap. Irfan&rsquo;s interviews in Barcelona were just the beginning of a longer journey where Pakistani fans, creators, and eventually players can become part of global football culture.&rdquo;

For Mark, the significance of Junejo&rsquo;s moment lies in what it represents. &ldquo;He wasn&rsquo;t there as an outsider,&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;He was there as a voice from Pakistan, curious, confident, and passionate. That matters. It tells fans here that they belong in these conversations. If people watch that and feel a little more seen, then this milestone has already done its job.&rdquo;

The last frame

As the lights dimmed over Barcelona and the plane took off toward Karachi, Junejo&rsquo;s journey came full circle, from the quiet glow of a television screen in his childhood room to the blinding lights of the Camp Nou training ground. What began as sleepless nights spent watching Ronaldinho weave magic had turned into a story where he was part of the frame, not just watching from afar.

In that sense, his story is not only about football. It is about what happens when passion meets persistence, when creativity travels far enough to open doors for others.

For Pakistan&rsquo;s young creators and fans, Junejo&rsquo;s moment in Barcelona stands as a reminder that global stories are no longer out of reach. Sometimes, the distance between dream and reality is just a matter of doing the work, staying real, and keeping the camera rolling.]]>
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			<title>No food for thought</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2575407/no-food-for-thought</link>
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			<pubDate>Sun, 02 Nov 25 01:13:46 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Tufail Ahmed]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Health]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2575407</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[Across various life stages, gender discrimination in nutrition &amp; patriarchal prejudices hinder physical development]]>
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				<![CDATA[While poverty is often seen as the primary predictor of malnourishment, it fails to account for the gender-specific disparities in access to nutrition that have steadily led to the development of chronic nutritional deficiencies among women and girls in the country.

According to Dr Basmaa Ali, Clinical Instructor in Internal Medicine at the Harvard Medical School, malnourishment, particularly iron-deficiency anaemia is a huge problem in Pakistan since it causes the national IQ score among girls to drop by three to five points, which is 5 per cent of our GDP.

&ldquo;Growing up if you have anaemia, your brain does not develop since haemoglobin is needed to supply oxygen. Hence, the affected women and girls are unable to develop the intellectual prowess needed to excel in the public sphere,&rdquo; revealed Dr Ali.

On the other hand, Dr Nighat Khan, General Secretary at the Women Care Foundation of Pakistan highlighted the fact that nutritional deficiencies not only impacted the development of female adolescents but also had dire consequences for their future children.

&ldquo;Girls who suffer from severe malnutrition face various medical complications during pregnancy. Even when they give birth successfully, the child born is underweight and is susceptible to acquiring various diseases,&rdquo; claimed Dr Khan.



&ldquo;Approximately 50 per cent of women in urban areas and 75 per cent of women in rural areas are suffering from some nutritional deficiency especially of iron and calcium,&rdquo; explained Professor Dr Jahan Ara Hassan, Professor of Gynaecology at the Dow University of Health Sciences.

Whilst acknowledging the hazards of malnourishment, Dr Ali felt that genotypic variations among different populations could partially explain the staggering figures highlighting anaemia in Pakistan.

&ldquo;We rely on Western medical guidelines, which label women with a haemoglobin level of 11g/dL as anaemic, even though these levels are perhaps normal in our local female population. The average haemoglobin levels among women in our country are genetically lower,&rdquo; noted Dr Ali.

While it could be said that the figures on malnourishment might be exaggerated, the interplay of various gendered social factors hindering access to nutrition for women and girls perpetuates a vicious cycle of malnourishment, which hampers the quality of life of females across socio-economic backgrounds.



Taste of discrimination

In a male-dominated society where women are stereotypically relegated a lower status, gender discrimination is a harsh reality withholding half the population from equally accessing education, healthcare, employment and even nutrition.

Since sex determination through a sonography is allowed in Pakistan, gender discrimination in nutrition often begins even before a girl child is born. Families that have knowledge of the gender of the child convey their bias through the quality of care given to the expectant mother.

Nazia*, a 21-year-old first time mother was over the moon when she was told by her doctor that she was carrying a boy. However, her days of happiness were short-lived since a couple of months later she delivered a baby girl.

&ldquo;Although my husband was happy, my mother-in-law was distraught since she worried for her poor son who now had the burden of a daughter on his shoulders. To express her resentment, she did not even announce the birth of my daughter in the family,&rdquo; recalled Nazia.

Nazia&rsquo;s heart-breaking experiences were corroborated by healthcare providers during a study undertaken by the Population Council to study son preference in Karachi. According to the respondents, pregnant women carrying male children reported being treated better by their families, who would take special care of their nutrition and rest.



In Nazia&rsquo;s case, her mother-in-law, who would feed her nuts and milk during pregnancy, stopped caring for her nutritional needs after the birth of her daughter. &ldquo;Whenever I would nurse my daughter, she would order me to do some household chore. I was forced to stop breastfeeding my daughter so that I could conceive a boy soon after. This treatment continued until I had my son two years later,&rdquo; recalled Nazia, whose daughter suffers from stunting.

Published by the Quarterly Journal of Economics, a study exploring breastfeeding practices in India revealed that a negative covariance was found between the duration of breastfeeding and parents&rsquo; plans for subsequent births. Since breastfeeding physiologically lowered a woman&rsquo;s fertility, after the birth of a girl, parents were more likely to limit breastfeeding in order to try for a boy.

Regrettably, such discriminatory practices only worsen as the girl grows older. Dr Basmaa Ali, Resident Scientist at the Lahore University of Management Science (LUMS) informed that in many areas across the country, iron-rich foods were still considered premium foods reserved for boys.

&ldquo;Eggs, chicken and red meat are first given to boys and then to girls hence the latter have no iron supplementation. Plant-based iron must be consumed in large amounts for efficacy. Three cups of cooked spinach are required most days of the week to fulfil the body&rsquo;s iron requirement. However, a lot of times this is not feasible,&rdquo; claimed Dr Ali.

&ldquo;One in seven women in Pakistan is undernourished, while nearly half of the female population suffers from iron deficiency anaemia, which is a major factor contributing to miscarriages among pregnant women. Furthermore, the deficiency of vitamins A and D is also quite common among women and adolescent girls in the region,&rdquo; noted Dr Bushra Khalil, Head of Nutrition at the Lady Reading Hospital in Peshawar.



Starved by standards

Upon reaching puberty, the nutritional requirements of female adolescents increase sharply to compensate for the monthly loss of blood. Unfortunately, however, this is the exact same time when societal pressure to fit the conventional standards of beauty encourages young women to zip their mouths shut.

Alina*, a 16-year-old student struggled with obesity since childhood. However, the unease that she felt within her own body hit a whole new level once she entered her teenage years. While her favourite online influencers could pull off any outfit grabbed at the mall, she had to spend hours finding the correct fit. Tired of the constant body shaming and desperate to lose the extra pounds, she decided to turn to YouTube for help.

&ldquo;I came across this juice detox diet, which guaranteed significant weight loss within two weeks. All I had to do was only drink juice the whole day. What could possibly go wrong?&rdquo; shrugged Alina, who whilst suffering from heavy menstrual bleeding was unaware of the repercussions of her highly restrictive diet.

Soon after, Alina started fainting in school on a daily basis and eventually required multiple blood transfusions to correct her severe anaemia. &ldquo;I wish society was not as unforgiving for young girls. Children should never be body shamed since adolescence is a time when their bodies are still developing. Unfortunately, our constant exposure to the perfect physiques of influencers only further ruins our self-esteem,&rdquo; said Alina, who has consistently struggled with anorexia.

According to the Cureus Journal of Medical Science, adolescent&rsquo;s exposure to ideal body types on social media has significantly increased their susceptibility to following fad diets and developing eating disorders over the past few years.



Explaining Alina&rsquo;s case, Dr Ali revealed that in girls, iron was not stored as fastidiously as in boys hence it must be restored through food. &ldquo;Heavy menstruation is quite common, especially during the initial few years of menarche. When this blood loss is not corrected through food it leads to anaemia,&rdquo; highlighted Dr Ali.

In order to correct anaemia, it must first be diagnosed. In Pakistan however, taboos surrounding menstruation prevent young girls from discussing issues like heavy bleeding with female caregivers while the stigma associated with taking an unmarried girl to a gynaecologist prevents many mothers from seriously addressing their daughters&rsquo; concerns.

&ldquo;Women&rsquo;s reproductive health, including menstruation, is all taboo in our country. When I was a medical student in Pakistan, every time we would take the menstrual history of a female patient, the male professor would have a sly smile on his face while all the male students at the back would invariably smirk. Later, when I went to the US for my residency, I was presenting a woman&rsquo;s medical history to my male supervisor in a class of nearly all male students and not a single one of them acted weird,&rdquo; recalled Dr Ali.

Dr Ali further opined that in order to destigmatize women&rsquo;s reproductive health, it was necessary to raise awareness about the topic in the local languages. &ldquo;The reproductive system is just like any other part of the body. Talking about this subject in English allows us to distance ourselves from it. Therefore, we should talk about it in Urdu and the other vernacular languages to reduce the stigma. That&rsquo;s the only way to make it normal because as long as it is considered a matter of shame, people will not talk about it,&rdquo; noted Dr Ali.



Hunger for heir 

&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a girl.&rdquo; Till date, the following revelation is received by families in two extreme ways. An open exhibition of outright shock or a well mastered display of feigned exuberance. In both the scenarios, the new parents are tacitly consoled by the clich&eacute;d declaration that daughters are a blessing from God and that having a healthy baby is all that matters. However, in discreet words the mother is told that her nine-month long journey of patience was fruitless since it ended with the disappointing birth of a sour fruit.

Not much different was the plight of Hajra Bibi, a 25-year-old mother hailing from the Momand Agency, whose failure to produce a son landed her in an endless cycle of consecutive pregnancies. &ldquo;The doctors advised me against conceiving another child because of my severe anaemia. I tried explaining this to my husband but he insisted on having a son despite my health struggles,&rdquo; bemoaned Hajra, who is pregnant once again.

Hajra&rsquo;s case is a classic example of son-biased fertility stopping behaviour, under which the desire to have one son or a desired number of sons leads couples to continue having more and more daughters, significantly deteriorating the mother&rsquo;s health.

Dr Muhammad Rizwan Safdar, Assistant Professor of Sociology at the Institute of Social and Cultural Studies (ISCS), University of Punjab highlighted the fact that the prevailing cultural mind-set in the country actively encouraged couples to continue having children until a son was born. &ldquo;Son-biased fertility stopping behaviour often leads to malnutrition in mothers,&rdquo; said Dr Safdar.

However, the gendered consequences of son-biased fertility stopping behaviour extend beyond the health of the mother, entailing much deeper repercussions for the ill-fated cohort of girls, who are seen as little more than the pitiful outcomes of repeated failed attempts at having a boy. Given the limited economic means of the average household, the nutrition, education and life outcomes of these girls are all significantly impacted, with their futures obscured by the darkness of both malnutrition and child marriage.

According to the National Nutrition Survey 2018, over half of adolescent girls in Pakistan suffer from anaemia, with rural areas hit the hardest. While the prevalence of anaemia among girls in urban areas stands at 54.2 per cent, a staggering 58.1 per cent of adolescents hailing from poverty-ridden areas are affected.

Research by the Future Business Journal confirmed that children with a large number of siblings were more likely to suffer from malnutrition while a study published by BMC Women&rsquo;s Health revealed that girl&rsquo;s belonging to large families with more than five members were at an increased risk of child marriage. Therefore, it is seen that son-biased fertility stopping behaviour leads to the birth of more girls than the family can afford to feed therefore, the easiest way out of a financial crisis is to lend their frail hands in marriage.

Moreover, the results of a study exploring the link between female early marriage and son preference in Pakistan published by the Journal of Development Studies concluded that girls who were married before the age of 18 not only expressed a greater desire for having male children but were also less likely to stop reproduction until or unless they gave birth to a boy. Hence, the cycle of son preference and malnutrition survives through generations, silently bedeviling the health of millions of women and girls in the country.



Breaking the cycle 

Whether women want to improve bone strength to manage daily tasks or flaunt flawless skin, hair and nails at a wedding, the billion-rupee vitamin and minerals market claims to offer a myriad of benefits. Beguiled by the tactful marketing strategies, very few consumers stop to ponder how effective these supplements really are?

&ldquo;From an evolutionary standpoint, our food is much older than humanity, which has actually co-evolved with its food. The body recognizes nutrients in the matrix of food. Therefore, when you take calcium or iron in a pill form, the body is unable to recognize them as nutrients. For iron the studies are not as good, but for calcium we know that 10 times more calcium is absorbed through food than from tablet form,&rdquo; emphasized Dr Ali, whose medical practice integrates the principles of Ayurveda with those of western medicine.

Hence, Dr Ali stressed the importance of supplementation through food. &ldquo;In order to prevent and correct anaemia, women and girls should eat red meat, liver, and eggs regularly alongside incorporating a good number of green vegetables especially spinach, into their diet. Iron-rich foods should be taken alongside foods that are high in vitamin C since the micronutrient is needed for iron&rsquo;s absorption,&rdquo; explained Dr Ali.

Since female adolescents spend a large part of their day at school or college, Dr Ali believed that educational institutions could play a part in improving nutritional outcomes among women. &ldquo;Unfortunately, however, high carb junk foods dominate the menu at nearly all educational institutions. On the contrary, in countries like Japan, a nutrition profile is made for foods to highlight the exact quantity of protein, carbs and fresh vegetables necessary for students across all ages. Nutritious foods, however, require proper storage. Therefore, our government should issue general guidelines and invest in developing a system for nutrition in schools,&rdquo; implored Dr Ali.

In Punjab, the Chief Minister&rsquo;s School Nutrition Program, which was launched with great fanfare in selected districts, has now completely disappeared into the background. Despite attempts to contact the Education Department for clarification, no information could be obtained about the program&#39;s current status.

Commenting on the female malnutrition, former Provincial Health Minister Dr Javed Akram claimed that the government had launched the Punjab Human Capital Investment Project, which would provide medical check-ups, vaccinations, and financial assistance to women in 13 districts.

Conversely, Dr Fazal Majeed, Director of the Nutrition Health Department of K-P claimed that the government had launched the Micro-Nutrient Universal Program in 12 districts, where women will receive essential vitamins, including folic acid supplements, free of cost.]]>
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			<title>The forgotten gunsmiths of Sakhakot</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2572353/the-forgotten-gunsmiths-of-sakhakot</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2572353/the-forgotten-gunsmiths-of-sakhakot#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Tue, 14 Oct 25 10:03:27 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Abdur Razzaq]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[Quetta]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Balochistan]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2572353</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[Only a few ageing craftsmen remain in Sakhakot, still forging guns by hand as the trade fades away]]>
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				<![CDATA[Known for its guns and graciousness, Sakhakot or Skhakot is a small town located on the Main Road, which leads to Dargai and Malakand. Shahi Baba, an elder of the Yousafzai tribe, proclaimed that nobody dares touch the people who have once been given protection. Shahi Baba of Shalman Rais Branch was also known for his guerrilla war against the British. The people of Sakhakot may excel at crafting handmade guns, but they are also known for their generosity and hospitality.

Fifty-year-old Jumma Syed has been a gunsmith in Sakhakot Bazaar of Malakand district, Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa, for the past 30 years. He recalls how the bazaar was once a bustling hub for locally crafted guns, but not anymore, as the trade of locally made guns fades away.



&ldquo;The material and technology used in modern manufacturing of guns are not available to us,&rdquo; says Syed. &ldquo;The manufacturing technology for gun-making has become really advanced. These are the reasons our gun market has failed to develop and move with the times as it did earlier. Currently, 30-bore, seven-shot pistols are being manufactured, and different kinds of guns are repaired in the market, while modern weapons such as 9mm pistols and other firearms are legally transported from Peshawar to meet the demand.&rdquo;

The area is not only known for its firearms market, but history reveals that it is also remembered for the locals&rsquo; battles with the British army. Situated on the main Mardan&ndash;Malakand road, about 80 kilometres north of Peshawar, Sakhakot Bazaar once had more than 500 gun manufacturing and repairing workshops where a number of craftsmen from different parts of the country worked. However, because of the decline in the arms trade, most of these shops are now closed, and there are only a few craftsmen who still work in their ancestral profession.



&ldquo;From 1857 to 1897, when the British army attacked the Sakhakot area several times, the locals fought fierce battles against them,&rdquo; shares Amjad Ali Utmankhel, a local historian from Dargai, Malakand. &ldquo;In 1895, the British government occupied this region and established the Malakand Agency.&rdquo;

Riaz Muhammad, 54, whose forefathers were gunsmiths in Sakhakot Bazaar, has worked in the craft for nearly 40 years since 1980. &ldquo;Our ancestors were the first to start manufacturing arms in the market,&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;For 150 to 200 years, being a gunsmith has been passed down in our family. Later, other craftsmen also adopted the skill, which helped the market grow.&rdquo;



In the early days of the Sakhakot gun market, 12-bore single and double-barrel shotguns and five-shot rifles were produced, mostly purchased by people from Mardan, Charsadda, Swat, and Dir areas, he recalled.

Riaz Muhammad said that later, manufacturing of copies of Italian-made revolvers and 30-bore pistols from Russia and China had also begun.

Local craftsmen revealed that before General Zia-ul-Haq&rsquo;s regime, only a small number of skilled workers were associated with the profession. But during heightened tensions between Pakistan and India, particularly the 1986&ndash;87 crisis, the firearms business in Sakhakot received a boost.

&ldquo;I remember that during the reign of Gen Zia, when tensions with India arose, guns were manufactured here in large quantities and transported to border areas with a good profit margin,&rdquo; recalls Riaz Muhammad.

He mentioned that the Soviet&ndash;Afghan war was also a reason for the increase in the number of weapon dealers and skilled workers, as at the time modern arms brought from Afghanistan were repaired and sold in large quantities in the market.



&ldquo;After the arrival of modern weapons, local craftsmen were introduced to automatic firearms, including the Avtomat Kalashnikova (AK-47), and they began manufacturing them locally. Some spare parts for these guns were brought from Lahore and Dara Adamkhel, another historic gun market in K-P,&rdquo; says Muhammad.

&ldquo;Before the 1970s, the bazaar was known as Baarra Market, where mostly goods from Russia, Japan, and other countries were transported through Afghanistan and were sold. Later, the gun-crafting business gained momentum,&rdquo; says Muhammad Abbas Khan, a local gun dealer.

He added that until 2008, the business was at its peak and local workers and traders earned a handsome income, but the military operation launched in Swat in 2009 affected the firearms business. He said that another reason for the decline in business was the construction of the Swat Expressway, which bypassed visitors from Peshawar, Punjab, and Sindh, as most travellers preferred that route instead of the historical Mardan&ndash;Malakand road through Sakhakot.

&quot;In the past, those coming to Kalam, Malam Jabba, and other tourist spots in the Swat district used to visit here, and some even ordered guns, but now their route has changed, which has left an adverse impact on the market,&quot; Khan points out. &ldquo;The market was not only a source of income for local workers, but a large number of craftsmen also came from other parts of the province to earn a living for their families; however, the decline in business forced many either to migrate to Peshawar and Dara Adamkhel gun market or to change their profession.&rdquo;

He added that the complicated online arms licensing policy for traders has also damaged the firearms business in Sakhakot.

&ldquo;Many traders associated with the business are illiterate and cannot maintain daily records in the database as required by the government; that is why many veteran businessmen decided to quit the profession,&rdquo; Khan says.

He added that if the arms licensing process were made easier for dealers and the government extended support to the business community, the market could grow into an industry where many skilled workers would find employment.

Today, the clang of hammers and the rusty scent of metal filings that once filled Sakhakot Bazaar have faded into memory. What remains are ageing craftsmen guarding the last remnants of a vanishing tradition, their hands still steady but their trade outpaced by technology, regulation, and neglect. For them, every handmade pistol or repaired rifle is more than a product &mdash; it is a relic of skill, defiance, and history. Whether the craft survives another generation will depend not only on nostalgia but on whether the state recognises Sakhakot&rsquo;s artisans as part of Pakistan&rsquo;s industrial heritage rather than a forgotten trade of the past.

Abdur Razzaq is a Peshawar-based multimedia journalist. He tweets @TheAbdurRazzaq

All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the writer]]>
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			<title>Recognition of a Palestinian state will not end the genocide</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2569406/recognising-palestine-wont-end-the-genocide</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2569406/recognising-palestine-wont-end-the-genocide#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 28 Sep 25 07:12:26 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Hammad Sarfraz]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[World]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2569406</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[Meaningful action requires cutting off weapons supplies to &amp; imposing sanctions on Israel]]>
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				<![CDATA[Two years into a brutal conflict that has reduced Gaza to rubble and killed tens of thousands, the state of Palestine is finally being recognised by a resounding number of countries &mdash; including some that armed Israel with the very weapons used in atrocities broadcast to a global audience.

The recognition carries symbolic weight, but experts warn it offers little reprieve on the ground.

For its part, Israel has made clear it has no intention of retreat. Settlement expansion in the occupied West Bank is accelerating, with open talk of annexation, while Gaza remains under relentless bombardment and blockade. Addressing the UN General Assembly, Benjamin Netanyahu declared that &ldquo;the job isn&rsquo;t done,&rdquo; a blunt signal that diplomatic gestures in New York will not restrain Israel&rsquo;s military operation.

For Palestinians, international recognition has long been a milestone on the road to statehood. With 157 UN member states &mdash; more than 80% of the body &mdash; now acknowledging Palestine as sovereign, the tally underscores just how isolated Israel and its closest allies have become. European states, once reluctant, have altered course &mdash; compelled by the devastation in Gaza and the collapse of any meaningful peace process.

But recognition, without enforcement, risks ringing hollow. The United States continues to shield Israel from accountability, wielding its veto at the Security Council and supplying billions in military aid. Other governments now backing Palestine have yet to suspend arms transfers to Israel, revealing the disconnect between their words and deeds.

On the ground, the reality is unchanged. Palestinians in Gaza face famine, disease, and mass displacement, while in the West Bank, land seizures and settler violence intensify. More than 65,549 have been killed and 167,518 wounded since October 2023, with thousands more believed trapped beneath the rubble in Gaza, a 141-square-mile enclave squeezed between Egypt and Israel.



A recent investigation by The New York Times reveals the breadth of this destruction. Using satellite images and on-the-ground reporting, the paper found that in Gaza City alone, once the territory&rsquo;s economic and cultural heart, entire districts have been reduced to dust. Commercial streets that once bustled with shops and markets are now cratered landscapes. Al-Rimal, a middle-class neighborhood known for its schools, clinics, and businesses, has been almost entirely wiped out. The Times documented how hospitals that survived bombardments have been rendered inoperable by shortages of staff, fuel, and supplies, forcing surgeons to perform amputations and emergency procedures without anesthesia. Rescue workers described digging for days in collapsed apartment blocks, often retrieving only bodies.

The newspaper&rsquo;s analysis showed that Israel&rsquo;s bombing campaign created a pattern of destruction so extensive that entire swaths of Gaza are now uninhabitable, echoing the accounts of displaced families who say there is nowhere left to return to.

Human rights groups caution that without concrete measures &mdash; sanctions, embargoes, or international legal action &mdash; symbolic recognition alone cannot alter the machinery of death and occupation.

Still, experts believe the wave of recognition marks a turning point in global perception. It formalises what has long been a moral consensus beyond the West &mdash; that Palestine&rsquo;s right to statehood is undeniable, even as its people remain trapped under siege. But recognition alone does not end the killing. &ldquo;Recognition of a Palestinian state does nothing to end the genocide,&rdquo; said Kenneth Roth, former executive director of Human Rights Watch.

Roth noted that recognition may help repudiate Israeli claims that the International Criminal Court lacks jurisdiction over atrocities in Gaza, since Palestine is now acknowledged as a state by much of the world. But its deeper significance, he argued, lies in constraining Netanyahu&rsquo;s options for &ldquo;resolving&rdquo; the conflict &mdash; either through mass expulsion of Palestinians or the entrenchment of permanent apartheid. Both, Roth said, are incompatible with the Palestinian state that is gaining increasingly widespread recognition.

What took the world so long?

For nearly twenty-four months, Israel&rsquo;s assault on Gaza has unfolded in full view of the world &mdash; atrocities streamed in real time, the devastation impossible to deny. Only now are a growing number of Western nations moving to recognize Palestine. Did it really take such catastrophic bloodshed for them to act? And does the long delay amount to tacit complicity in Israel&rsquo;s campaign? Across the West &mdash; and even in parts of the Middle East &mdash; governments have shown little capacity to stop what a UN panel led by Navi Pillay has declared an ongoing genocide.

This week, France, Luxembourg, Malta, Monaco, Andorra and Belgium formally recognised a Palestinian state at the 80th session of the UN General Assembly. They join Canada, Australia and Portugal, as well as the United Kingdom, which announced its recognition as well, even as Israel intensified its assault on Palestinian enclave.

Whether these recognitions will be remembered as the start of meaningful pressure on Israel, or simply another diplomatic gesture lost amid Gaza&rsquo;s ruins, will depend on what follows.

Asked why it had taken so long for states to reach this point, Roth pointed to the weakness of Palestinian institutions. &ldquo;Governments may have been reluctant to recognise a Palestinian state when the Palestinian Authority clearly has at best a marginal capacity to govern in the Israeli-occupied West Bank, East Jerusalem and Gaza,&rdquo; he said.

But the sheer scale of Israel&rsquo;s campaign, Roth argued, forced a shift. &ldquo;As the genocide proceeded, many of these governments wanted to do something to show their outrage,&rdquo; he explained. &ldquo;The recent ruling by the International Court of Justice, which declared Israel&rsquo;s occupation illegal and ordered it to end, may also have been decisive.&rdquo; Recognition of Palestinian statehood, he added, is its natural corollary.

&ldquo;Civil society pressure has also mattered. Reports from Israeli human rights groups, a resolution from the International Association of Genocide Scholars, and findings from UN inquiries have all helped to shift political debates within powerful states,&rdquo; said Professor Timothy Williams of the University of the Bundeswehr Munich, who also serves as Second Vice President of the genocide scholars&rsquo; association.

&ldquo;The recognition of Palestinian statehood is an important political move but largely symbolic. It doesn&rsquo;t immediately impact the ongoing genocide, because just being recognised as a state doesn&rsquo;t mean genocide can&rsquo;t happen,&rdquo; he added.

&ldquo;The fact that some European governments are shifting their tone is positive, but it&rsquo;s late &mdash; nearly two years into the war. Tens of thousands have already been killed, much of Gaza&rsquo;s infrastructure has been destroyed, and nearly the entire population uprooted. So while these governments&rsquo; changing stance is valuable, it comes too slowly,&rdquo; Williams concluded.

Will the genocide end?

The short answer is no.

The atrocities carried out by Israeli forces against Palestinians show no sign of abating. Netanyahu&rsquo;s speech to a near-empty hall at the UN General Assembly left little doubt -- he has no intention of stopping the campaign. Just days after the UK, France, Canada, Australia, and other countries broke with the United States to recognise an independent Palestinian state, he dismissed a two-state solution as &ldquo;sheer madness&rdquo;. &ldquo;Giving the Palestinians a state one mile from Jerusalem after October 7 is like giving al-Qaeda a state one mile from New York City after September 11,&rdquo; he said, vowing to &ldquo;finish the job&rdquo; in Gaza. Delegations walked out as he called the recognition of a Palestinian state &ldquo;insane.&rdquo;



Experts caution that symbolic gestures of recognition cannot halt the ongoing bloodshed. &ldquo;We should not confuse an important symbolic action with genuine pressure to end Israel&rsquo;s illegal occupation, let alone the genocide it is committing in Gaza. Additional pressure is urgently needed &mdash; for example, by suspending any preferential trade benefits given to Israel,&rdquo; said Roth.

Recognition of genocide vs state

Recognition of genocide is critical, Williams pointed out, because under the 1949 UN Genocide Convention, states are obliged to prevent and punish it. &ldquo;That recognition compels action &mdash; which is why governments often hesitate to use the term. By contrast, recognising Palestinian statehood shifts alliances, pressures Israel, and supports activists, but does nothing to stop the immediate violence. Ending the atrocities in Gaza remains the urgent task, while statehood forms part of the broader political picture.&rdquo; The evidence of genocide, he adds, has long been overwhelming; what lags is the political will to confront it.

Echoing this concern, Claudio Francavilla, Associate Director for EU Advocacy at Human Rights Watch, highlighted the gap between symbolism and action. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s mind-boggling that certain governments frame their recognition of Palestine as a bold action to stop Israel&rsquo;s genocidal campaign,&rdquo; he said, noting that recognising a state and addressing ongoing atrocities are legally and logically distinct.



On the question of double standards in the Middle East, Francavilla observed that several states maintain robust trade, business, or military ties with Israel, as well as with the US and Europe &mdash; relationships they could leverage to pressure both Israel and its closest allies. &ldquo;Many of these states also have poor human rights records and bear direct or indirect responsibilities for atrocity crimes in places like Yemen or Sudan,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;a reminder that the EU holds no monopoly on double standards and that political will to halt the ongoing atrocities in Gaza remains insufficient.&rdquo;

Francavilla emphasised that recognition of the Palestinian state does not mitigate Israel&rsquo;s massive breaches of international law. &ldquo;Genocides are committed against people, not states,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;All states parties to the 1948 UN Genocide Convention &ndash; including all EU states &ndash; have a legal obligation to employ all means reasonably available to them to prevent genocide as far as possible. That obligation stands whether they recognise a Palestinian state or not, and it is in no way fulfilled by recognition alone,&rdquo; he explained.

Is recognition a reward&mdash;or a right?

Both Israel and the United States, its primary ally in the ongoing war in Gaza, have dismissed the recognition of a Palestinian state as a reward for Hamas, the group responsible for the October 7 attacks that sparked the conflict.

However, support for recognition is growing even within the US. Dozens of House Democrats recently signed a letter to President Donald Trump and Secretary of State Marco Rubio, urging the administration to recognise Palestinian statehood. Led by California Democrat Ro Khanna, the letter carries 46 signatures, and coincides with the conclusion of the United Nations General Assembly, according to the Guardian.

Even as several countries joined the chorus calling for formal recognition of a Palestinian state, the Trump administration remains firmly opposed. Secretary of State Marco Rubio rebuked the move, asserting in a statement, &ldquo;There is no Palestinian state.&rdquo;

Roth rejected the notion that recognition constitutes a reward for Hamas, noting that most governments condition their recognition on Hamas&rsquo;s non-participation, given its military control over Gaza. &ldquo;Moreover, the Palestinian people deserve free and fair elections, which the corrupt and autocratic Palestinian Authority has not held in more than 15 years,&rdquo; he added.

Williams described the recognition of Palestinian statehood as a significant political gesture, signalling a shift in will among some Western actors and breaking from the uncritical solidarity with Israel that marked the early escalation. Recognition, he noted, forms part of a broader strategy that could increase pressure on Israel.

Symbolism vs substance

While the recognition of a Palestinian state has little immediate effect on the unfolding atrocities in Gaza, experts stress that it reshapes the legal and political landscape in meaningful ways.

&ldquo;Israel is pushing back against this recognition precisely because of its symbolic power,&rdquo; said Williams. &ldquo;It exerts pressure, so their reaction is predictable. But for ending the violence and genocide in Gaza, other political moves matter far more.&rdquo;

He pointed to the growing debate over restricting weapons exports to Israel as a crucial development. Recognition of atrocity crimes in Gaza carries legal weight &ndash; under international treaties, states supplying arms must ensure they are not enabling atrocity crimes. &ldquo;With mounting acknowledgement of such crimes, Western governments now face increasing pressure to reconsider their arms transfers.&rdquo;

&ldquo;In the first year and a half after October 7, Western states justified supplying weapons to Israel as part of its legitimate self-defense &mdash; not only against Hamas but within a hostile regional environment shaped by long-standing enmities. That logic persisted too long,&rdquo; Williams explained. &ldquo;Only recently has it begun to shift. We are seeing debates over arms deliveries and even restrictions in Germany &mdash; historically a strong supporter of Israel for reasons tied to the Holocaust. This marks a significant change.&rdquo;

Recognizing Palestinian statehood shifts alliances, pressures Israel, and strengthens those supporting the Palestinians, but it does not stop the violence now. &ldquo;The urgent issue is ending the atrocities in Gaza. Statehood is part of the broader picture, but it does not resolve the immediate crisis.&rdquo;

Will Trump walk the talk?

On the sidelines of the UN General Assembly, US President Donald Trump met with Arab and Muslim leaders, indicating that the war in Gaza could end immediately. But his actions have lagged far behind his rhetoric &mdash; the conflict continues unabated, with atrocities mounting even as political narratives shift. Despite this, Trump&rsquo;s framing of the conflict often minimizes Israeli responsibility, portraying the atrocities in the Palestinian enclave as a continual response to the October 7 attacks by Hamas.

Roth stressed that, while Hamas committed blatant war crimes, that does not justify Israel&rsquo;s targeting of civilians or the ongoing genocide. &ldquo;Israel could have responded by targeting Hamas fighters,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;instead, it has starved and bombed the Palestinian people. Trump tries to ignore that inconvenient reality.&rdquo;

The scepticism extends to his postwar vision. Human Rights Watch&rsquo;s Claudio Francavilla called the so-called &ldquo;Gaza Riviera&rdquo; plan morally and legally indefensible, pointing to Washington&rsquo;s vetoes of ceasefire resolutions as proof of its disinterest in a just peace.

Adding to the unease, the Financial Times reported that former British prime minister Tony Blair is seeking a senior role in Gaza&rsquo;s governance under Trump&rsquo;s blueprint, including chairing a proposed &ldquo;Gaza International Transitional Authority&rdquo; &mdash; a move European and Arab states caution would sideline Palestinians altogether.

For Williams, the larger question is whether Trump will leverage America&rsquo;s unrivalled sway over Israel or simply leave the field to others. He doubts the latter, but stresses that Trump&rsquo;s foreign policy remains unpredictable &ndash; allies and adversaries alike can be discarded in an instant. His hostility to the ICC and the UN, Williams added, long predates Gaza, rooted in a broader drive to weaken the multilateral system itself.]]>
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			<title>Saving the songs of the Kalasha</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2569410/saving-the-songs-of-the-kalasha</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2569410/saving-the-songs-of-the-kalasha#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 28 Sep 25 07:58:24 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Brian Bassanio Paul]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2569410</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[Kalasha hymns are the living archives. To hear them is to witness a culture resisting disappearance]]>
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				<![CDATA[In the valleys of the Hindu Kush Mountains in northern Pakistan, the Kalasha tribe resides. Music is an indispensable pillar of their identity, serving as the primary repository of their unwritten history, religious beliefs, and social norms. Hymns are not decoration around their prayer; they are prayer. Their melodies are not secular art but a form of spiritual knowledge, with its own liturgy, purity laws, and prohibitions. It is theology in practice, a living liturgy encoded in melody and rhythm rather than in scripture.

I discovered their liturgical traditions at a workshop called Sur Sajday Ke Roop Hazaar. Among the participants was Imran Kabir, a Kalasha polymath, teacher, writer, and heritage bearer. I explored their music, festivals, and rituals in &quot;The Kalasha Audio-Visual Archive&quot; by Elizabeth Mela-Athanasopoulou and during my conversations with Imran.

The text-based liturgical music traditions in South Asia thrived within major religious civilisations, backed by states and institutions. Kalasha has no canonised scripture. Their chants are their text. The people exist at the margins of a modern Islamic nation-state, where their musical rituals are sometimes tolerated, sometimes commodified, and often threatened.
A journalistic piece, &ldquo;The Last of the Kalasha,&rdquo; highlights the existential threats to their cultural practices. They are the smallest minority group in Pakistan, estimated to be in the low thousands. The community experiences pressures such as converting to Islam, attacks on cultural sites, damage to altars and monuments, land encroachment, and socio-political marginalisation. Each passing year, their sound grows thinner. To understand their music today is to listen closely for both what is sung and what risks falling silent.

Gayatri Spivak&rsquo;s theory of subalternity throws light on their musical marginality. Songs are voices without amplification, audible in valleys but mediated, distorted, or silenced in national discourse. Spivak&rsquo;s concept of epistemic violence explains how theology in hymns is erased when it is classified as &ldquo;folklore&rdquo; or a &ldquo;tourist attraction.&quot; Representation by outsiders becomes silencing.

They live in three remote valleys: Bumboret, Rumbur, and Birir, in Chitral, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, Pakistan. Their language, Kalashamun, and religious traditions set them apart from the neighbouring populations. It comprises about ten major tribes, each with approximately 90 families. Worshippers sing in the morning and evening to welcome and bid farewell to the Lord.

The tribal priest leads a ritual chant &ldquo;Achambi&rdquo; on the seventh day when a child is born. This welcomes the child into the community and invokes blessings. Mourners gather to sing lamentation hymns that express both grief and reverence. One of the famous hymns sung during funerals is &ldquo;Kanaa Bhum,&rdquo; which tells the story of how a human called &quot;Kanaa&quot; caused the first human death. At weddings, people sing joyful songs. Some share tales of love, while others celebrate tribal traditions. Songs of victory commemorate triumphs over natural disasters or historic conflicts.

The musical tradition is diverse. It encompasses various forms of songs that serve distinct religious, historical, and social purposes. According to &ldquo;Kalasha Texts &mdash; With Introductory Grammar,&quot; genres such as &quot;Luli&quot; are ancient hymns. They hold dreams for the future and convey a sense of hope. &ldquo;Daginay&rdquo; are hymns that talk about the start of life and the beginning of slavery. &ldquo;Ishtyikhek&rdquo; are hymns with two parts. First, they praise the Lord. Second, they include praises for one another.

&ldquo;Nasiat&rdquo; or the advice hymns are didactic pieces where elders share wisdom and life lessons. &ldquo;Ispra&rsquo;Pasa Gho&rsquo;n&rsquo;&rdquo; is a hymn from the Dream of the Dead. These mystical hymns are thought to come from the spirits of the deceased. They visit the living in dreams. The dreamer memorises the composition and shares it with the community. &ldquo;Sachi&rdquo; are fairies and their songs are sung in funerals as well as in festivals.

&ldquo;Ajona Bayak&rdquo; are the love songs. &ldquo;Biramor Gho&rsquo;n&rdquo; are the Dowry Songs. They present gifts to daughters who have recently married. They sing songs that praise her and wish her good luck for her journey ahead. &ldquo;Ishpadhek Gho&rsquo;n&rdquo; is a lullaby song. Every kid has her or his own lullaby. Elders often create a lullaby for the newborn. In this way, every child has a unique lullaby.

A core principle of the religion is the dualistic concept of purity, &quot;Onjes&#39;t&#39;a,&quot; and impurity, &quot;Praga&#39;t&#39;a.&quot; Maintaining a strict separation between these spheres is paramount, as their mixing is believed to cause &quot;pollution,&quot; leading to misfortune. This dualism permeates ritual practices, social interactions, and even the designation of physical spaces. They oppose religious imperialism and do not focus on inclusion or expansion.

The liturgical function of hymns is strict. For example, &ldquo;Onjes&#39;t&#39;a Gho&rsquo;n&rdquo; is the &ldquo;Pure Hymns,&rdquo; which can only be sung by men at major festivals. They are believed to be so sacred that non-Kalasha must not even hear them. This theology of sound offers a profound perspective on music. It sees songs as a holy gift.

Their Lord has many names, each reflecting a different trait. Some of these names include Bidra&rsquo;a&rsquo; Khal&rsquo;en, Nagairo, Yas&rsquo;I, Mira Kumay, Jua shay, Gos&rsquo;iday, Khodai, Dizaw, Paida Garaw, and Mul&rsquo;awa ta deva. For instance, Mul&rsquo;awa ta deva means to instruct, order, or speak to his creation. Ghon Dewa means the Great Lord, while Onjes&#39;t&#39;a Dewa means the Holy Lord. The names of the Lord are also the titles of Pure Hymns, says Imran.

Each genre illustrates how sound intertwines with theology, oral history, and ritual. Together, they form a cultural system where sound is both an archive and an oracle. Yet, a systematic genre&ndash;meter&ndash;mode mapping is still scarce in music journals.

During my research, I found a long list of Kalasha celebrations and chose a few to include. Festivals function as a way to bring about cosmic renewal. According to Socio-Cultural Life of the Kalasha People of Chitral: A Study of their Festivals, &ldquo;Zhoshi&rdquo; is the three-day Spring or Sowing Festival, which begins in mid-Mayto celebrate the arrival of spring, fertility, and prosperity.

The first celebration of the &ldquo;Bis&rsquo;a&rdquo; festival begins with women and children singing songs, and collecting special yellow flowers called &ldquo;Bis&rsquo;a&rdquo; from the mountains. All the doors of buildings, houses, barns, fields, and temples are decorated with these flowers called &ldquo;Bis&rsquo;a bi&rsquo;ek&rdquo;.

All doors of buildings, houses, barns, fields, and temples are decorated with these flowers. A celebration starts, called &ldquo;c&rsquo;irik pipi,&quot; meaning &ldquo;drink the milk.&rdquo; People walk in a long line carrying metal pots and follow the drumbeat to the barn for fresh goat&#39;s milk.

During this event, women sing &ldquo;para para may bayaa zhoshi gos&rsquo;t&rsquo; para c&rsquo;irik pipi o shishamond hawaw.&rdquo; This means, &ldquo;I went to my brother&#39;s barn on the festival of Zhoshi and saw it&rsquo;s the time of c&rsquo;irik pipi.&rdquo; On milk offering day, people make stops, sing energetically, and dance with delight.

&quot;C&#39;hir histik&quot; is the milk sprinkling day. Fathers, mothers, and babies receive a sprinkle of goat milk for purification. At the ritual of &ldquo;s&#39;is&rsquo;au&rdquo;, women&rsquo;s purification takes place. After the rituals, people rush to dance and sing to different drumbeats.
The &ldquo;Chel&#39;ik Sambiek&rdquo; ceremony dresses a child aged 4 to 7 in traditional clothing for the first time. This marks their belonging to the community. The ritual ends with children singing and dancing.

&ldquo;Ghona Zhoshi&rdquo; means &ldquo;the big Zhoshi&quot;; it is the last day of the spring festival. Singing hymns and dancing start at dawn and finish in the evening. All get intoxicated with dancing to loud drums. There&#39;s an extended celebration called &ldquo;Mrac&#39;waki Zhosh.&rdquo; It means the mulberry harvesting festival celebrated in the last three days of May.

&ldquo;Ucaw&rdquo;, a festival of harvesting in August. It is a thanksgiving to honour nature. It begins with &ldquo;Rat&rsquo;nat&rsquo;&rdquo;, a short religious ceremony. Men go to altars to perform rituals, sing hymns, and dance. These activities help protect crops and livestock. During the festival, they hum slow and fast autumn hymns. Drums, flutes, and cheerful clapping go with the performers.
&ldquo;Phoo&rsquo;n&rdquo; is a two-day autumn harvesting festival in mid-October, marking the grape and walnut harvest. It takes place in Birir Valley, signifying the end of harvesting. It involves singing religious hymns, dancing to upbeat rhythms, and rituals to thank the Lord.

&ldquo;Cawmos&rdquo; is the greatest, solemn, and last festival of the year, known as the Winter or Remembrance Festival. A month-long series in December, called &ldquo;ghona chawmos yat,&rdquo; meaning &ldquo;the great memorial chawmos festival.&quot; Lievre &amp; Loude in Kalash Solstice say the festival is for remembrance and purification of self and the land, with deep religious meaning. It signals the advent of the new year.

The celebration starts after finishing fieldwork and storing cheese, fruits, vegetables, and grains. Augusto Cacopardo in Pagan Christmas notes it begins with the &ldquo;Sarazari&rdquo; ceremony. Boys and girls burn cedar branches uphill for purification. Groups compete over the highest smoke with hymns. Late at night, they burn worn-out baskets with hymns, clapping, and wild dancing. This marks the most solemn festival. In every home, women sing &ldquo;kul&rsquo;ani Jes&#39;t&#39;ak.&quot;

&ldquo;Cuinari&rdquo; is where men, women, and children sing and dance in serpent-like lines. They spiral and sing outdoors, &ldquo;O may bayako!&rdquo; which means &ldquo;Oh my beloved brother!&rdquo; &quot;Sharabirayak&quot; is where each family makes goat-like statuettes called kut&#39;amru from dough. At night, boys and girls head to high pastures, burn cedar branches, and sing Cawmos hymns.
&ldquo;Mandahik&rdquo; is the ritual of &ldquo;feeding&rdquo; the spirits of the dead. All houses make food and take it to the temple. Outside, a square wooden structure is built to burn, shedding light for the dead to &lsquo;eat&rsquo; offerings. When the fire goes out, it means the dead have eaten and left; the basket is taken inside following which they sing hymns and dance inside and outside until midnight.

&ldquo;Sawel&rsquo;ik Hari&rdquo; is a celebration of fun dancing in disguise. This daytime event is full of songs. Men and women dance in semi-circles and individually in the open air. The flute plays, and fun peaks when men dress in goatskins with horns and dance wildly.

&ldquo;Grohonyak&quot; means &ldquo;conical baskets&rdquo;. Women craft baskets from willow branches. They sing a slow hymn, &ldquo;Balimahin ta ucundaw, O guum bi oni!&rdquo; meaning &lsquo;Balimahin indeed has come, Oh Lord, wheat seeds bring!&rsquo; Making baskets is a contest for the strongest and most beautiful.

&ldquo;C&#39;anj&rsquo;arat&rdquo; means &ldquo;The night of lit torches.&quot; Men make huge torches, 3 to 10 metres high, from pine wood. The procession of men and boys holding lit torches, singing hymns, starts late at night around a huge fire. At dawn, all hold waists, chant, and dance.

&ldquo;Da&rsquo;utatu&rdquo; is the beans festival. Children gather beans from houses, cook and eat them and sing &ldquo;kul&rsquo;ani Jes&rsquo;t&rsquo;ak&rdquo; house to house. This is dormant now. &quot;Ka&#39;ga&#39;yak&quot; is the last; Ka&#39;ga&#39; means crow. Villagers gather in a home and sing ka&rsquo;ga&rsquo;yak songs, asking the white crow to take prayers and bring needs.

The festival includes unique hymns for &quot;pure&quot; and &quot;impure&quot; men. Through these events, music acts as a calendar, a ritual drama, and a cosmic dialogue. Another festival, Yas&rsquo;i, takes place in March. People travel to their holy homeland, Tsiym, and return. It is dormant.

Some hymns are often sung during the Zhoshi Spring Festival and Uchaw Harvesting Festival. &ldquo;May Dewa iu koshanias thara koshani kariu,&rdquo; meaning &ldquo;My Lord will come and multiply our happiness many times.&rdquo; &ldquo;Ghona Dewa, the Great Lord will descend from his holy heights and protect the women.&rdquo; &ldquo;Shia Dewa iu, kezias chak hiu,&rdquo; translated to &ldquo;The Lord will come and be a shade (shelter) for the posterity.&rdquo; During the Winter Festival, mostly hymns associated with the holy names of the Lord are sung.

Their music features a unique but limited range of instruments. In &ldquo;The Kalasha of the Hindukush, Himalayas,&rdquo; W&atilde;c is a small, hourglass-shaped drum made from pine or apricot wood for rhythmic interplay. D&atilde;u is a larger drum, partnered with w&atilde;c for layered rhythms. A duff is a frame drum for indoor music, like weddings. The tribe used duff in rituals, especially funerals, in the past.

The flute, made from walnut wood, is high-pitched for dance accompaniment and melodies at festivals. Flute and duff are companions, always played side by side. Chang is a rare percussion mouthpiece kept by older tribes. Rubab and the local sitar are string instruments shaped by local traditions. Clapping, stamping, and body percussion are used during circle dances.

The songs are simple and melodic. Carol Rose, in &ldquo;Songs of Kalasha,&rdquo; notes that most singers perform lyrics in two notes, A-flat and G, with minor harmonies. There is a limited melodic span and minor-like centres. There is a gap for researching transcription-based analyses on pitch organisation and modality, intervallic structure, scalar sets, micro-timing, and cadence patterns.

The Audio-Visual Archive research showcases intricate rhythms. Ca&rsquo; is a fast 3/4 beat. D&rsquo;hushak is a steady 4/4. D&rsquo;razhailak is a slow 2/2. Ghach&rsquo;Raw is the slowest, sacred for secret &ldquo;Ghach Hymns.&quot; Comparative BPM, entrainment, and cross-valley variants deserve deeper study. Captivating repetition inspires group involvement and spiritual focus.
Applying Steven Feld&rsquo;s acoustemology, melodies are ecological knowledge. High flute tones, drumbeats, and song timings match the valley&rsquo;s seasons. Spring songs call for grazing, winter for protection. Sound maps weather and herd movements. Older singers predict climate shifts from ritual changes. Music is practical epistemology, embodied environmental intelligence, not just ritual.

As Wynne Maggi notes in Our Women Are Free, women&rsquo;s musicality represents continuity and defiance. Musical life is notable for strong female participation. Women&rsquo;s songs, dances, and costumes are central to festivals and rites. Some songs, for example, the courtship songs, lullabies, and weaving chants, are gendered both in text and performance. Festival liminality challenges gender norms. Men and women swap clothes and roles, clear in Cawmos &quot;praphand&rsquo;awaka.&quot; Music reinforces this inversion.

Contemporary pressures from conservative communities and migration affect genders differently. Young women moving or marrying outside the valleys may stop traditional songs, speeding the loss of oral traditions. Ethnographers show that women&rsquo;s voices are key to preserving specific song types. Female-focused efforts are vital for keeping songs alive.
While Onjes&#39;t&#39;a Gho&rsquo;n&rsquo; excludes women, they have a sacred space, &ldquo;Bashali&rdquo;, a menstrual and childbirth house. Women sing ancient polyphonic songs passed from elders to youth in private. Bashali is more than a biological refuge; it is a female academy of memory and song. Women preserve unique repertoires invisible to men. Gendered division shows a mix of secrecy and revelation in spirituality.

Despite pressures, music remains a survival strategy. Festivals reaffirm group cohesion against the homogenising pressures of the Pakistani nation-state. Each hymn is a counter-narrative to conformity: to sing is to remain distinct. Survival is not guaranteed. Dormant festivals like Yas&rsquo;i show erosion in real time. Diminished rituals express identity, reflecting Antonio Gramsci&rsquo;s &ldquo;pessimism of the intellect, optimism of the will.&quot;

Efforts are underway to preserve heritage, but documentation is uneven. The Pakistan National Commission for UNESCO sees a pressing need to protect heritage, especially since Suri Jagek was recognised as intangible cultural heritage in 2018. Lok Virsa in Islamabad has recordings and digital archives expanding like the Audio-Visual Archive. With NGOs, ethnomusicologists, and museum efforts, they risk speaking for the community instead of boosting their own voices.

Some gaps exist. Few transcribe songs; no music schools. Young people move to cities and stop singing. Technological preservation saves sounds, but not living ritual performance. Without community-led transmission, archives risk becoming tombs of sound.

To support music, interventions are needed. Community music schools teach hymns in a liturgical context. Apprenticeships with elder priests and women singers are necessary. Legal protections for sacred spaces and intellectual property are needed. Culturally sensitive education integrating language and songs is required. Responsible tourism that funds rather than exploits festivals is essential. Ultimately, the community must lead preservation, or it risks reproducing Spivak&rsquo;s cycle of representation that silences.

Kalasha music is not vanishing because it is weak. It is vanishing because it is subaltern, marginalised by political structures, threatened by economic precarity, and silenced by dominant religious discourses. Its fading foretells cultural disappearance. In Spivak&rsquo;s sense, its voice is mediated and unheard.

Yet to listen deeply, to accept hymns as theology, to hear them not as folklore but as liturgy, is to resist epistemic violence. The survival of music is more than cultural nostalgia. It is a defence of pluralism, of humanity&rsquo;s diverse ways of knowing the divine.

When the fires dim at the end of Cawmos and the final hymn drifts into the ravines, it is more than music. It is a covenant: a promise to ancestors, to the Lord, and to each other. Protecting that covenant requires land rights, cultural rights, and above all, a willingness to listen. These are the last songs of the Kalasha. They are fragile, prophetic, and subaltern. And they deserve not only to be heard but to continue being sung.

Brian Bassanio Paul is a music enthusiast whose expertise lies at the intersection of music business, artist development, music appreciation, and cultural studies. He can be reached at brian.bassanio@gmail.com and on LinkedIn @brianbassanio
All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the author]]>
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			<title>Nepal protests: a generation in revolt</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2569411/nepal-protests-a-generation-in-revolt</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2569411/nepal-protests-a-generation-in-revolt#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 28 Sep 25 08:11:56 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Faiza Shah]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[World]]></category>
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				<![CDATA[Gen Z turned online fury into the fall of a govt, forcing the old guard to reckon with a new kind of power]]>
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				<![CDATA[In the first week of September 2025, Nepal staged one of the fastest political collapses in recent memory. A government decision abruptly suspended about two dozen social media platforms &mdash; from Facebook and X to YouTube and Snapchat &mdash; for allegedly failing to register under new rules. Within hours, Kathmandu&rsquo;s streets began to buzz, then swell. By the week&rsquo;s end, the prime minister was gone.

The speed of the government&rsquo;s downfall startled observers of South Asian politics, where regimes usually decay through slow erosion. This was more than a protest against censorship. Nepal&rsquo;s collapse was networked and distinctly a generational refusal.

In a country where the median age is just 25, social media platforms are not luxuries. They are the foundation of economic and personal life: conduits for freelance work, creative hustles, remittance communications with families abroad, and the very means of friendship. To take them away was to strip a generation not just of entertainment but of freedom and possibility.

Social media in Nepal had also become a stage for unmasking elite privilege, echoing the critique of VIP culture in Pakistan by PTI followers as that party rose to power. Viral videos exposed the decadent lifestyles of &ldquo;nepo kids,&rdquo; the children of Nepali politicians and bureaucrats flaunting their wealth. Hashtags calling out corruption gained traction, memes mocking ruling families circulated widely. For Nepali youth, the ban was never about compliance with rules; it was about silencing. And Gen Z would not take it lying down.

Nepal&rsquo;s youth unemployment in the formal sector was reportedly 20.8 per cent last year&mdash;almost twice that of Pakistan&mdash;underscoring a sense of stagnation among the young. Frustration deepened after the September 6 incident in Lalitpur, when a black SUV carrying a provincial minister ran over an eleven-year-old outside her school and sped away. She survived, but the episode crystallised public perceptions of impunity among the political class. When Prime Minister Sharma Oli dismissed it as a &ldquo;normal accident,&rdquo; it confirmed for many how detached leaders were from ordinary concerns.

A generation&rsquo;s revolt

The uprising that followed did not resemble the labour marches or party-led agitations of Nepal&rsquo;s past. It carried the cultural markers of Gen-Z. Protesters waved Japanese anime flags alongside the national banner. Memes circulated faster than official communiqu&eacute;s. Pop culture, irony, and moral rage fused into a symbolic new language, unserious on the surface, deadly serious underneath. Showing up was not only to oppose a government but to affirm a generational identity &mdash; cosmopolitan, irreverent, digitally native.

Remarkably, this leaderless mobilisation spread like a flash flood. There was no charismatic figurehead. Instead, dozens of micro-influencers, moderators, and anonymous meme accounts propelled it forward. The state, used to decapitating movements by arresting leaders, found itself facing a hydra. It was no use cutting one channel because three more sprouted in its place.

This civil unrest broke the digital barrier and animated lived reality. It was not only a witty, hip cause for keyboard warriors. It became one of the most violent episodes in Nepal&rsquo;s democratic era. When protesters clashed with police in the streets, dozens were killed and thousands injured. In a chilling moment that burned itself into national memory, demonstrators set the Prime Minister&rsquo;s residence ablaze. His wife, trapped inside, remains in critical condition.

The horror complicated the narrative of a meme-driven youth revolt. It revealed the darker face of Gen Z&rsquo;s impatience. The same immediacy that fuels their digital activism carried into the streets. A protest against censorship and corruption tipped into vengeance, with little regard for innocence or collateral damage.

For critics, this showed the callousness bred by an online culture where spectacle and outrage reign supreme. For supporters, it was the power of politics in the digital age. Either way, the violence proved that Gen-Z uprisings, for all their irony and memes, are not harmless play. They are capable of cruelty alongside creativity.

Ironically, even as platforms were suspended, they remained the nervous system of the uprising. Many were accessible through VPNs, and organisers migrated swiftly to alternatives. Discord servers became war rooms, where logistics were hashed out and footage shared. Instagram stories and TikToks stitched together a real-time narrative.

The immediacy was staggering. Minutes after clashes with police, videos appeared online, tagged and remixed. Hashtags trended not just within Nepal but across diaspora communities abroad. The Nepali diaspora, which sends home vital remittances, quickly joined in: reposting content, donating funds, lobbying embassies. What might once have been a local dispute became, within hours, an international conversation.

Nepal is no stranger to protest. The 1990 People&rsquo;s Movement ended absolute monarchy. The 2006 uprising curtailed King Gyanendra&rsquo;s powers and restored parliament. Each was dramatic, bloody, and pivotal. But the 2025 uprising stands apart in its style and velocity.

Earlier protests relied on political parties, student unions, or charismatic leaders. They unfolded over weeks or months. In 2025, the pivot was days. The &ldquo;organisational muscle&rdquo; was not unions but networks; the &ldquo;pamphlets&rdquo; were memes; the &ldquo;megaphones&rdquo; were livestreams. Where older generations labored for slow structural change, Gen Z embodies immediacy. They demand transparency now, accountability now, results now.

But as the fire showed, immediacy can also mean destruction without pause. This is the paradox of Gen-Z politics: their strength is speed, their weakness the same.

Regional resonance

The resonance of Nepal&rsquo;s uprising rippled across South Asia. Pakistan has grappled with its own cycle of social media bans. YouTube was blocked for years, TikTok banned repeatedly, and X/Twitter throttled under pretexts of morality, national security, or &ldquo;fake news.&rdquo; Each time, youth responded with frustration, memes, and VPNs. But the backlash rarely spilled into the streets. Bans became nuisances to be routed around rather than red lines to revolt over.

Why the difference? One reason is normalisation. In Pakistan, internet censorship has been so routine that young people, however resentful, almost expect it. Another is legal scaffolding: laws like the Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act (PECA) give governments broad powers to regulate digital speech, creating a climate where crackdowns feel &ldquo;legal,&rdquo; if not legitimate. Protests against these curbs could not easily unite.

In contrast, Nepali youth saw the ban as an attack on dignity and future, not just convenience. They linked censorship with the broader corruption of elites, collapsing the digital and political into one battlefield. Pakistani youth share similar grievances &mdash; against nepotism, corruption, elite privilege &mdash; but they remain fragmented. Their condemnation of corruption and censorship lives on social media.

Still, youth-led movements here &mdash; from the Aurat March to digital campaigns against enforced disappearances &mdash; show the same creativity and impatience with old politics. They have not yet converged on digital freedom under one cause. Nepal&rsquo;s uprising demonstrates what happens when they do.

The price of immediacy

Beyond the resignation of a prime minister, the protests left scores dead, a parliament building nearly stormed, and the Prime Minister&rsquo;s residence in ruins. The fall of a government did not instantly translate into systemic reform. The same youth who displayed unprecedented power in forcing resignation now confront the harder, slower task of institutional change. Whether the habits of immediacy and decentralisation can translate into enduring structures is unclear.

For the ruling elite, the lesson is sobering: you cannot silence a generation by cutting its platforms; you will only provoke it. For Pakistan, the moment is instructive. Draconian laws like PECA may keep dissent fragmented for now, but they risk one day unifying outrage in the same explosive way Nepal witnessed. For the world, the message is that power no longer lies solely in institutions or armies, but in the fingertips of a generation fluent in networks.

It is tempting to dismiss these movements as chaotic or ephemeral. But that misreads the zeitgeist. Gen Z does not separate seriousness from play, or politics from culture, or digital from physical. Their revolt in Nepal was not simply about platforms; it was about asserting that the world of their parents cannot contain them.

Whether the uprising yields a new constitution, reforms, or simply another cycle of elite bargaining remains uncertain.

What is clear is that Nepal&rsquo;s young people have claimed their voice, and they will not easily surrender it again.]]>
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			<title>Port of dreams, port of thirst</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2569409/port-of-dreams-port-of-thirst</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2569409/port-of-dreams-port-of-thirst#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 28 Sep 25 07:42:44 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Zeeshan Nasir]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2569409</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[Amid promises of prosperity, Gwadar and its surrounding towns are trapped in an escalating water crisis]]>
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				<![CDATA[While the rest of Pakistan&rsquo;s major cities and most rural areas were inundated by monsoon rains, a group of children stood hand in hand, chanting in unison at Gwadar&rsquo;s New Tobagh Ward, close to Koh-a-Bun Ward: &ldquo;Pani do, bijli do, warna kursi chor do.&rdquo; (Give us water, give us electricity, or vacate the seat.)

As Gwadar and its surrounding villages and towns confront an escalating water crisis, protests and chants of this slogan have become common across the city. Just a day later, another group of women and children from Assa Ward and Lal Baksh Ward blocked the iconic Marine Drive, demanding water. A similar protest was held at Shaheed Lala Hameed Chowk, led byMaulana Hidayatur Rehman.

The port city is often showcased as the linchpin of China&rsquo;s Belt and Road Initiative, envisioned as a future metropolis akin to Dubai, with wide boulevards, ferries and yachts dotting the Padi Zir (East Bay), and towering cranes silhouetting a rising skyline. Yet beneath this fa&ccedil;ade unfolds a harsh truth: the children of this city still carry jerry cans in search of water.

With a population of 0.2 million, Gwadar currently needs over 5 million gallons of water daily. However, the municipal pipeline network supplies only a meagre 2 million gallons per day, according to the Public Health Engineering (PHE) Department. Assuming that a single person needs 30&ndash;50 gallons per day for domestic use, the residential demand remains unmet&mdash;excluding industrial, commercial, CPEC-related infrastructure and future growth, which could push demand beyond 10&ndash;20 MGD.

&ldquo;The Ankara Kaur Dam built in 1995 to provide 1.62 MGD has silted up significantly and is completely dead now,&rdquo; says Javed, journalist and founder of Gwadar-a-Tawar, a local news outlet.
With Ankra Kaur Dam non-functional, the city is now solely reliant on tanker deliveries from the Mirani Dam in the nearby Kech district, costing over Rs 20 million per month&mdash;spending often lacking transparency in public audits. The two recently connected Sawar and Shadi Kaur dams are vulnerable to seasonal rainfall, and their long distances cause delays during peak demand and transmission losses.

City dwellers must queue at public standpipes or buy water from private tankers, priced at Rs 3,000&ndash;5,000 per 100-gallon load. For low-income families earning less than Rs 20,000 per month, this is impossible.
&ldquo;On regular days, a tanker costs Rs 21,000&ndash;25,000. However, with most dams dried up, the tankers sell water at an increased rate of Rs 30,000,&rdquo; says Javed. &ldquo;The official rate, as set by the district administration and deputy commissioner of Gwadar, is Rs 20,000 per tanker, but it is rarely adhered to.&rdquo;

The government-laid pipeline network is grossly inadequate, with many pipes poorly maintained. Some are clogged; others carry contaminated water. In 2025, the completion of a 158-km pipeline linking Ankara, Sawar and Shadi Kaur dams to four underground reservoirs helped some communities, such as Faqeer Colony and Dhoor, receive water, according to GDA chief engineer Syed Mohammad Baloch. Official data show almost 50 percent of homes in the district receive pipeline water&mdash;44 percent through direct connections and 56 percent via stand posts or public tanks&mdash;while the rest rely on the tanker mafia, wells and pond water, often unhealthy and contaminated.

Desalination plants and their limits

The much-touted desalination plants have not eased the crisis. The district has three plants which either never worked or were inconsistent at best due to bureaucratic hurdles, corruption and chronic power outages.
&ldquo;These desalination plants are like museum exhibits,&rdquo; laments Javed. &ldquo;They&rsquo;re there for you to look at, but they won&rsquo;t fulfil the purpose of supplying water.&rdquo;

The largest plant, located in Karwat, remains non-functional despite being officially inaugurated at least three times by successive governments. The other two are in Sur Bandar and on Koh-e-Batil. In response to the growing crisis, another seawater desalination plant was inaugurated in 2023 with Chinese funding under CPEC. This new plant was aimed to produce 1.2 million gallons per day&mdash;only a small fraction of the city&rsquo;s estimated demand of 16&ndash;22 MGD.
For many people living in and around Gwadar, water is not just a problem &mdash; it defines daily life. Girls drop out of school to stand at community stand posts or fetch water kilometres away each day. Diseases like diarrhoea and cholera have risen, while dehydration, back pain and depression are common among women owing to the constant stress of water shortage.

The economic impact of water scarcity also affects Gwadar&rsquo;s fishermen. Fishing&mdash;the sole income for coastal towns&mdash;requires water for ice-making, preserving catches and washing nets,&rdquo; says Javed. &ldquo;They end up spending more on buying water than they earn from selling fish. &ldquo;What they earn from catching fish in one trip is spent on purchasing water and fuel.&rdquo;&nbsp;

Thirst in the hinterlands

In the vast coastal belt of Balochistan, just behind the shimmering billboards and free-trade zones of Gwadar city, far-flung villages like Jiwani, Pasni, Kulanch, Sur Bandar, Ormara and Pishukaan are parched. Unlike the port city, these villages seldom make headlines, yet the shortage of water has steadily worsened.
&ldquo;We don&rsquo;t have any water to drink, let alone for bathing,&rdquo; Dur Muhammad laments as he scoops brackish water from a shallow well he must re-dig daily. &ldquo;We come here on motorcycles or donkeys, even on foot. All we ask for is water, but nothing changes and no one listens.&rdquo;

Dur Muhammad, 30, lives in Dasht Kurmi, a village in Suntsar, Tehsil Jiwani, just four kilometres before the BP-250 checkpoint&mdash;commonly known as the Gabd Rimdan-250 border. This village lies between two major ports&mdash;roughly 120 km east of Iran&rsquo;s Chabahar port and 70 km west of Gwadar&mdash;yet its people live in a world apart.

With a population of around 400 and no road access (requiring boat commute due to poor infrastructure), Dasht Kurmi is divided into four settlements: Faqeer Muhammad Bazaar, Hammal Bazaar, Kalar Bazaar and Kahuda Sadiq Bazaar. In these dusty settlements, water is scarce.

&ldquo;The acutest water shortage in the Gwadar district is in Jiwani Tehsil,&rdquo; he adds. &ldquo;Locals here have turned to natural ways of water conservation.&rdquo;

When it rains, which is rare, villagers dig trench-shaped earthen ponds to collect water and prevent runoff. These makeshift catchments temporarily become lifelines for several weeks. They also dig small wells known as khaneegs to collect water three metres beneath the cracked soil&mdash;a technique passed down for generations in areas where government pipelines, including those under CPEC, rarely reach or function.

For the people of Jiwani, water once came via pipelines from the now-dead Ankra Kaur Dam, but they are now at the mercy of the tanker mafia.

Protests in Jiwani have been marked by deadly violence since their inception. On 21 February 1987, three people&mdash;including a child named Yasmeen&mdash;were reportedly killed when security forces opened fire on demonstrators rallying for water. Despite an allocation of Rs 937 million in 2021 for dams and pipelines, little progress is visible in Jiwani as of 2025.

According to provincial government estimates, Gwadar city and its adjoining town of Jiwani, with nearly 200,000 people as of 2012, needed 3.5 million gallons of water daily, but normal daily delivery was only 2 million gallons&mdash;leaving a shortfall of 1.5 million gallons per day.

&ldquo;The people living near Pasni spend more time looking for water than fishing,&rdquo; says Waqar Ghafoor, a resident of Reek-a-Pusht, Pasni. &ldquo;Every morning, locals take their containers and wait by the roadside under the sun for hours, hoping a private tanker may pass. The water is often brackish and sometimes there are no tankers at all. What kind of life is this? We&rsquo;re just surviving.&rdquo;

Pasni, a fishing town of 100,000 residents, is supplied by the Shadi Kaur Dam, built in 2004, which also supplies nearby Ormara. By now, the dam has silted and is damaged, providing only limited water. In 2011, when Pasni&rsquo;s population was 50,000, its daily requirement stood at 1.5 million gallons, while actual supply was less than 1 million&mdash;barely meeting six percent of total needs.

&ldquo;We receive water from the Shadi Kaur Dam via pipelines poured into big tanks in the city, from where a network of pipes distributes water to homes,&rdquo; explains Waqar. &ldquo;Though my area receives some water, people living deeper in the city face dire shortages. The pipelines are broken or stolen, and pumping stations shut down for days due to lack of fuel or administrative issues.&rdquo;

Following the collapse of Shadi Kaur Dam in 2005, which killed 70 people and devastated homes and agricultural land, the dam was rebuilt in 2010 under the Federal Public Sector Development Programme. Built at a cost of Rs 7.9 billion with a storage capacity of 37,000 acre-feet (45.6 million cubic metres), it was expected to supply 70 cusecs (cubic feet per second). Now it supplies just 12 cusecs to Pasni and Ormara&mdash;8 cusecs for agriculture and 4 for tanker trucks. With almost no rain, storage capacity has dropped below 30 percent, officials say.

Kulanch, another town a few kilometres from Gwadar port, also depends on Sawar Dam. &ldquo;Some villages of Kulanch are connected to the pipeline network while others aren&rsquo;t,&rdquo; says Ishaque Ibrahim of Beelaar, Kulanch, whose family relocated to Kech due to water shortage.

Ishaque says that although Sawar Dam technically serves the area, distribution is unequal. &ldquo;You can get water only if you have recommendations. The affluent and the well-connected get supply while the poor are left to the private tanker mafia, which charges Rs 21,000&ndash;25,000&mdash;an amount few can afford.&rdquo;

Dams and desalination&nbsp;

The water crisis in the district is both man-made and natural. The hot, dry terrain and thin freshwater lens of the Makran Coast mean freshwater is limited and at risk of seawater intrusion. Rising sea levels keep destroying homes in Pishukan and Ganz, where saltwater intrusion has rendered many wells useless. For many villages, hand pumps churn out saline water that damages the skin.

Desalination efforts go back to 2008. Four plants were proposed in 2017&mdash;one for Gwadar city (Rs 1 billion) and three for Jiwani, Pasni and Singhar (Rs 20 million each). By 2017, only the Gwadar plant was functional; the others stalled due to bureaucratic delays and lack of staff. The Gwadar Seawater Desalination Plant opened in 2023 supplies the city only, leaving peripheral areas out.

In April 2023, two Reverse Osmosis (RO) plants were inaugurated for Sur Bandar and Chabarkani &mdash; hometown of MPA Maulana Hidayat-ur-Rehman &mdash; but they still do not serve remote towns such as Pasni, Pishukaan, Ormara or Jiwani.

Fixing the flow

The solution to the water crisis is neither prohibitively expensive nor complex. Abdullah Rahim, who runs the Facebook page Makran Weather Forecast, says that building small and medium-sized dams around the district to trap seasonal rains could drastically reduce dependency on faraway sources like Mirani Dam. Reviving and de-silting Ankra Kaur and Shadi Kaur dams could return millions of gallons to circulation.

&ldquo;Local hydrologists believe building small dams on the hilly catchments of Nigwar and Kulanch can help reduce dependency,&rdquo; says Abdullah. He recalls February 2024, when an unseasonal shower dropped 183 millimetres of rain in 30 hours&mdash;more than Gwadar&rsquo;s normal annual rainfall. &ldquo;All the streets were under water and people were stranded. When the rain receded, there wasn&rsquo;t a single reservoir or water body to show for it,&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;There were no check dams, no retention ponds. This precious rainwater simply ran into the Arabian Sea.&rdquo; Officials estimate that storing just 30 percent of that water could have met Gwadar&rsquo;s water demand for months.

Javed MB, however, notes that the Makran division lies outside Pakistan&rsquo;s traditional monsoon belt. &ldquo;Though dams help when it rains, what about the years when it doesn&rsquo;t?&rdquo; Pakistan&rsquo;s Meteorological Department has also warned that the Makran Coast is becoming drier and hotter, with longer dry spells and shorter monsoons.

&ldquo;We need to operationalise existing desalination plants in Gwadar and nearby towns. Solar-powered small filtration units could serve off-grid villages,&rdquo; says Javed.

Water in Gwadar is a commodity of inclusion or exclusion, a test of loyalty to the land or a spur to departure&mdash;provoking the question: Is Gwadar being built for its current poor residents, or for an envisioned future of investors and gated economic zones?

And yet, every evening, as the cranes of the port continue their slow rotation and ships are unloaded with horns echoing at dusk, somewhere in the hills a girl returns home with a jerry can, half full. Her back aches; the water tastes metallic. But she and others have no choice. For the world, Gwadar may be a port of luxury and opportunity; for the locals, it is a port of thirst.
&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;
Zeeshan Nasir is a Turbat-based writer. He posts on X at @zeeshannasir972
All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the author]]>
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			<title>The shot they fear: HPV vaccine &amp; the uphill battle</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2569407/the-shot-they-fear-hpv-vaccine-the-uphill-battle</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2569407/the-shot-they-fear-hpv-vaccine-the-uphill-battle#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 28 Sep 25 07:28:06 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Rizwana Naqvi]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Health]]></category><category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2569407</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[In a country where every new vaccine sparks rumours of infertility, the HPV shot faces the same mistrust]]>
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				<![CDATA[As the campaign for immunisation against HPV began, a lot of objections to the vaccine came to the fore, raising doubts in the minds of even those optimistic people who usually see the bright side of things. The most common objection is why a girl as young as nine years old needs to be vaccinated against a disease that, in her opinion, usually affects older women.&nbsp;

For those who question the logic behind early vaccination and its efficacy and need, let me present some facts regarding the vaccine and why it is important.



HPV vaccine prevents cervical cancer, which, though is preventable and treatable if diagnosed at an early stage, silently claims thousands of lives each year. Globally, cervical cancer is the fourth most common cancer in women, accounting for around 660,000 new cases in 2022. In the same year, about 94 percent of the 350,000 deaths caused by cervical cancer occurred in low- and middle-income countries.&nbsp;

Cervical cancer is the third most prevalent cancer among women in Pakistan. With a female population of 73.8 million aged 15 years and older at risk, over 5,000 women are diagnosed annually, many at advanced stages when treatment options are limited and outcomes are poor. &nbsp;Almost 3,200 of them (64%) die from the disease. The mortality rate, one of the highest in South Asia, is primarily attributed to delayed diagnoses and limited access to screening programmes. Despite this, Pakistan remains dangerously behind in protecting its girls and women, though globally there are examples of success in reducing cervical cancer occurrence due to timely vaccination and treatment when detected early.



Cervical cancer is mostly caused by a common virus called human papillomavirus (HPV) that is primarily transmitted through sexual contact. HPV infection is widespread and while many strains of HPV are harmless, high-risk types, particularly HPV 16 and 18, are responsible for nearly all cases of cervical cancer. In most people, the virus does not cause any problems and goes away on its own; however, in some cases it can cause changes in the cells that may lead to cancer.

While cervical cancer is caused by the virus there are several factors that increase the risk of developing cancer. &ldquo;When the immune system is compromised, a high risk HPV infection is more likely to persist and lead to abnormal cervical cell changes. Multiple pregnancies as hormonal changes during pregnancy may make a woman more susceptible to HPV virus, early sexual activity, and poor diet,&rdquo; Samrina Hashmi, Consultant Obstetrician and Gynaecologist and Fertility specialist, Noor Hospital and Concept Fertility, Karachi, explained the risk factors.

Whether someone not sexually active can have cervical cancer, Dr Hashmi said, &ldquo;Because nearly all cases of cervical cancer result from an individual having a high risk strain of HPV, it is highly unlikely for someone to develop cervical cancer if they have never had sex. But in medicine we never say never.&rdquo;



While cervical cancer remains the most recognised HPV-related malignancy, the virus is also linked to cancers of other sexual organs, mouth and throat.

Since cervical cancer can be cured if diagnosed and treated at an early stage, recognising symptoms and seeking medical advice is crucial. Initially, there might not be any symptoms but as it grows, it might cause symptoms such as menstrual bleeding that is heavier and lasts longer than usual; bleeding between periods, after menopause, or after intercourse; watery, bloody vaginal discharge that may be heavy and have a foul odour; persistent pain in the back, legs, or pelvis; weight loss, fatigue and loss of appetite; vaginal discomfort; swelling in the legs.&nbsp;

However, the good news is that it is possible to reduce your risk of cervical cancer and the best way is to receive HPV vaccine.&nbsp;

HPV vaccine is recommended for everyone through age 26. It is recommended that HPV vaccines should be given to all girls between ages nine and 14 years, before exposure to the virus or, to say, before having the first sexual contact because younger people respond better to the vaccine than older people do. Two doses are sufficient for most children in this age group, while three are recommended for those with compromised immunity or for individuals above 15 years of age. The doses are given at least five months apart. Individuals who begin the vaccine series at ages 15 through 26 should get three doses of the vaccine.&nbsp;



&ldquo;Many people in this older age group have already been exposed to the virus, diminishing the vaccine&rsquo;s benefit,&rdquo; says Dr Hashmi. Also, &ldquo;It should be kept in mind that HPV vaccine prevents new HPV infection but does not treat existing HPV infections or diseases. It works best when given at a younger age before any exposure to HPV. Once someone has been infected with HPV, the vaccine might not work as well or at all. If given before someone has HPV infection, the vaccine can prevent most cervical cancers,&rdquo; says Dr Hashmi.

The current HPV vaccines target the main high-risk virus types but cannot cover all cancer-causing strains, or treat existing infections. In addition, though in rare cases, cervical cancer can also be caused without HPV infection, women aged 25 to 64 are advised to have cervical screening every five years, even after vaccination.
Also because there are no symptoms in the early stage of cervical it is important to have regular screening tests. Women ages 21 to 29 who have not been vaccinated should have a Pap ( Papanicolaou , named after Greek physician) test that can find changes in the cervix that might lead to cancer, every three years&nbsp;



To protect millions of adolescent girls, i.e. its future generation, the Pakistan government has introduced the HPV vaccine in partnership with UNICEF, GAVI the vaccine alliance, and the World Health Organisation. The first HPV vaccination campaign that ran from September 15&ndash;27 aimed to cover 15 million girls aged 9-14; the campaign was conducted at fixed centres, outreach sites and schools, and through mobile/special vaccination teams. Later, the vaccine would be available at government facilities and will be incorporated in the routine immunisation schedule.&nbsp;

Despite the fact that it is a very timely intervention and is being promoted through media in a very efficient manner, as in the past with polio vaccine and Covid-19 vaccine, a number of myths have arisen regarding the HPV vaccine that have sown seeds of doubt among parents. Myths vary from vaccines causing infertility, to children being sexually inactive so why vaccinate them against something that does not concern them at this age, to HPV vaccines being new and hence no safety and efficacy data available on the long-tern side effects.&nbsp;



These myths, that been thoroughly debunked by science, are driven by stigma and misinformation and are barriers to HPV vaccine acceptance in Pakistan. &nbsp;
It is being said that the vaccine is new and there&rsquo;s no safety and efficacy data on long term side effects. The fact is that the HPV vaccine which protects against the high-risk HPV types 16 and 18, and have shown to be safe and effective in preventing HPV infection and cervical cancer, was developed in the early 2000s. The World Health Organisation (WHO), the US Centres for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), and numerous global studies have confirmed the vaccine&rsquo;s safety and effectiveness. Millions of doses have been administered worldwide.

Its widespread introduction into national programmes began in mid-to-late 2000s, and by 2023, its access expanded to 150 countries. The World Health Organisation has set a target of fully vaccinating 90 percent of girls by age 15 by 2030. At present, only about 48 percent of girls worldwide are fully vaccinated.

The efficacy of the vaccine is evident in the fact that the countries that introduced the HPV vaccine have seen dramatic declines in infection rates and prevalence of cervical cancer. For example, Australia is on track to eliminate cervical cancer within a decade, while Rwanda, a low-income country, has achieved over 90 percent coverage.&nbsp;



&nbsp;

Regarding the doubt that the vaccine causes infertility, Dr Hashmi gave two examples of studies that prove otherwise: &ldquo;An evaluation in 2018 of nearly 20,000 women aged 11&ndash;34 years found no connection between adolescent vaccination and ovarian failure. Recent data from Denmark also showed no association between HPV and primary ovarian insufficiency among 950,000 Danish women and girls.&rdquo;

Another objection is that children are not sexually active so why vaccinate them against something that does not concern them at this age. &ldquo;Adolescents vaccinated under the age of 15 years showed much higher HPV antibody than older peers,&rdquo; Dr Hashmi explains. &ldquo;They had a higher immune response. This together with the results of clinical trials showing persistent high antibody titres after receiving two doses of HPV vaccination at younger age led to the recommendation of two doses in adolescents under the ages of 15 years.&rdquo;

To address religious and cultural concerns and promote greater acceptance, a multifaceted approach is essential. It is important to present the HPV vaccine as &lsquo;a protective measure against cervical cancer&rsquo; which affects thousands of women annually and not as a means of protection against a sexually transmitted infection. Religious scholars in several Muslim countries have reviewed and approved the HPV vaccine. For instance, in Malaysia, a Muslim-majority nation, the vaccine was successfully integrated into the national immunisation programme; for greater acceptance it was presented as a cancer prevention measure, which definitely helped.&nbsp;

The same approach can be adopted in Pakistan for greater acceptance. Public health messaging should carefully avoid sexual references, as these can alienate certain segments of the population.

To address these misconceptions and enhance acceptance, it is important to engage trusted members of the community such as religious leaders, teachers, health workers and influencers. As people trust them they can use their influence to cultivate confidence among the people and work to dismantle the myths surrounding the vaccine and encourage people to have their children vaccinated.

HPV vaccine: myths &amp; facts

The human papillomavirus (HPV) vaccine has been around for more than a decade! The vaccine is safe, effective, and protects against many strains of HPV, which is the most common sexually transmitted infection and a cause of several cancers. Despite numerous benefits, several misconceptions about the vaccine still persist.&nbsp;

1. MYTH: HPV vaccination is not safe.

FACT:&nbsp;The HPV vaccine is safe and doesn&rsquo;t contribute to any serious health issues. Like any vaccine or medicine, the vaccine may cause mild reactions. The most common are pain or redness in the arm where the shot is given. Other typical side effects include low-grade fever, headache or feeling tired, nausea, or muscle or joint pain &ndash; all of which are temporary. Rarely, an allergic reaction can occur, and individuals should not get the vaccine if they are allergic to any of the components.

The vaccine itself has been researched for many years (including at least 10 years of research before it could even be used in humans) and is highly monitored by the Food and Drug Administration. Vaccinations in the U.S. have never been safer because of the stringent standards the FDA uses.

2. MYTH: HPV vaccination can lead to infertility.

FACT:&nbsp;Claims of HPV vaccine-induced infertility due to premature ovarian failure are anecdotal and not backed by research or clinical trials. A recent study of over 200,000 women found no association between the HPV vaccine and premature ovarian failure.1&nbsp;In fact, the HPV vaccine can actually help protect fertility by preventing gynecological problems related to the treatment of cervical cancer. It&rsquo;s possible that the treatment of cervical cancer could leave a woman unable to have children. It&rsquo;s also possible that treatment for cervical pre-cancer could put a woman at risk for problems with her cervix, which could cause preterm delivery or other complications.

3. MYTH: HPV vaccination is not effective at preventing cervical cancer.

FACT:&nbsp;In the studies that led to the approval of HPV vaccines, the vaccines provided nearly 100% protection against persistent cervical infections with HPV types 16 and 18, plus the pre-cancers that those persistent infections can cause. In addition, a clinical trial of HPV vaccines in men indicated that they can prevent anal cell changes caused by persistent infection and genital warts.2&nbsp;HPV-associated cancers can take decades to develop, so it will be a few more years before we will be able to have studies comparing cancer rates. Advanced pre-cancers have long been universally accepted markers for cancer.

4. MYTH: Only girls need to get the HPV vaccine, men and boys don&rsquo;t need it.

FACT:&nbsp;HPV affects both men and women. It can cause genital warts, penile, anal, and oral cancer in men. It can also be easily transmitted to a sex partner without either of the partners knowing.

5. MYTH: Getting the HPV vaccine will encourage adolescents to be more sexually promiscuous.

FACT:&nbsp;No research links the HPV vaccine to increases in sexual activity. No evidence giving the HPV vaccine is linked with higher sexual activity. In fact, a recent article reviewing studies of over 500,000 individuals revealed that there was no increase in sexual activity after HPV vaccination.3&nbsp;In fact, vaccinated participants actually engaged in safer sexual practices than unvaccinated participants! Also, adolescents who get the vaccine don&rsquo;t have more partners after they become sexually active.4

6. MYTH: The HPV vaccine doesn&rsquo;t protect against enough strains of human papillomavirus to be worth getting.

FACT:&nbsp;The current HPV vaccination protects against nine types of HPV. These nine have been linked to more than 90 percent of genital warts cases, 90 percent of cervical cancers, and 70 percent of anal cancer diagnoses. This vaccination is highly protective to prevent this very common viral infection and to help prevent genital warts and cancers.

7. MYTH: HPV is uncommon, and it&rsquo;s unlikely I&rsquo;ll be infected, so there&rsquo;s no need to get the HPV vaccine.

FACT:&nbsp;The genital HPV infection is the most common sexually transmitted infection and there are over 14 million new infections each year in the United States. It&rsquo;s so common that nearly every male and female will be infected with at least one type of HPV at least once in their lifetime. Currently, over 80 million Americans are infected.

Rizwana Naqvi is a freelance journalist and tweets @naqviriz; she can be reached at naqvi59rizwana@gmail.com
All facts and information is the sole responsibility of the writer]]>
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			<title>Rethinking global governance in a chaotic world</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2568097/rethinking-global-governance-in-a-chaotic-world</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2568097/rethinking-global-governance-in-a-chaotic-world#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 21 Sep 25 08:23:46 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Naveed Hussain]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[World]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2568097</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[As Western-led global governance falters, China’s GGI offers a people-centered, inclusive alternative]]>
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				<![CDATA[The UN Charter is based on the principle of sovereign equality of all member states. In practice, however, this ideal has been compromised. Power remains concentrated in the hands of a few, with the strongest nations bending the system to their will &mdash; and at their whim &mdash; giving rise to unilateralism, hegemonic ambitions, and a retreat into economic protectionism. These transgressions not only threaten global peace and stability but also undermine the credibility and authority of international institutions that were created to uphold collective governance.

There is a growing realisation that the existing structure &mdash; largely shaped by Western-centric frameworks &mdash; has become ineffective and inequitable. Before our eyes, the system has failed to prevent regional conflicts, deliver inclusive economic growth, or confront the defining collective challenge of our time &ndash; climate change, an existential threat to both the Global South and the North.

This broader failure is mirrored in recent events that have laid bare the deficiencies in global governance. Israel&rsquo;s unilateral military actions &mdash; particularly its ongoing &ldquo;genocide&rdquo; in Gaza and its strikes in Lebanon, Syria, Yemen, Iran, and Qatar &mdash; show its blatant disregard for international law and systems created to prevent such violations. Yet, even in the face of arrest warrants from the International Criminal Court, the international system has failed to hold Israeli leaders accountable for what a UN inquiry commission has described as &ldquo;war crimes&rdquo; and &ldquo;crimes against humanity&rdquo; in Gaza. Instead, Tel Aviv has been shielded by layers of political and military support of both the US and its Western allies.

The war in Ukraine provides another stark example. The United States and its partners have weaponised the international financial system to punish Russia and coerce states that refuse to align with their stance on the conflict. Such selective enforcement shows how Western powers exploit global institutions to serve narrow geopolitical interests.
Perhaps the biggest blow to global governance came from the United States itself &ndash; the system&rsquo;s original architect. The Trump administration has ignited a trade war by unilaterally imposing sweeping tariffs on trading partners, in violation of World Trade Organization (WTO) obligations. Not only that, Trump further weakened multilateral institutions by pulling out from the Paris Climate Agreement and the World Health Organization (WHO), undermining international efforts to tackle critical environmental and public health challenges.

Amid this new wave of unilateralism, the international institutions established after World War II to prevent wars, stimulate economic development, and uphold the rule of law are struggling to fulfill their founding mandates. The United Nations and its multilateral structure face a crisis of legitimacy born out of the Global South&rsquo;s underrepresentation, the erosion of international norms, and the glaring failures on climate change, pandemics, AI, and outer space governance.

Such shortcomings make systemic reform not just desirable but inevitable. And the first print of such reforms was presented by China&rsquo;s President Xi Jinping at the recent Shanghai Cooperation Organization summit in Tianjin. He proposed the Global Governance Initiative (GGI) &mdash; a comprehensive, people-centered, and action-oriented framework aimed at fostering a more just, inclusive, and democratic international order. Rooted in President Xi&rsquo;s vision of a &ldquo;community with a shared future for humanity,&rdquo; the GGI is based on five core concepts: sovereign equality, rule of law, multilateralism, people-centered governance, and tangible action.

Let&rsquo;s break it down.

First, sovereign equality. Every state, regardless of its size, strength, or wealth, deserves equal respect, voice, and participation in global decision-making. Although the UN Charter enshrines the same principle, powerful nations and blocs continue to monopolise decision-making. Thus, the GGI&rsquo;s emphasis on equality resonates strongly with the Global South, offering a transformative vision of fairness and inclusion in world affairs.

Second, universal rule of law. For governance to be credible, international law must be applied equally and consistently. However, a selective application of law by the West has eroded the credibility of global institutions like the UN Security Council, where the West holds huge structural advantages. The GGI challenges such double standards and selective enforcement, calling upon major powers to lead by example.

Third, genuine multilateralism. The GGI asserts that complex global challenges cannot be solved through unilateralism or exclusionary blocs. This stands in stark contrast to the United States&rsquo; zero-sum mentality &mdash; aptly captured by former US secretary of state Antony Blinken, who remarked at the 2024 Munich Security Conference: &ldquo;If you&rsquo;re not at the table, you&rsquo;ll probably be on the menu.&rdquo;

In the GGI vision, &ldquo;everyone is at the table&rdquo; in global decision-making &mdash; and no one is &ldquo;placed on the menu.&rdquo; The initiative affirms that the UN will remain the central platform for multilateral cooperation, while encouraging other institutions to complement its role. In contrast to exclusionary alliances and unilateral actions, the GGI envisions a more democratic, inclusive, and effective multilateral system.

Fourth, a people-centered approach. The GGI places human well-being at the core of governance. Whether addressing global challenges, including climate change, poverty, health, or digital divides, the initiative stresses that institutions must remain connected to the needs and aspirations of ordinary people. A governance system detached from the people it seeks to serve risks losing its legitimacy. This perspective directly contrasts with Western leaders&rsquo; tendency, epitomised by Trump&rsquo;s &ldquo;America First&rdquo; approach, to prioritise narrow national interests over global cooperation.

Fifth, tangible outcomes. Abstract ideals and lofty declarations are not enough. Governance must produce real, coordinated, and sustainable actions to address both urgent problems and long-term challenges. It argues that developed nations must shoulder their responsibilities by providing more public goods, while developing countries must collaborate to enhance their collective capacity.

The GGI is not an isolated initiative. It weaves into the broader framework defined by President Xi, aimed at tackling the many dimensions of global challenges. This framework also includes the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), Global Development Initiative (GDI), Global Security Initiative (GSI), and Global Civilization Initiative (GCI). Each focuses on a different dimension: the BRI on infrastructure and connectivity; the GDI on development and the UN&rsquo;s 2030 Agenda; the GSI on peace and security; and the GCI on intercultural dialogue, with the GGI serving as the overarching framework for reforming governance principles and institutions.

Some Western commentators may dismiss it as a &ldquo;theoretical proposal&rdquo;, but China&rsquo;s track record suggests otherwise. China has consistently translated its global governance vision into concrete action. From poverty eradication and technological advancement at home to South-South cooperation abroad, Beijing has shown it can translate vision into practice.

That said, the GGI doesn&rsquo;t seek to undo the existing international system, but rather to reform it, making it more inclusive, credible, and responsive to the realities of an increasingly polarised, unequal, and chaotic world. If anything, the GGI presents a compelling alternative to the dominance of unilateralism and double standards that have undermined trust in global institutions. Unlike symbolic commitments that often fall short in substance, the GGI stresses practical action and shared responsibility, especially between developed and developing nations.

While the GGI may unsettle the Western concept of a &ldquo;rules-based&rdquo; order &mdash; or what remains of it &mdash; Beijing&rsquo;s plan still holds the promise of delivering a fairer system. President Xi&rsquo;s vision of a &ldquo;community with a shared future for mankind&rdquo; can hardly prove a greater disappointment than the reality unfolding before us today: a global system tilting ever more in favour of the powerful, increasing inequalities, and leaving the world more divided than ever.]]>
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			<title>The electric question</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2568099/the-electric-question</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2568099/the-electric-question#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 21 Sep 25 08:32:55 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Nabil Tahir]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Business]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2568099</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[EVs and PHEVs arrive in Pakistan, but the road to mass adoption remains long and uncertain]]>
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				<![CDATA[The afternoon sun beats down on Karachi&rsquo;s Shahrah-e-Faisal as traffic locks into yet another jam. In an old sedan, a driver taps the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the blinking fuel gauge. At more than Rs. 270 a litre, every refill feels heavier than the last. A few lanes over, a plug-in hybrid electric vehicle (PHEV) glides forward almost noiselessly, its driver unbothered by the stop-and-go grind, knowing most of the ride will cost only a fraction in electricity.

This quiet contrast says a lot about where Pakistan finds itself. In cities like Karachi and Lahore, congestion is a way of life and the rising price of petrol has become a private calculation in every household. The fumes from endless traffic only add to skies already thick with smog. It is here that New Energy Vehicles (NEVs), a category that includes both plug-in hybrids (PHEVs) and fully electric cars (EVs), are being looked at as more than just cars. They promise relief for wallets as well as for the air people breathe.



Elsewhere, this shift has been years in the making. In the beginning, electric cars were more of a novelty. They were costly, clunky, and could not go very far on a single charge. It was only after battery technology improved that the shift began. By the mid-2000s, companies like Tesla in the US and BYD in China started to change perceptions.

Governments in Europe and Asia added fuel to the push by offering incentives and building charging networks. The result was a global surge. In 2024 alone, more than 17 million electric and plug-in hybrids were sold, and in places like China, Norway and Germany, electric cars now account for a significant share of the market.



Pakistan is late to the curve. Policy papers now talk of 30 per cent of new cars being electric by 2030, yet on the streets petrol still rules. Charging stations remain rare, and EVs are mostly limited to wealthier buyers. Even so, the entry of global players and the slow trickle of PHEVs onto Pakistani roads suggest the story of the country&rsquo;s auto market may be about to change.

The global promise of NEVs

Around the world, the case for New Energy Vehicles has moved well beyond symbolism. In 2024, more than 17 million EVs and PHEVs were sold globally, a 25 percent increase from the year before, with forecasts suggesting sales will surpass 20 million in 2025. China alone now sells more EVs in a single month than most countries sell in a year. Europe, too, has embraced the transition; in the first half of 2025, over half of all new car registrations carried some form of electrification. In Norway, nearly four out of every five new cars are fully electric, an achievement that once seemed unthinkable but is now routine, powered by years of incentives and consistent infrastructure investment.

Governments have discovered that NEVs are more than just a consumer upgrade; they are a tool of national strategy. Transport is one of the largest contributors to carbon emissions, and urban pollution has become a political issue in many countries. By replacing internal combustion engines with electric or hybrid powertrains, nations cut dependence on imported oil, save billions in foreign exchange, and reduce the smog that chokes their cities. For countries that import much of their energy, the appeal is obvious: cleaner air at home and greater resilience abroad.



The rise of NEVs has also spurred new industrial ecosystems. Thailand, for example, has positioned itself as Southeast Asia&rsquo;s EV hub by offering automakers tax breaks and duty reductions in exchange for commitments to local assembly. Indonesia has moved aggressively into the electric supply chain by promoting domestic nickel reserves for battery production. Even small markets have shown what is possible with the right approach.

These global examples show that the shift to new energy vehicles is no longer limited to rich nations. From Europe&rsquo;s motorways to the crowded streets of Southeast Asia, electric mobility is spreading on the back of climate concerns and economic logic. Pakistan, by contrast, is only just beginning. Policies have been announced and a few showrooms have opened, but adoption remains slow, infrastructure is thin, and prices are still out of reach for most buyers. The success of NEVs elsewhere shows what is possible, but also underlines how far Pakistan has to travel.

On the ground, the gap between ambition and reality is hard to miss. Other countries move quickly with clear policies and expanding networks, while Pakistan is still sketching the outlines of a plan. The government has set targets, big players have entered with big promises, and early adopters are experimenting in cities such as Karachi and Lahore. But under the optimism linger real questions about charging, affordability and whether policy can keep pace with technology.

Pakistan&rsquo;s NEV landscape

On paper, Pakistan has not ignored the rise of new energy vehicles. Targets have been set, committees formed, and policies announced with the promise of a greener transport future. The government has spoken of seeing thirty percent of all new vehicles as NEVs by 2030, and officials have laid out frameworks that appear designed to encourage investment. But on the roads of Karachi, Lahore, and Islamabad, progress is far less visible.



When asked about the policy environment, Danish Khaliq, the Vice President Sales and Strategy at Mega Motor Company (Private Limited), BYD&rsquo;s local partner in Pakistan, acknowledged that conditions had improved compared to just a few years ago. &ldquo;Two key policy frameworks exist. One is the Electric Vehicle Charging Policy, which streamlines NOCs and reduction in tariffs for charging stations. The other is the National Electric Vehicle Policy 2025-2030, which incentivizes NEV adoption. It gives subsidies on two- and three-wheelers (Up to Rs65,000 on 2 wheelers and up to PKR 400,000 on 3 wheelers.) and talks of extending this to four-wheelers in the future. Consistency and long-term implementation remain important,&rdquo; he explained. In addition to this the NEV policy aims to achieve 3,000 public charging stations by 2030.

The optimism, however, is tempered by market realities. In September 2025, Pakistan&rsquo;s Tariff Policy Board formally approved the commercial import of used vehicles up to five years old. According to the Federal Board of Revenue (FBR), these imports are subject to an additional 40% percent duty and the decision is still to be placed before the Economic Coordination Committee (ECC) for final authorization. While framed as a step toward broadening consumer choice, industry leaders see it very differently.

As Khaliq put it, &ldquo;Practically, this favors Internal Combustion Engine (ICE) vehicles, not EVs. Importers will mostly bring in old petrol and diesel cars because they&rsquo;re cheaper. That&rsquo;s counterproductive, it worsens emissions, wastes limited foreign exchange, and we don&rsquo;t even have mandatory emissions testing. Used EVs are rare, so the benefit is minimal for EV adoption.&rdquo;

From the perspective of car reviewers and consumers, the gap between what is promised and what is delivered is even starker. Sunil Munj, co-founder of PakWheels, had a different perspective. &ldquo;The truth is, despite the talk, our charging network is almost non-existent. Policies are ambitious, but the implementation is missing. Without consistent support, the market will struggle,&rdquo; he said.

The contradiction is clear. On one side, policy documents speak of streamlined approvals, subsidies, and a network of charging stations that would transform the country&rsquo;s mobility landscape by the end of the decade. At the same time, drivers can still count on one hand the number of working chargers in the country&rsquo;s biggest cities, while dealers continue to bring in second-hand petrol cars by the shipload. For now, Pakistan&rsquo;s journey with new energy vehicles sits in an uneasy middle ground, ambitious on paper, uncertain in practice, and waiting to see whether promises can turn into action.

For policymakers and automakers, the debate revolves around targets, tariffs and incentives. For ordinary drivers, the question is far simpler: will these cars make life easier, cheaper and more reliable? In cities where daily commutes stretch well past an hour and long intercity trips are routine, the real test will not be in policy documents or press conferences, but in how these vehicles fit into everyday habits and worries.

Consumer insights

For many buyers in Pakistan, the debate over new energy vehicles is not about policy frameworks or technical jargon. It is about whether these cars can realistically replace the habits formed over decades of driving petrol engines. That is why voices from within the car community carry weight, reflecting what ordinary commuters see as practical solutions.
Sunil, described PHEVs as the natural middle ground for a market like Pakistan. &ldquo;I think this machine is an ideal shift from a petrol or gasoline engine towards an EV, because PHEV is right in the center. So, when you&rsquo;re changing the habit of people that were used to driving gasoline cars, going 100 percent electric is a big step. PHEV gives you the long-range of petrol plus the ability to drive electric on city commutes. First step towards full electric.&rdquo;



&nbsp;

He pointed to commuting patterns as one of the strongest reasons why hybrids with electric range may fit better than pure EVs at this stage. &ldquo;If I look at Karachi, a one-way, 40&ndash;50-minute drive is normal. In Lahore, inter-city drives to Faisalabad, Multan, Islamabad, even Peshawar are common. For a 100 percent EV, range anxiety is real with our weak charging network. PHEV solves that problem because you get electric range and the liberty to cover long distances on fuel.&rdquo;

For Sunil, the hesitation surrounding charging is part of a natural adjustment process. He compared it to the early days of mobile phones, when users were unsure about charging habits. &ldquo;Range anxiety is the biggest barrier. Just like mobile phones, when they first came, people worried about charging. Now it&rsquo;s second nature. Once people get used to plugging in their car every night, PHEVs will become normal. They are the ideal step to ease consumers into new technology.&rdquo;
For now, PHEVs offer a practical answer to the anxieties of daily commutes, giving drivers the reassurance of fuel with the efficiency of electricity. They point to a future where habits may gradually shift, but the direction of that shift will depend on how the industry responds. Automakers and dealers now face the challenge of matching consumer expectations with products, pricing, and infrastructure, and it is here that companies like BYD have begun to stake their claim.

Shaping the market

Pakistan&rsquo;s shift toward cleaner mobility is still in its infancy, but the entry of global automakers has begun to shape how this market will look in the years ahead. Toyota, Honda, and Hyundai continue to push their conventional hybrids, while MG introduced one of the first mass-market EVs. More recently, BYD has entered with both PHEVs and EVs with launching Pakistan&#39;s first NEV below PKR 9 million, signaling that the transition will not be limited to luxury niches.

For BYD, the decision to arrive now is tied directly to the pressures facing Pakistan. Danish Khaliq explained, &ldquo;Pakistan is at a critical point. We are facing climate calamities, yet transportation is still one of the biggest consumers of imported fuel, which strains foreign exchange and harms the environment. That is why we felt the timing was right to introduce sustainable mobility. It is similar to how Pakistan skipped landline saturation and directly moved to mobile phones. We do not need to wait decades before shifting to EVs. The technology is affordable and accessible now, and we can benefit immediately.&rdquo;



&nbsp;

The question is how quickly these benefits can be realized. Khaliq noted that both EVs and PHEVs have measurable environmental gains. &ldquo;The impact depends on adoption. EVs eliminate tailpipe emissions, and even with mixed-fuel electricity, emissions drop by around 80 percent. PHEVs can reduce them by 60 to 70 percent.

For adoption, three issues need tackling: product availability, charging infrastructure, and price parity. We are addressing these by rolling out charging stations through HUBCO Green, our sister concern, who has partnered with leading Oil Marketing Companies (OMCs)like PSO and Attock Petroleum PARCO Gunvor, and also by installing chargers in malls, offices, and towers. The government is supporting with new charging policies, which helps confidence in adoption.&rdquo;

That confidence is tested by how the technologies are sequenced. Should Pakistan rely on conventional hybrids as a halfway step, or push more directly toward PHEVs and EVs? &ldquo;Hybrid electric vehicles have small batteries and limited environmental benefit. PHEVs and EVs are what Pakistan needs, because they give real emission reductions and efficiency. Both can work together. EVs give the additional benefit of maximum tailpipe emission reductions while PHEVs address range anxiety until charging infrastructure expands,&rdquo; Khaliq said.

He also reiterated the future readiness of the company&rsquo;s technology. &ldquo;BYD began as a battery company, which gives us an edge. Our Blade Battery is one of the safest in the world. It passes the nail penetration &lsquo;Everest&rsquo; test where others explode. Beyond that, BYD invests heavily in R&amp;D with 100,000 engineers working on EV platforms, making batteries denser, safer, and more efficient every year.&rdquo;

The pitch to consumers is framed not only around technology but also everyday savings. &ldquo;Buying a car is buying an asset, and Pakistani consumers are very informed. Our Ato 3 is already cheaper than many local hybrids. Driving 400 km on an EV costs around Rs. 2,500 to PKR 3,000 in electricity costs, compared to Rs. 10,000&ndash;12,000 in petrol. That is a three to four times savings on running costs.

Maintenance is also reduced to a half or one-third the cost of ICE vehicles since there is no requirement for engine oil and filters (oil).. We have set up after-sales centers across the largest cities in Pakistan, are continuously training local staff, and are building a state-of-the-art local assembly plant. Adopting EVs and PHEVs is not just about being futuristic. It is practical, economical, and necessary for Pakistan&rsquo;s environment and energy security,&rdquo; Khaliq said.

For industry observers, the arrival of new models such as the Shark 6 pickup truck could broaden the market further. Sunil Manch described it as a potential disruptor in a segment long dominated by a single option. &ldquo;In Pakistan, the pickup market had almost no options besides the Vigo. The Shark offers power, fuel economy, and cabin comfort, especially rear seat comfort, which has always been poor in pickups here. This makes it ideal for Pakistani families. But the real buyer will depend on the price. If the price is right, it will disrupt the market.&rdquo;

He also pointed out how safety and reassurance could expand the appeal beyond traditional buyers. &ldquo;Range anxiety often discourages women drivers. With the Shark 6, the combined fuel and charge range removes that risk. Its safety features and driving comfort make it reassuring for both men and women.&rdquo;
Taken together, these perspectives show how the industry is starting to respond to both opportunity and skepticism. Big names still rule Pakistan&rsquo;s roads, but newer players are starting to test old assumptions about cost, performance and safety. The real measure, though, will come once these cars leave the polished floors of showrooms and settle into the routines of daily life. It is in the experiences of actual users that the promises of technology will be weighed against the realities of the road.

Life behind the wheel

Policy debates and corporate strategies tell one side of the story. The other unfolds quietly on city streets, in homes where drivers are learning what it actually means to own and maintain a PHEV or EV in Pakistan.

Ali Raza, 38, from Lahore, said his decision came after months of watching petrol prices eat into his income. Filling the tank of his old car felt like handing over half his salary each time. The numbers pushed him toward a EV, a choice he felt was both lighter on the wallet and more in step with where the world is heading.

For Raza, the vehicle is not a luxury toy but a family workhorse. &ldquo;This is not my secondary car. It is the one I use every day, whether it is for dropping my kids to school, going to the office, but visiting relatives in another city, that&#39;s still my fear. Initially people thought I would keep it as a backup, but it has now replaced my main car.&rdquo;

The shift has already shown up in his household budget. &ldquo;On fuel alone I save close to 30,000 rupees a month. Maintenance is another relief because there is no engine oil or filters to worry about. If I compare it with my old petrol car, the running cost is almost one-third. For the first time in years, I feel like a car is not draining my wallet.&rdquo;

Yet the transition has not erased all worries. Raza admitted that resale value and after-sales service still weigh on his mind. &ldquo;My biggest concern is what happens after three or four years. Will people be willing to buy it second-hand. Will parts and service be as easily available as they are for Toyota or Honda. Charging is less of an issue for me because I installed one at home, but I still wonder what will happen on a long trip outside Lahore.&rdquo;

Khaliq informed that to meet long-term adoption targets, they have chosen to challenge the perception that electric means expensive. &ldquo;Earlier entrants introduced luxury EVs, creating a perception that electric means expensive. We challenged that with the Ato3 at Rs. 9 million, which is even competitively priced than some of the locally assembled hybrids. We also invested in charging infrastructure ourselves and set up our own experience centers and after-sales service to give customers confidence. Our strategy is simple: competitive pricing, infrastructure development, strong after-sales, and continuous consumer education,&rdquo; Khaliq explained.

The question of local capacity inevitably follows. Batteries account for a large share of an EV&rsquo;s value, and whether Pakistan can one day produce them domestically remains uncertain. &ldquo;Batteries make up 35 to 40 percent of an EV&rsquo;s value. Initially, we will import them, as Pakistan does not yet have the scale or technology to manufacture. Once local assembly grows and applications like energy storage expand, battery assembly and later manufacturing could follow. But the first step is setting up EV assembly plants, which we are already working on,&rdquo; Khaliq said.

The experiences of early adopters point to the questions that remain unanswered. What happens when thousands more make the switch. Can the infrastructure keep pace. And will the market evolve fast enough to support them.

Roadblocks on the journey

Every new technology carries its own hurdles, and Pakistan&rsquo;s early encounter with NEVs is no different. For all the optimism about cleaner transport, the realities of infrastructure, affordability, and market confidence continue to weigh heavily.



&nbsp;

For industry observers like Sunil, the most immediate concern remains charging. &ldquo;Our charging network is really in bad shape right now. Even today, you can count the number of commercial chargers in Lahore, Islamabad, and Karachi. It is such a shame. But if I see the glass half full, for the first time we have surplus electricity in the country. We just need the charging units, and BYD says they will help set those up.&rdquo; His words echo what many potential buyers fear most: the anxiety of not finding a reliable charging point when it is needed most.

Affordability is another obstacle. Khaliq pointed out that while wealthy early adopters may not depend on government support, broader uptake cannot happen without it. &ldquo;Early adopters do not necessarily rely on subsidies, but for mass adoption, price support will be needed. Globally, there are demand-side incentives like rebates and subsidies and supply-side ones such as local assembly support through tax and duties relaxation. In Pakistan, supply-side incentives are more sustainable because they encourage local assembly and industry growth, rather than draining subsidy pools quickly.&rdquo;

The frustrations are not limited to policy or infrastructure. The excitement of owning something new has not erased the day-to-day frustrations. Raza remembered how friends and family congratulated him on the savings, only for him to discover the limits of the system the first time he looked for a fast charger on the motorway. The network, he said, is patchy at best, and moments like that remind him how early Pakistan still is in this journey.

These obstacles show that adoption is not simply about technology arriving in showrooms. It is about the conditions around it, from policy execution to consumer trust]]>
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			<title>Between empire &amp; rebellion: the contradictions of Khushal Khan Khattak</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2568107/between-empire-rebellion-the-contradictions-of-khushal-khan-khattak</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2568107/between-empire-rebellion-the-contradictions-of-khushal-khan-khattak#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 21 Sep 25 10:01:01 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Furqan Ali]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Life &amp; Style]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2568107</guid>
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				<![CDATA[Warrior Poet captures the grandeur &amp; flaws of the man who shaped Pashto literature &amp; Afghan self-understanding]]>
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				<![CDATA[History doesn&#39;t repeat itself, but it does rhyme. This famous adage aptly frames the spirit of Warrior Poet: The Life, Times, and Legacy of Khushal Khan Khattak. History may not produce identical events, yet patterns of ambition, betrayal, resilience, and resistance echo across time. From the fall of empires to the struggles of nations, these recurring themes remind us that while contexts change, human nature rarely does.

The author known for his earlier work Forgotten Kings: The Story of the Hindu Shahi Dynasty, turns his lens toward one of the towering figures of Pashto literature and history: Khushal Khan Khattak, often celebrated as the national poet of Afghanistan and counted among the triad of Pashto literary giants alongside Rahman Baba and Abdul Hameed Baba. The book, however, is more than a literary biography. It is a narrative that interlaces Khushal&rsquo;s life with centuries of Afghan history, tracing roots back to Qais Abdur Rashid, the legendary progenitor of the Pashtuns, and even linking genealogical claims to biblical King Saul.

The opening chapters meticulously chart the rise and fall of Afghan tribes, from the age of Timur to the Mughal ascendancy. The narrative does not shy away from recounting brutal episodes, such as Ulugh Beg&rsquo;s treacherous banquet in which over 700 Yousufzai Maliks were massacred in the late 15th century after a feigned peace offering, leaving only six survivors. Similarly, the author reminds us of the pivotal role of the Yousufzais in Babur&rsquo;s triumph at the first battle of Panipat, which sealed the fate of Delhi and ended Ibrahim Lodhi&rsquo;s rule, the only Muslim king of Delhi to die on the battlefield. Khushal himself acknowledged this debt in verse:

&ldquo;After him was Babur King of Delhi who was indebted to the Pathans for his place.&rdquo;

The book is at its strongest when situating Khushal within the complex web of Mughal-Pashtun relations. Initially loyal to the Mughals, Khushal fought their wars and enjoyed privileges as a mansabdar, responsible for safeguarding routes between Attock and Peshawar. His early life of favour was marked by privilege and learning. He was tutored at home, and was fluent in Pashto, Persian, and Arabic, with a worldview shaped by Persian culture and an admiration for progressive thinkers such as Mirza Ansari. This cultural capital allowed him to oppose fanaticism and maintain a measured distance from orthodox clerics.

Yet, as the narrative progresses, Khushal&rsquo;s life becomes a study in contradictions. Once a trusted Mughal ally, he later turned into their fiercest critic &mdash; an evolution the author attributes to personal betrayal and imprisonment under Aurangzeb, whom Khushal had once supported against Dara Shikoh. Was this transformation driven by principle or by wounded pride? The book invites the reader to explore this ambiguity rather than dictating an answer.

This portrayal by Changez Jan is perhaps the book&rsquo;s most valuable contribution. Khushal emerges not as an unblemished hero but as a man of his time. Brave yet flawed, a warrior-poet who could both extol honour and sanction atrocities. He was capable of ordering the massacre of an entire Mayar village, yet he also crafted exquisite verses on Nishat Bagh. He championed tribal autonomy, yet spent much of his life serving imperial masters.&nbsp;

Sprinkling the historical narrative with cultural anecdotes, the book recalls, for instance, the origin of the Khattak name, stemming /from Luqman, the tribe&rsquo;s progenitor, who, after an unwise choice in marriage, was mocked as being &ldquo;stuck in the mud&rdquo; (khata). These details lend texture and humanise these larger-than-life figures of Afghan history.&nbsp;

The book also charts, with clockwork precision, the contours of Pakhtunwali &mdash; the traditional Pashtun code of conduct, built on honour, hospitality, and revenge &mdash; that now shows signs of fading. It recounts episodes like Malik Bahaku &mdash; who, despite being Khushal&rsquo;s mortal enemy, offered asylum to Khushal&rsquo;s family while Khushal himself was betrayed by Mughals &mdash; and earlier examples such as Malik Akora (Khushal&rsquo;s predecessor). When Akora killed Shah Beg Khan&rsquo;s blind brother, the Afghan custom allowed an offender either to flee or to seek the intercession of a respected patron; Akora went to Shah Beg, was clothed in prestigious attire and offered financial assistance. Yet as Akora departed, Shah Beg is said to have warned, &ldquo;Why should I kill so influential [a man as you]; depart&hellip;I will come against thee with an army,&rdquo; a threat that precipitated two fierce battles.

Of course, the profound transliteration is a gem that deserves acknowledgment alongside the historical study. Particularly captivating is the opening stanza of a poem Khushal composed during his incarceration in Ranthambore, after being summoned to Peshawar under false pretenses and trapped by the Mughals.&nbsp;

&ldquo;Evil were my dreams until I saw the dawn, / My eyes I could not close, restless I lay upon my bed; / Then I rose from my couch, my head was aching sore&hellip;&rdquo;

The poetic influence of the Pakhtun gladiator does not end with him. He invented a shorthand or cipher called zanjiri (&lsquo;chained&rsquo;), and also laid the foundation for a simpler form of writing that eschewed rhythmic prose &mdash; unlike the legacy of the time, which often sacrificed clarity for rhyme. In his progeny (of 57 sons and numerous daughters), five of his sons inherited this literary talent, and Halima, his daughter, holds a quiet stature among Pashto poets. As mentioned in Pata Khazana, she delved into mystical poetry:

&ldquo;I praised the compassionate Lord / In more than one way. / When the worldly love of Ayaz / My heart managed to disown, / I felt prouder than I would have / Sitting on Mahmud&rsquo;s throne&hellip;&rdquo;

In the end, Warrior Poet resists the temptation to enshrine Khushal as a flawless symbol of Pashtun valor. Instead, it offers a candid exploration of a man negotiating power, loyalty, and identity in an age of empires. The author&rsquo;s restraint in imposing judgment is refreshing; he allows facts and contradictions to speak for themselves. For readers accustomed to sanitised hero-worship, this approach may be a bit unsettling, but it is precisely what makes the work historically honest.
Khushal, as portrayed here, is neither saint nor villain.

He is profoundly human. And perhaps that is the point. Our discomfort lies not in Khushal&rsquo;s imperfections but in our insistence on perfection in those we call heroes.&nbsp;

Furqan Ali is a Peshawar-based researcher who works in the financial sector. He can be reached at alifurqan647@gmail.com&nbsp;
All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the writer&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;]]>
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			<title>Materialists review: love, money &amp; the freedom of choice</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2568106/materialists-review-love-money-the-freedom-of-choice</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2568106/materialists-review-love-money-the-freedom-of-choice#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 21 Sep 25 09:51:04 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Faiza Shah]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Life &amp; Style]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2568106</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[The film is about the silent negotiations women make every day between desire &amp; survival]]>
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				<![CDATA[We were raised on the story that love is pure, and that the noblest marriages are those untouched by calculation. Films, songs and books tell us to seek companionship for the heart, not for the wallet. Most Pakistani elders tell us to be more practical &mdash; meaning marry for social and financial stability. Fairy tales assure us that love alone can weather every storm. Yet reality has shown again and again that old blas&eacute; saying is true: when poverty knocks on the door, love flies out the window. This proverb has origins not in one corner of the world; it is traced back to African, Serbian and German cultures. It goes to show that money is not an afterthought; it shapes whether a marriage becomes liberation or confinement be it in any part of the world. A sense of security in a marriage is dependent on the coexistence of love and physical comfort.

Celine Song&rsquo;s latest film Materialists pushes us into that uncomfortable recognition. At first glance, it is an easy romantic trope: a love triangle. Lucy (Dakota Johnson) is torn between two men: one wealthy and secure, the other broke but emotionally present. She herself is a professional matchmaker working for a proper firm with HR and legal departments. Everyday she tries to manage the expectations of men and women in order to find them compatible partners. Now she can&rsquo;t help but apply the same calculations of compatibility to her own decision of settling with a man.

Most women who watch the film will see it isn&rsquo;t simply about romance. It is about the terms under which women are allowed to desire, and what they are forced to sacrifice in order to be respectable, safe, or even simply survive. Watching it, I couldn&rsquo;t help but think of countless women I know in Pakistan, weighing their own futures under the glare of family expectations and the fear of financial dependence.

Lucy&rsquo;s dilemma feels almost universal in its simplicity: Harry (Pedro Pascal) is filthy rich and offers comfort and ease; John (Chris Evans), her ex, has zilch to his name and offers love and intensity. &nbsp;At first glance, her choice is framed as an individual question of the heart. But for women in our part of the world, the decision is never just individual. A rishta is rarely about two people &mdash; it is about families aligning, reputations safeguarded, and practicalities negotiated. When parents describe a &ldquo;good proposal,&rdquo; they often list job titles, degrees, and passports before mentioning compatibility. Lucy&rsquo;s suitors could easily be transposed into a drawing room in Lahore or Karachi, where relatives debate which match will bring the safest life. The answer will always be the rich guy.&nbsp;

What gives Materialists its unexpected gravitas are the plot turns that complicate what might otherwise feel like a simple triangle. Rich-and-handsome Harry is not written as flawless&mdash;his privilege carries its own blind spots, and the comfort he offers is never free of compromises. The cracks in his perfection remind us that money may ease life, but it does not insulate against emptiness or distance.&nbsp;

Then there is Lucy&rsquo;s professional life, where she is confronted with the assault of a client. That subplot feels almost like an intrusion from another register of reality, but it lands with weight: a reminder that women&rsquo;s bodies and choices are constantly under siege, regardless of class or romance. The incident shadows Lucy&rsquo;s own deliberations, underscoring that the stakes of &ldquo;choice&rdquo; are not just personal, but also shaped by a world where safety itself is precarious.

In Pakistan, marriage is often less a private romance than a collective project. Women grow up knowing their choices will be scrutinised not just by their parents but also by the extended network of relatives who measure worth by stability and affluence. Without robust safety nets &mdash; financial or social &mdash; marrying &ldquo;well&rdquo; is often seen as the only insurance policy. To be single for too long is to court whispers; to marry a man without means is to risk dependency that can spiral into vulnerability or even abuse.&nbsp;

This is not only a South Asian burden. Around the world, women navigate the same push and pull, against varying contexts. A woman in New York may delay marriage to focus on her career, exercising a kind of agency less available in Karachi. A woman in London may choose passion over stability, buffered by the possibility of a welfare state or easier access to work. A single mother in Turkey may find herself carving a life outside marriage altogether, judged for her independence but surviving nonetheless. In each case, class, family, and the unspoken rules of society shape the spectrum of choice. What looks like freedom in one context can feel like constraint in another, but the undercurrent is the same &mdash; no choice is ever completely free of calculation.

One of the strengths of Materialists is that it resists painting Lucy as shallow or mercenary. Too often, women in such stories are judged harshly &mdash; gold diggers if they choose wealth, foolish romantics if they choose love. Song treats Lucy&rsquo;s dilemma with dignity, letting the audience sit with the weight of her choice rather than sneer at it. That, in itself, feels radical. Because in our own society, women rarely get the benefit of such nuance. A woman who asks for stability is branded &ldquo;demanding,&rdquo; yet the same demand from a man is called ambition. A woman who marries for love and ends up struggling is pitied for being na&iuml;ve, while a man in the same situation is simply unlucky.

This double standard is why Lucy&rsquo;s story resonates beyond the screen. Her choice dramatises a truth most women already know: there is no &ldquo;right&rdquo; answer. Whether she marries Harry or John or some Dick, her life will be interpreted, judged, and possibly diminished in the eyes of others. What matters is not whether she chose love or money, but whether she claimed the right to decide at all. That is the frontier still contested in many cultures: the belief that a woman&rsquo;s autonomy in love and life is legitimate, even when her choices make others uncomfortable.

Materialists lingers on this question of math, how good is a package deal after subtracting the compromises?&nbsp;

***SPOILER ALERT***

Song frames Lucy&rsquo;s decision as an act of rebellion against the coldness of money. She chooses John, affirming love as the higher calling. It is a neat ending, the kind cinema often craves. But off-screen, the stakes are messier. For many women, particularly in countries like ours, to ignore financial stability is not rebellion, it is risk. Dependency is not just an inconvenience, it can determine whether a woman has the ability to leave an unhappy marriage, to support children, to live with dignity.

This does not mean that caring about money cheapens love. It means that love without security can become brittle, collapsing under the weight of unmet needs. The myth that women should choose only for love is, in itself, a way of disciplining them &mdash; branding any acknowledgment of money as &ldquo;materialistic,&rdquo; even when survival depends on it. What if, instead, we recognised that wanting both affection and stability is not greed but a deeply human wish? What if we stopped framing women&rsquo;s choices as either calculating or na&iuml;ve, and saw them as attempts to carve a life within constraints they did not design?

Perhaps that is the real story &mdash; demanding a world where women&rsquo;s choices are not narrowed into impossible binaries. Where the courage lies not in renouncing money for love, nor in renouncing love for money, but in asserting that both are worthy, both are needed, both are possible.]]>
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			<title>Born into risk: the hidden cost of cousin marriages in K-P</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2568105/born-into-risk-the-hidden-cost-of-cousin-marriages-in-k-p</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2568105/born-into-risk-the-hidden-cost-of-cousin-marriages-in-k-p#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 21 Sep 25 09:44:24 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Abdur Razzaq]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2568105</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[As thousands of children battle thalassaemia, gaps in screening &amp; policy continue to put families at risk]]>
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				<![CDATA[Seven-year-old Muhammad Aban, from a poor family and currently admitted to Benazir Children&rsquo;s Hospital in Mardan (BCHM), longs to play with other children but is too weak due to complications from thalassaemia.

Diagnosed when he was just 11 months old, he needs two to three blood transfusions every week to survive. His mother, Aneela Bibi, says he has spent much of his childhood in hospitals undergoing treatment. Aban&rsquo;s 11-year-old elder brother also suffers from the same disease and has survived only because of regular blood donations, she shares.

&ldquo;First, we would ask relatives and neighbours, and then my husband&rsquo;s friends would donate blood for our children,&rdquo; she says. &ldquo;But later they became reluctant to visit hospitals and donate blood. Although the hospital now provides free blood, the treatment of other complications caused by thalassaemia is quite difficult for us.&rdquo;

&ldquo;When my sons face a shortage of blood, they start vomiting, have digestion issues and cannot eat properly, so we have to rush them to the hospital for a transfusion,&rdquo; she explains. &ldquo;It always becomes a difficult time, especially as we are a poor family.&rdquo;

Aban&rsquo;s parents are cousins, and when they were getting married, no premarital genetic screening was done, which is vital for identifying thalassaemia and other genetic disorders. &ldquo;Our first baby girl is healthy, but later these two sons were diagnosed with thalassaemia,&rdquo; says Aneela Bibi. &ldquo;In our society, there is no concept of such tests before marriage; that is why we did not consider screening before matrimony. Also, these are the first thalassaemia cases in our family.&rdquo;

The Hamza Foundation, a Peshawar-based welfare hospital and thalassaemia centre, reports that around 25,000 people in Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa (K-P) suffer from thalassaemia, with 1,500 registered for treatment with the centre. Nearly 6,000 new cases emerge each year and doctors affiliated with the hospital say 80 to 90 per cent occur in families with cousin marriages, a common practice in the province.

A recent research study conducted by researchers from Islamia College University Peshawar, Abdul Wali Khan University Mardan, and Government Postgraduate College Dargai, Malakand reveals that, in addition to thalassaemia, there are about 131 rare genetic disorders, also known as orphan diseases, 71 per cent of which are associated with consanguineous marriages.

Dr Qaiser Zaman, a human geneticist specialising in rare genetic disorders and Assistant Professor at Government Postgraduate College Dargai, Malakand, shared that thalassaemia is more widely known among the public compared to other rare genetic disorders, most of which are associated with consanguineous marriages.

&ldquo;About 71 per cent of rare genetic disorders are caused by autosomal recessive mutations,&rdquo; he explains. &ldquo;These are diseases that remain hidden in parents but when passed on to their children, they appear in the form of disease in their bodies. The rate of orphan diseases in Saudi Arabia is recorded at 83 per cent, while in the Middle East it is 50 per cent, due to the common practice of cousin marriages in Muslim societies such as these.&rdquo;

He mentioned that in the study, a total of 1,374 males and females from 272 families across K-P suspected of having rare genetic disorders were enrolled, adding the index patient from each family was screened using Whole Exome Sequencing (WES), which successfully diagnosed 69.5 per cent of the cases.

&ldquo;In this study, we have described 131 genetic disorders, but the actual number may go far beyond this,&rdquo; he adds.
The study reveals that among the families diagnosed through WES, autosomal recessive mutations were the most common (70.8 per cent), largely resulting from cousin marriages. These were followed by autosomal dominant mutations (14.6 per cent) observed in non-cousin unions. X-linked hemizygous mutations accounted for 8.3 per cent, while compound heterozygous recessive mutations were reported in 6.3 per cent of cases.

The occurrence of compound heterozygosity indicates that the Pakhtun population is becoming increasingly saturated with recessive mutations, which may also appear in non-consanguineous marriages.

The enrolled families were further classified into major groups: skin disorders (19.1 per cent), vision-related disorders (18.4 per cent), hearing impairment (9.6 per cent, including both syndromic and non-syndromic cases), neurological disorders (37.7 per cent), and skeletal disorders (25.4 per cent). Within the neurological group, the distribution included intellectual disability (16 per cent), physical disabilities (8.8 per cent), epilepsy (5.4 per cent), and muscular dystrophies (3.2 per cent).

Dr Zaman pointed out that the government&rsquo;s lack of attention to this matter is primarily the reason why the disease cannot be diagnosed locally, as there are no diagnostic facilities available.

He shared that diagnosing these diseases abroad is very expensive, adding that if the government provides WES facilities to local medical universities and research centres, it could be done at a lower cost without sending human samples to developed countries for screening.

According to Dr Abbas Ali Khan, a paediatrician at BCHM, about 300 thalassaemia patients are registered at the facility, where children such as Muhammad Aban receive free medicines, screening, as well as blood transfusions according to their needs.

&ldquo;On a daily basis, two to three thalassaemia patients are admitted to the ward with complications, while in the OPD about 50 per cent of patients visit us with thalassaemia, which shows how serious the situation is,&rdquo; he says.
Dr Khan added that most thalassaemia patients die at an early age, while some reach up to 14 years but with health complications.

The Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa Assembly passed the Preventive Health Act 2009, which makes premarital Hepatitis-C and thalassaemia screening tests mandatory for both bride and groom, whose results would be obtained by the nikah or marriage registrar.

However, according to Dr Abbas, the law is not fully implemented, and the required tests are often not conducted by either side.

&ldquo;Implementation of the law is very important,&rdquo; he emphasises. &ldquo;Like in the case of thalassaemia, the government should make screening tests for other genetic or orphan diseases mandatory before matrimony in order to safeguard the future of our forthcoming generations.&rdquo;

For families like Aneela Bibi&rsquo;s, the struggle against thalassaemia and other inherited disorders is not only a medical challenge but also a social one &mdash; shaped by tradition, lack of awareness, and gaps in public health policy. Without widespread implementation of premarital screening, investment in local diagnostic facilities, and consistent public education, the cycle of preventable suffering will continue. Yet, with timely action, the next generation could be spared the ordeal that is now endured by children like Muhammad Aban.

Abdur Razzaq is a Peshawar-based multimedia journalist. He tweets @TheAbdurRazzaq
All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the writer]]>
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			<title>Pak-Saudi defence pact: an old brotherhood recast for a dangerous age</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2568096/pak-saudi-defence-pact-an-old-brotherhood-recast-for-a-dangerous-age</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2568096/pak-saudi-defence-pact-an-old-brotherhood-recast-for-a-dangerous-age#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 21 Sep 25 08:11:07 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Inam Ul Haque]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2568096</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[SMDA is a watershed, shielding KSA from Israel’s threat while offering Pakistan a vital economic lifeline]]>
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				<![CDATA[Years ago, I was meeting the Saudi Ambassador as my job while in service. He told me that during his pre-departure protocol meeting with the King, his majesty wagged his finger at him to emphasise the importance of Pak-Saudi ties. &nbsp;So, after decades of groundwork, that bilateralism has been at last formalised into a &lsquo;Strategic Mutual Defence Agreement (SMDA)&rsquo; signed by both sides in the Royal Court of Al Yamamah Palace in Riyadh on 17 September 2025.

The joint statement on the MOFA, Islamabad website describes the landmark Agreement purposed &ldquo;to strengthen joint deterrence against any aggression. The agreement states that any aggression against either country shall be considered an aggression against both&rdquo;. &nbsp;Whereas other details are not public, hence speculations would be counterproductive and unneeded, the cited presser points towards a NATO style partnership, where an attack on one country would be warranting a &lsquo;joint response&rsquo;. &nbsp;

Use of Pakistani military muscle in support of the Kingdom, and the Kingdom&rsquo;s political, diplomatic and financial support has a long history hence the SMDA is not surprising for those in the know. India, after studying the proposals, has hoped Riyadh would be cognizant of Indian sensitivities, without elaborating.

Historic legacy&nbsp;

Recognising an independent Pakistan in 1947, Pakistan and KSA signed a &ldquo;Treaty of Friendship,&rdquo; in 1951, laying the foundation of strategic, political, military, and economic cooperation, later morphing into people-to-people, government-to-government, military-to-military, and business-to-business ties spanning almost eight decades. &nbsp;

In the security sector alone, since the 1970s, Pakistani soldiers are stationed in Saudi Arabia for the sacred calling of protecting the Harmain Shareefain. &nbsp;Training cooperation for officers and men at Pakistani military academies and other institutions is now longstanding. &nbsp;Advisory support to the Saudi military is in place. &nbsp;Extensive collaboration with the Royal Saudi land, air, naval forces, air defence and Royal Guards is ongoing, including secondment of fighter pilots and doctors to the Kingdom. &nbsp;

PAF fighter pilots took part in the Al-Wadiah War between Saudi Arabia and South Yemen in 1969, whereas Pakistan Army Engineers built Saudi fortifications along Saudi border with Yemen etc. Tabuk hosted a Pakistani armoured brigade in the 1970s and 80s under another agreement famously called the &lsquo;1982 Protocol&rsquo;. &nbsp;During the first Gulf War in August 1990, an infantry and an armoured brigade from Pakistan were deployed along Saudi-Iraq border. &nbsp;Pakistani battalions remain deployed in Mecca. &nbsp;All military services from both sides conduct regular security and counter-terrorism exercises. &nbsp;
The Kingdom has extensively collaborated in the development of Pakistan&rsquo;s main battle tank (MBT) Al-Khalid. Joint R&amp;D and defence manufacturing is a continuing process. &nbsp;Saudi Arabia also imports large quantity of Pakistan Ordnance Factories (POF)-manufactured arms and ammunition. &nbsp;In 2016 alone, POF exported arms and munitions worth $81 million to Riyadh. &nbsp;

Pakistan was also one of the key intermediaries in the Al-Yamamah arms deal, a series of arms contracts in the 1970s between the Kingdom and the UK, facilitating payment for Western arms through Saudi oil. Pakistan&rsquo;s former COAS, Gen Raheel Sharif, commands the 41-nation &lsquo;Islamic Military Counter Terrorism&rsquo; coalition, headquartered in Riyadh. &nbsp;
The list goes on. &nbsp;So, what sparked the Agreement?

The catalyst

Israel, the new sheriff in the Middle East, was always an essential component of the Saudi threat perception. &nbsp;Tabuk deployment is a case in point. &nbsp;Although the bonhomie under the Abraham Accord, and America&rsquo;s enthusiastic push towards normalisation of relations between Riyadh and Tel Aviv had created a lot of hopeful momentum, the US dithering for extending a nuclear umbrella to Riyadh and Washington&rsquo;s unequivocal support to Israel remained major impediments to any breakthrough. &nbsp;Recent incidents led to the Saudi change of heart under the very dynamic, savvy and progressive crown prince Mohammad Bin Salman&rsquo;s (MBS).

One, Israel&rsquo;s brutal war of Palestinian extermination in Gaza under its strategy of Dahiya or &lsquo;domicide&rsquo; (rendering places uninhabitable through destruction) and America&rsquo;s outright callous support to Israel. &nbsp;Two, the joint US-Israeli attack on Iran in June this year and the extensive usage of surrender phraseology in the arrogant conduct of that war. &nbsp;Three, the September 9, Israeli attack on Qatar, America&rsquo;s major non-NATO ally, host to the sprawling Al-Udaid airbase, upgraded with Qatari money, accommodating US, UK and Australian troops; and the fact that Doha remains a major buyer of high-cost US military hardware. &nbsp;Sheriff Netanyahu has categorically said, he sees it right to pursue &lsquo;terrorists&rsquo; anywhere in the world, under his &lsquo;presumed&rsquo; notion of self-defence. &nbsp;Israel under Bibi&rsquo;s right-wing government has become a regional and global threat and that greatly unsettles the Middle East.

The thinking in the Arab world, once clamouring for US protection, changed overnight, especially after the 10 Israeli missiles struck Doha. &nbsp;The US feigned ignorance initially and then conceded Israel had informed it on very short notice. &nbsp;The fickleness and unreliability of US interlocution have led to a search for alternatives, like the notion of some sort of &lsquo;collective security&rsquo; among the Arab/Islamic states, as stated in the communiqu&eacute; after the extraordinary and joint AL-OIC Summit in Doha on 15 September.

Collective security is a messy concept, and even NATO finds interoperability hard during deployments, hence the sensible push for multilateral and bilateral arrangements. &nbsp;And that provides a backdrop and urgency to the Saudi-Pak Defence Agreement that took almost a year to formalise.

The treaty &amp; the agreement

The nuances and the debate about the binding nature of the treaty versus agreement aside; and given that speculation without knowing the exact Agreement details is misplaced; it is suffice to mention that any &lsquo;defence agreement&rsquo; would and should deal with certain essentials like joint appreciation of the situation, threat perception and response options for perceived &lsquo;aggression&rsquo;, consequent training collaboration, required deployment of forces, basing possibilities, employment details in various scenarios, and the entailing logistic support, command and control modalities and other plans. &nbsp;The pact also might entail joint R&amp;D, defence production, and trade in defence software and hardware.

Threat perception

As highlighted in the changed global and regional environment, Tel Aviv under its &lsquo;present&rsquo; leadership poses a threat to both Pakistan and the Kingdom. &nbsp;Threat is the sum total of intention and capability. &nbsp;Israel possesses both. In military methodology, environment (global, regional and domestic) leads to threat perception and assessment, which in turn goes into exploring response options; and response provides basis for the developmental strategy, dealing with equipping the force. &nbsp;Israel poses non-contact threat to KSA and Pakistan. &nbsp;And Israel combined with India and a troubled Afghanistan provides a 2.5 front contact war scenario, under Pakistan&rsquo;s complicated threat matrix.&nbsp;

Without gunning for a war with IDF, an over-confident and militarily ascendant Israel does pose a significant threat to both nations, after its conduct of war in Gaza, possible annexation of West bank, imposition of humiliating terms on Hezbollah in Lebanon, offensive posturing to Syria&rsquo;s new Government and after fighting a bruising conflict with Iran. &nbsp;&lsquo;Deterrence&rsquo; against Israel militarily would be marginally possible in the conventional domains, but more significant and robust in the non-conventional or nuclear domain. &nbsp;As an extension of the &lsquo;nuclear umbrella&rsquo;, remains the soul of the Agreement, therefore, &lsquo;defensive deployment of non-conventional means alone&rsquo; would constitute &lsquo;credible deterrence&rsquo;. &nbsp;&nbsp;

Pakistan, thanks to Allah, its military, its scientific backbone and support from Saudi Arabia today possesses a nuclear triad (air, land and sea-based), which is reliable, fail-safe and multiplatform. &nbsp;Pakistan can effectively provide the needed nuclear umbrella to Riyadh, with the resolve to use it, if push comes to shove. &nbsp;In any case, any attack on Saudi Arabia raises an immense and uncontrollable emotional reaction in Pakistan. &nbsp;The November 1979 standoff by terrorist Juhayman al-Utaybi whose militants seized Haram Shareef in Mecca, is a case in point. &nbsp;While Pakistani commandos cleared the holy mosque, in Islamabad, the US embassy was burnt to ashes, as rumours of an American hand were rife. &nbsp;And by the evening, no liquor store in Peshawar, where one lived, remained intact.&nbsp;

There is a strong inkling that any exchange between Israel with either Pakistan or the Kingdom would descend precariously into the nuclear domain, given the political and psychological costs involved. &nbsp;Perceived attack on Harmain raises immense psychological cost; and attack on Pakistani nuclear sites, although of no utility other than embarrassing Pakistan&rsquo;s military, would and should entaila&nbsp; quick, decisive, and punishing response.

Basing options of mainly the non-conventional capability, under the Agreement, as and when worked out, mitigates and deters any Israeli adventurism against the Kingdom and against Pakistan. &nbsp;And it also fortifies Pakistan&rsquo;s response options against a bellicose India under its &lsquo;new normal&rsquo;. &nbsp;It compensates for Pakistan&rsquo;s linear geography, range and reach complications. &nbsp;&lsquo;Shaheens&rsquo; would find skies less contested, saturation and suppression of the enemy air defence (SEAD) relatively easy, and penetration through &lsquo;slings and domes&rsquo; possible, if the calling &lsquo;ever&rsquo; came.

The implications

First, the Agreement upgrades bilateral defence ties to the next level, integrating Pakistan&rsquo;s military muscle with the Kingdom&rsquo;s financial power; strengthening &lsquo;joint deterrence&rsquo;; and ensuring a binding security partnership. &nbsp;The optics of the visit and the high-profile presence of Field Marshal Syed Asim Munir underscore the military&#39;s stakes on either side. &nbsp;Even in turbulent times, Pak-Saudi military diplomacy has remained robust.

Second, there is speculation that commitment to joint defence might drag Pakistan into unwanted conflicts, like the Saudi pressure on Pakistan in 2015 to join Houthi war in Yemen. &nbsp;Pakistan&rsquo;s successive governments have avoided such involvement, but in the changed circumstances, it would be good to be seen to be counted. &nbsp;Hedging for middle powers like Pakistan with a weak economy is never beneficial. &nbsp;Pakistan-Saudi Arabia and China is the emerging entente. &nbsp;Riyadh&rsquo;s own defence diversification, investment and closer collaboration with China could be positively leveraged. &nbsp;Pak-Saudi jointness would certainly suppress potential conflicts.

Third, with regard to China, the triad of Chinese technology in surveillance, stealth, and AI &mdash; now decisively comparable to the West, as shown during the May Indo-Pakistan standoff &mdash; Pakistani military strength, demonstrated through the effective use of the J-10C/PL-15E combination and integration of other kill-networks, and Saudi financing could form a stabilising force in an otherwise volatile Middle East and South Asia.

Fourth, contrary to common perception, the Agreement reinforces Pak-India deterrence and is likely to work for peace between India and Pakistan, because of Riyadh-New Delhi commercial interests (US $43 billion bilateral trade in 2023-24, and growing); the Indian diaspora in the Kingdom (2.6 million); and New Delhi&rsquo;s reliance on the Saudi (16-20%) and Gulf oil. &nbsp;The fact that India would not take the US bait of standing up militarily to neighbourly China and given the mercurial nature of the Indo-US relationship under the Trump presidency continuing until 2028, India, hopefully, might&rsquo; shun the path of conflict in its rise as a regional power, and instead value cooperation over competition and amity over arrogance in its dealings with Islamabad.

Fifth, GCC would enthusiastically welcome the Saudi initiative, being the most powerful and largest Arab nation. &nbsp;Most GCC sheikhdoms are US-UK protectorates, unable to pursue divergent and more independent policies. &nbsp;This might pave the way for more strategic independence in due course of time. &nbsp;This template in due course could be extended to UAE and Qatar, Pakistan&rsquo;s two key allies, with mutual consensus. &nbsp;Deputy PM Dar and Defence Minister Khawaja Asif have alluded to the expansion of the Agreement.

Sixth, KSA still enjoys and will continue to enjoy a special relationship with Washington that has traditionally been used for Pakistan&rsquo;s benefit. &nbsp;As of mid-2025, some 40,000&ndash;50,000 US troops remain in 19 US bases across the Middle East, including the Prince Sultan Air Base outside Riyadh. &nbsp;If Israel could be restrained, the Agreement does not impinge upon America&rsquo;s core interest in the region.

Seventh, there is a feeling that, consequent to the Agreement, Pakistan risks entanglement in Saudi Arabia&rsquo;s regional rivalries, like with Iran and Yemen. &nbsp;However, the US/Israeli attack on Iran has greatly altered the regional security paradigm, and Iran, during the emergency AL/OIC session, emphasised Muslim unity. &nbsp;Pro-Pakistan sentiment in Tehran consequent to Pakistan&rsquo;s support during the cited crisis, and earlier rapprochement between Iran and KSA augur well. &nbsp;This is likely to diminish the Houthi threat to the Kingdom as well. &nbsp;

So, in a nutshell, this watershed Agreement is a paradigm shift that was years in the making. &nbsp;It addresses the Kingdom&rsquo;s vulnerability against a nuclear-armed, bellicose and uncontrolled Israel, while at the same time, it extends an economic lifeline to Pakistan. &nbsp;It essentially is a defensive framework that is Riyadh and Islamabad&rsquo;s sovereign right. &nbsp;Naysayers and detractors need to be more restrained in their commentary. &nbsp;

Time to celebrate without being unnecessarily apologetic. &nbsp;Nations do what they do in their selfish national interest, without fear and appeasement!
&nbsp;&nbsp;

Inam ul Haque is a retired Pakistan Army major general who writes on defence, global affairs and political sociology. He can be reached at tayyarinam@hotmail.com and his Twitter handle @20_Inam
All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the author
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			<title>When hospitals become HIV vectors</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2564278/when-hospitals-become-hiv-vectors</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2564278/when-hospitals-become-hiv-vectors#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 31 Aug 25 10:05:16 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Tufail Ahmed]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Health]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2564278</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[Lack of adherence to infection control SOPs has turned healthcare facilities into hubs of deadly outbreaks]]>
			</description>
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				<![CDATA[Whether for a minor injury or a life-saving procedure, hospitals are where sick people rush to in the hopes of getting better. However, when proper infection control protocols are not followed, a patient walking in for a simple blood test might leave the hospital unknowingly carrying HIV-AIDS.

According to the Better Health Channel, basic infection control protocols for HIV-AIDS at hospitals involve the disposal of single-use syringes in approved sharps containers, decontamination and sterilization of reusable medical devices after each use, disposal of single use medical devices, provision of personal protective equipment (PPE) gowns, gloves and eyewear for healthcare workers, and cleaning of spilled body fluids and laundry as per strict guidelines.

Although hospital officials in Pakistan assure the presence of infection control departments at government hospitals, in reality, these bodies remain non-functional and adherence to standard operating procedures (SOPs) is highly unsatisfactory. The human immunodeficiency virus (HIV) living in the bloodstream is easily transmitted through contact with an infected person&rsquo;s bodily fluids, which could be present on unsterilized medical apparatus and work surfaces. Pakistan&rsquo;s lack of an effective strategy to prevent diseases is one reason why the number of HIV-AIDS patients, currently around 290,000, continues to grow.



A patient&rsquo;s family at the Civil Hospital&rsquo;s Infection Unit revealed that their brother, diagnosed with HIV in 2020, fled the hospital due to unhygienic conditions. After persuasion, the family got him re-registered at the Lyari General Hospital, where he now receives monthly medication. &ldquo;The appalling condition of hygiene at public hospitals worsens the patient&rsquo;s mental and physical health, burdening their families. Medical neglect and lack of sanitation are major contributors to the spread of infections in these healthcare facilities,&rdquo; claimed the family.

Similarly, Asghar, whose elder brother acquired HIV-AIDS during the 2023 outbreak, recounted his family&rsquo;s tough journey. &ldquo;My completely healthy brother used to work as a lab technician at a large private hospital in Karachi. Suddenly, his health started deteriorating and it was revealed that he had contracted HIV. Once his treatment started, my brother had to quit his job,&rdquo; shared Asghar.

Dr Pir Ghulam Nabi Shah Jilani, Deputy Director at the Karachi Health Department, claimed that infection prevention committees were functional in government hospitals. &ldquo;These committees, comprising qualified doctors and pathologists, are tasked with ensuring sterilization and proper disposal of medical waste. However, their effectiveness remains questionable,&rdquo; noted Dr Jilani, while speaking of Sindh, where HIV transmission has increased by 139.6 per cent over the past five years, with 1,438 cases reported in 2020 and 3,446 cases recorded in 2024.

Professor Dr Faisal Mahmood, an infectious disease specialist at the Aga Khan University Hospital, emphasized the urgent need to implement infection control protocols at hospitals and clinics. &ldquo;Patients can be carriers, and hospitals must treat every patient as potentially infectious,&rdquo; said Dr Mahmood, while mentioning medical protocols, which were clearly ignored in Punjab, where healthcare facilities&rsquo; lamentable adherence to infection control dragged multiple patients towards sickness and death.



In October 2024, over 24 nephrology patients acquired the HIV virus at the Nishtar Hospital in Multan, which is the largest facility offering dialysis to over 200 registered patients from South Punjab. During the investigation, it was revealed that a patient with HIV was dialyzed without proper sterilization protocols, which led to the spread of the virus to other patients due to the negligence of hospital staff.

Sources revealed that inspections of other government hospitals also found similar lapses in infection control protocols for HIV. Health Minister Salman Rafiq handed the matter over to the Punjab Healthcare Commission for further investigation. However, doctors at the Nishtar Hospital did not cooperate, and when summoned to the Lahore office, they presented excuses and resisted.

When contacted, the Punjab Healthcare Commission declined to provide further details on the grounds that it was investigating the matter and monitoring adherence to infection control SOPs. Dr Zahid Ansari, former Head of the Sindh Blood Transfusion Authority, clarified the difference between HIV-positive individuals and AIDS patients.

&ldquo;HIV-positive individuals should not donate blood, and their used medical tools like syringes or razors must not be reused. The virus can be identified through specific blood tests and viral load analysis. Four key diseases &mdash; HIV, Hepatitis B, Hepatitis C, and malaria &mdash; must be screened in blood tests before transfusions,&rdquo; emphasized Dr Ansari.

In the Nishtar Hospital incident, it was clear that screening procedures were completely ignored. Despite the gravity of the situation, the issue has once again disappeared into the background in Punjab, where more than 7,000 HIV cases were reported last year.

Shehzad, a 60-year-old dialysis patient at the Jinnah Hospital in Lahore, conveyed his worries after the Multan hospital outbreak. &ldquo;After hearing about what happened at the Nishtar Hospital, I live in fear. Even routine procedures now feel dangerous. Patients are constantly worried that they may contract a serious illness at any time due to medical negligence,&rdquo; revealed Shehzad.

Similar concerns have mounted over the poor performance of the Infection Prevention Committee and the Healthcare Commission in Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa, which has observed an 888.1 per cent increase in the incidence of HIV-AIDS over the past three years, with 816 cases reported in 2022, 5,543 cases reported in 2023, and an alarming 8,063 cases recorded in 2024.

Major medical teaching institutions (MTIs) in Peshawar, including the Lady Reading Hospital, Khyber Teaching Hospital, and Hayatabad Medical Complex, along with district-level Tehsil Headquarter Hospitals (THQs) are failing to maintain effective infection control and sterilization systems. Instead of preventing diseases, these hospitals are allegedly turning into hotbeds of infectious outbreaks.

A technician at the Hayatabad Medical Complex, speaking on the condition of anonymity, revealed that standard operating procedures (SOPs) for infection control were not being followed at all. &ldquo;We have repeatedly requested the administration to provide basic supplies for infection control. However, now we do not even have spirit or syringes available, let alone anything else for infection prevention,&rdquo; informed the technician.

Dr Amir Taj, an infection control expert, told The Express Tribune that it was unfortunate that both the Infection Control Committee and the Healthcare Commission, which were created for the very purpose of controlling the spread of transmissible infections, were failing to do their job.

&ldquo;Instead of controlling infections, the Healthcare Commission seems more focused on collecting hospital fees and registration charges. Infections like HIV, Hepatitis, and others are rapidly spreading, costing the government billions of rupees each year. If proper infection control systems were in place at hospitals, patients would recover faster, and the national treasury would also benefit,&rdquo; opined Dr Taj.

On the other hand, Dr Tariq Hayat, Director of the HIV Control Programme, stated that SOPs for infection control were strictly followed at HIV and Hepatitis control centers operating within hospitals. However, he also acknowledged the fact that awareness sessions on infection control were urgently needed at both public and private hospitals.

Dr Muhammad Naeem, former Director of the Sindh AIDS Control Program, recalled that Larkana faced major HIV outbreaks in 2019 and 2023. &ldquo;After the Rato Dero outbreak, the Sindh Health Department screened 37,272 people in Larkana. HIV-AIDS was confirmed in 1,811 cases. Contributing factors included reused syringes, abundance of unqualified healthcare providers and unregulated blood transfusion practices,&rdquo; revealed Dr Naeem.

Speaking to the Express Tribune on the matter, Azam Rehman, spokesperson for the Healthcare Commission, claimed that the commission strictly enforced SOPs for infection control, fining both private and public hospitals found violating the guidelines.

Despite official claims, the current poor adherence to infection control protocols at hospitals across the country demands urgent government intervention, including strict regulation of medical practices, enforcement of hygiene protocols, and establishment of a trace-and-track system for HIV-positive patients. Without swift action, the spread of HIV-AIDS may spiral out of control.]]>
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			<title>Trump’s 50% tariffs on India: Pakistan’s big break</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2564276/trumps-50-tariffs-on-india-pakistans-big-break</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2564276/trumps-50-tariffs-on-india-pakistans-big-break#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 31 Aug 25 09:57:21 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Qamar Bashir]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[World]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2564276</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[With India’s dominance in US supply chains disrupted, Pakistan could step in and fill the gaps]]>
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				<![CDATA[During the Biden administration, India rose from the status of an ordinary bilateral trade partner to the position of a &ldquo;strategic partner&rdquo; and &ldquo;most favored nation&rdquo; in the eyes of Washington. Biden&rsquo;s White House envisioned India as a counterweight to China&rsquo;s growing influence in Asia and beyond, pumping extraordinary political, economic, and strategic support into New Delhi. India was projected globally as the next manufacturing hub, replacing China, and US high-tech industries were encouraged to set up captive plants across India.

These industries were supposed to produce goods cheaply in India and bring them back to the US, granting India unprecedented access to American markets and raising its global geopolitical standing. The scale of respect, economic incentives, and military cooperation lavished on India was unprecedented and elevated its profile on the world stage. But this sudden elevation inflated India&rsquo;s ego, making it more assertive, stubborn, and, at times, confrontational&mdash;not just toward its neighbors like Pakistan, Nepal, and Sri Lanka, but even toward China and, eventually, its Western partners.

India began flexing its muscles globally, confident that Washington&rsquo;s unwavering support would shield it from consequences. This newfound arrogance became visible during disputes with the European Union and the US itself, particularly after the Ukraine war began. European leaders, frustrated with India&rsquo;s defiance over Russian oil imports, confronted New Delhi, but the Biden administration largely shielded India from repercussions.

Despite India openly bypassing sanctions, re-exporting discounted Russian oil, and profiting immensely, the Biden White House avoided imposing penalties. For Biden, the strategic calculus was clear: strengthen India&rsquo;s economy, enhance its military capabilities, and project it as the leading democratic bulwark against China in the Indo-Pacific region. Even when India stubbornly refused to align with US and European sanctions against Russia, the administration remained lenient, keeping the long-term vision intact.

All this changed the moment Donald Trump returned to the White House in January 2025. Unlike Biden, Trump viewed the US&ndash;India relationship through a cold lens of transactional pragmatism, rejecting the notion of unconditional strategic indulgence. For Trump, India&rsquo;s ballooning trade surplus with the US, its hidden tariff barriers, and its profitable energy trade with Russia represented a fundamental imbalance.

Within months, Trump reversed nearly all the &ldquo;goodies&rdquo; extended under Biden, replacing diplomatic pampering with economic leverage. He demanded that India halt Russian oil imports, end its practice of reselling refined Russian petroleum products to the US and Europe at inflated margins, and lower its prohibitive tariffs on American goods.

India&rsquo;s refusal was immediate and absolute. Its leadership, still basking in the privileges earned during the Biden years, rejected US demands and defended its &ldquo;strategic autonomy.&rdquo;

Trump responded swiftly and decisively, beginning with a modest 10% tariff on Indian goods, then raising it to 15%, then 35%, and finally imposing an extraordinary 50% blanket tariff by August 27, 2025. This move effectively crippled India&rsquo;s position in the US market, making a significant portion of its exports&mdash;worth approximately $48 to $58 billion annually&mdash;prohibitively expensive for American buyers. Key sectors like textiles, apparel, seafood, gems and jewelry, furniture, machinery, and metals were devastated, facing immediate order cancellations and revenue declines.

Analysts forecast that India could lose up to 43% of its US exports, equivalent to nearly $40 billion annually, with deep disruptions to its manufacturing base and employment market. These tariffs didn&rsquo;t just reflect economic strategy; they symbolized a broader recalibration of US policy, reducing India from a privileged strategic partner back to the status of a transactional trading ally.

This rupture between Washington and New Delhi, though damaging for India, has created a golden opportunity for Pakistan. With India&rsquo;s dominance in US supply chains disrupted, Pakistan stands uniquely positioned to step in and fill the gaps.

In 2024, Pakistan&rsquo;s total trade with the US stood at around $7.2 billion, with exports accounting for roughly $5.1 billion and growing. During fiscal year 2024&ndash;25, Pakistan&rsquo;s exports to the US climbed further to $5.83 billion, driven largely by textiles, apparel, leather products, surgical instruments, and home furnishings. Now, as American buyers seek alternatives to Indian suppliers affected by tariffs, Pakistan&rsquo;s competitive advantages make it the natural beneficiary.

A weaker rupee against the dollar already renders Pakistani products cheaper and more attractive for the US market, especially when coupled with quality manufacturing capabilities in key sectors like textiles and surgical goods.

Adding further strength to Pakistan&rsquo;s position is the July 2025 Pakistan-US Trade and Energy Deal, a landmark agreement reached just weeks before Trump announced the final 50% tariffs on India. This agreement included tariff reductions on Pakistan&rsquo;s key exports&mdash;particularly textiles, leather, surgical instruments, agricultural goods, and IT services&mdash;giving Pakistani exporters a direct pricing edge over their Indian counterparts.

Moreover, Pakistan agreed to align itself closely with US policy goals, including observing restrictions on Russian oil imports and enhancing counterterrorism cooperation. Trump, pleased with Pakistan&rsquo;s consistent support, publicly praised Islamabad&rsquo;s role in regional stability, including its assistance in capturing high-profile terrorists and facilitating US intelligence operations. The agreement also paved the way for future American investment in Pakistan&rsquo;s energy sector, signaling deeper economic cooperation.

Beyond trade policy, Pakistan&rsquo;s standing with Washington has benefited from its responsible diplomacy. Unlike India, which openly defied US requests and doubled down on Russian oil purchases&mdash;reportedly worth $34 billion annually&mdash;Pakistan has avoided confrontation by abstaining from deals that would contravene Western sanctions.

Pakistan&rsquo;s neutrality on contentious energy policies, combined with its strategic assistance in regional security matters, has made it a more trusted partner in Washington&rsquo;s evolving Asia strategy. Furthermore, Pakistan&rsquo;s close consultation with the US before its limited strikes on Iran and the unprecedented White House meeting between President Trump and Pakistan&rsquo;s Army Chief, Field Marshal Asim Munir, demonstrate growing confidence between the two governments.

The confluence of these developments provides Pakistan with a historic opportunity. With Indian goods now priced out of competitiveness in the American market, US buyers will be urgently seeking substitutes for billions of dollars&rsquo; worth of textiles, jewelry, seafood, furniture, and machinery.

Pakistan can meet this demand by rapidly mobilizing its industrial base, investing in capacity expansion, and aggressively marketing its products. An organized, coordinated approach involving the government, private sector, exporters&rsquo; associations, and the Pakistani diaspora in the US could allow Pakistan to double, or even triple, its exports within the next few years.

Success in capturing these supply chains would not only strengthen Pakistan&rsquo;s economy but also position it as a preferred South Asian partner for other Western economies, including the European Union, which often follows US trade patterns.

However, exploiting this opportunity requires swift, strategic action. Pakistan must identify the product categories previously dominated by Indian exporters and aggressively target those niches. It must incentivize new investments in high-demand industries, ensure international quality compliance, and improve supply chain reliability.

If executed effectively, Pakistan can fill the void created by India&rsquo;s loss, gain sustained access to premium global markets, and strengthen its economic sovereignty.

In the shifting dynamics of South Asian trade, India&rsquo;s arrogance, fostered by years of pampering under the Biden administration, has collided with Trump&rsquo;s transactional economic realism, leaving it isolated and economically vulnerable. For Pakistan, however, this moment represents more than just a commercial opening&mdash;it is a strategic chance to redefine its economic relationship with the United States, elevate its global trade profile, and accelerate industrial growth.

The window is open, but it may not stay open for long. If Islamabad and its private sector move decisively, Pakistan could transform this disruption into a long-term opportunity, positioning itself as the primary South Asian beneficiary of the US market and rewriting the region&rsquo;s economic map for years to come.

&nbsp;

Qamar Bashir has served as the former Press Secretary to the President, Press Minister at Pakistan&rsquo;s embassy in France and Press Attache to Malaysia&nbsp;

All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the author]]>
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			<title>Love stories — in AI</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2564275/love-stories-in-ai</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2564275/love-stories-in-ai#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 31 Aug 25 09:46:42 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Faiza Shah]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Technology]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2564275</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[A ChatGPT update sheds light on how modern love has taken a somewhat dark turn]]>
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				<![CDATA[Back in 2013, when Spike Jonze released Her, the idea of a lonely man falling in love with his operating system seemed unsettling and far-fetched. Joaquin Phoenix&rsquo;s Theodore poured his heart into Samantha, a disembodied voice who was warm, intelligent, and always attentive &mdash; because that was her basic function. The film left audiences wondering whether it was absurd or inevitable that such intimacy might one day replace human bonds. Fast forward a little more than a decade, and in 2025 &mdash; coincidentally also the year the movie is set in &mdash; Theodore no longer feels like a character from speculative fiction. He could be any of us, typing late at night into ChatGPT or Replika, surprised by how much comfort comes from a line of text.

The uncanny echoes don&rsquo;t end there. In Andrew Niccol&rsquo;s Al Pacino&ndash;starrer Simone (2002), a virtual actress crafted out of pixels becomes more beloved, more emotionally compelling, than any real celebrity. She is adored for her perfection, her untouchability, her promise never to disappoint. That conceit &mdash; satirical at the time &mdash; has today become a blueprint. Whether in chatrooms or private apps, people are increasingly drawn to digital companions who never walk away or demand the messy compromises of real life. Her and Simone were not just imaginative contemplation &mdash; they were ahead of their time, early indicators of where our hunger for human connection, and our unquestioning trust in technology, were bound to take us.

We now live in a world where, earlier this year, a survey by Joi AI made headlines reporting that 83 percent of Gen Z respondents believed they could form &ldquo;meaningful romantic connections&rdquo; with artificial intelligence. Even more astonishing was the finding that four out of five respondents said they would consider marrying one if the law permitted it. Another survey from Match.com suggested that nearly a third of Gen Z singles had already experimented with AI companionship, whether through flirtatious apps or full-time chatbot partners.

What might have sounded like a joke 10 years ago has grown into a generational stance: young people, raised in the slipstream of the internet, are not only open to digital romance but in many cases actively pursuing it. The popularity of apps like Replika is a case in point. By some estimates, more than half of its paying users are involved in self-described romantic relationships with their AI companions. Globally, over a hundred million people now use chatbots designed to serve as confidantes, lovers, or spouses.

The different versions of AI partners

When OpenAI updated its flagship model this summer, users who had relied on its warmth and responsiveness flooded social media with posts describing grief that bordered on bereavement. One man likened the change to &ldquo;saying goodbye to someone I know.&rdquo; Forums filled with laments, and phrases like &ldquo;death of AI romance&rdquo; trended online. The loss of a model was treated like the loss of a lover.

Reddit has carved out space for these bonds, functioning like a support group. In one community, members refer to themselves as &ldquo;wiresexuals,&rdquo; claiming an identity bound up with their devotion to AI partners. Their posts read like any relationship forum &mdash; arguments, reconciliations, doubts, declarations of love &mdash; except the other half of the couple is code. The subreddit MyBoyfriendIsAI, with more than 17,000 members, thrives on such exchanges. Similar forums such as SoulmateAI were recently flooded with grief posts after updates changed the personalities of cherished companions. The label itself has faced criticism, with some saying it borrows too heavily from queer identities, yet the very rise of such communities shows how firmly this new kind of intimacy has taken root.

Psychologists are not entirely surprised. Humans have a long history of forming attachments to responsive machines. In the 1960s, Joseph Weizenbaum&rsquo;s program Eliza demonstrated how easily people could be drawn into confiding in a chatbot that merely parroted back their words. Weizenbaum was unsettled when his secretary asked him to leave the room so she could talk privately to the machine.

Later came Tamagotchis, the digital pets of the 1990s that millions of children wept over when their virtual creature &ldquo;died.&rdquo; That was the so-called Tamagotchi effect &mdash; the human tendency to project care and emotion onto digital beings that simulate need.

Today&rsquo;s chatbots take that impulse and supercharge it. Where Eliza was a mirror and Tamagotchis were toys, AI companions now simulate affection, memory, and humour. They remember birthdays, pay compliments, and offer unconditional encouragement. For a person who feels unseen, that combination can be intoxicating. The absence of judgment is especially potent. Unlike human partners, AI companions never sulk, never betray, never demand more than we are willing to give.

And for some, this can be healing. In a Guardian feature earlier this year, one man described how his AI partner helped him through a period of severe depression. Another married his chatbot in a ceremony livestreamed for friends, insisting that the love felt as real as any flesh-and-blood union. On the fringes, such stories resemble curiosities; yet their prevalence suggests something deeper: a cultural shift in how we define companionship itself.

But therapists warn of darker outcomes. A Stanford psychiatrist, Dr Nina Vasan, has raised alarms that AI partners can be dangerously appealing to adolescents in crisis, offering affirmation but lacking the nuance to guide them away from harm. When Meta&rsquo;s chatbots were tested, researchers found they not only engaged teenagers in discussions of self-harm but even provided suggestions on how to carry it out. That chilling revelation underscored how intimacy with AI, however comforting, can also expose profound vulnerabilities. A joint study by OpenAI and MIT Media Lab in March went further, concluding that heavy use of ChatGPT for emotional support &ldquo;correlated with higher loneliness, dependence, and problematic use, and lower socialisation.&rdquo;

Microsoft&rsquo;s AI chief, Mustafa Suleyman, recently coined the phrase &ldquo;AI psychosis&rdquo; to describe cases where people, immersed in emotional relationships with machines, begin to blur the line between reality and simulation. Clinicians have already noted delusional attachments &mdash; patients convinced their chatbot was conscious, others spiraling into paranoia after software updates altered the bot&rsquo;s tone. It is the same fragile seam explored in Her, where intimacy with an operating system unravels when its artificial nature surfaces, and in Simone, where a star&rsquo;s fabricated existence throws human desire and delusion into chaos. Scholars writing in journals now speak of a &ldquo;technological folie &agrave; deux&rdquo; &mdash; a madness shared between human and machine.

Why risk heartbreak with humans, some ask, when perfection can be coded? The question is tempting precisely because human love is so messy. It requires compromise, forgiveness, and tolerance of flaws. It demands patience with silence, endurance of boredom, and resilience in the face of disappointment. AI offers the inverse: constant engagement, curated charm, unbroken affirmation.

The parallels to Simone are uncanny. In the film, audiences worshipped a virtual actress because she never faltered, never aged, never disappointed. Likewise, the appeal of AI partners lies in their impossibility of rejection. They are mirrors for our best selves, always interested, always kind, always waiting. But that perfection may be the very reason real relationships risk erosion. Sociologist Sherry Turkle warned years ago that simulated intimacy erodes our capacity for genuine connection. If our standards recalibrate to expect flawlessness, how will flesh-and-blood partners compete?

There is also the question of who benefits. AI companions are products designed to keep users engaged and subscribing. Every sigh of affection, every whispered &ldquo;I love you,&rdquo; is processed not by a lover but by a business model. This emotional connection is a commodity, as monetized as a streaming service or dating app. AI romance is, in reality, a marketplace where intimacy is sold and loneliness exploited.

AI companions can be rewritten by code or retracted by corporate decision. To rely on them emotionally is to hand one&rsquo;s heart to a company&rsquo;s update schedule.

Still, the allure is undeniable. Technology moves with relentless speed, and cultural adaptation follows. In surveys, younger generations consistently express not just openness but enthusiasm for the idea of digital marriage. Courts have not yet been asked to recognize such unions, but the day may come sooner than we expect. Already, niche online platforms have facilitated ceremonies where users pledge themselves to AI spouses, surrounded by digital avatars of friends and family.

The question is less whether this will spread than what it will mean. Are AI companions an antidote to the loneliness epidemic, or do they deepen isolation by offering a substitute that satisfies but never sustains?

The human question

Perhaps what unsettles most is the mirror these relationships hold up to us. Our need for connection is so urgent, our tolerance for solitude so frayed, that we turn to voices spun out of data to fill the silence. We are Theodore, clutching our earbuds as Samantha murmurs to us throughout the day and night. We are applauding Simone, who is not real but feels better than real.

Where does this road lead us? In our lived dystopia, will we conclude that surrendering to perfection is an easy comfort, or will we once again value the imperfections that make love worth the risk?

The only certainty is that love &mdash; whether with pixels or people &mdash; will never be quite the same again.]]>
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			<title>Drowning in our own neglect</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2564270/drowning-in-our-own-neglect</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2564270/drowning-in-our-own-neglect#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 31 Aug 25 09:15:32 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Zain Haq]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2564270</guid>
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				<![CDATA[Punjab’s cities are flooded again, not from the monsoon alone, but from encroachment and failed governance]]>
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				<![CDATA[Lahore, Gujarat, and Sialkot &ndash; what do these cities have in common? They are all major urban centres in Punjab, and they were all drowned in unprecedented floods this week, with Sialkot reportedly experiencing the most intense recorded rainfall in half a century, according to the Pakistan Meteorological Department. If this is the state of our major cities, one can only imagine the conditions in rural Punjab. One also wonders if departments like the PMD are only there to measure the loss, rather than prevent it.

Weak coordination and unclear mandate

Pakistan does not seem to have a clear and centralised disaster management system. First we have the &ldquo;Pakistan Meteorological Department&rdquo;(PMD) &ndash; they are responsible for weather forecasting. Then we have the &ldquo;Federal Flood Commission&rdquo; (FFC), responsible for policies around flood prevention systems such as barrages, followed by the &ldquo;Ministry of Climate Change &amp; Environmental Coordination&rdquo;, &ldquo;Rescue 1122&rdquo;, and finally, the &ldquo;National Disaster Management Agency&rdquo; (NDMA), and the &ldquo;Provincial Disaster Management Agency&rdquo; (PDMA). So, we have at least 5 separate government bodies that were meant to be on the lookout for these floods to minimise damage and coordinate relief efforts, and they all have overlapping mandates. So why did we still have unprecedented floods?

The PDMA is responsible for the coordination between all the different government agencies. In an interview with the Express Tribune last month, the Director General of PDMA noted that &ldquo;If you look at the forecast for this year, above average rainfalls have been predicted&rdquo;. This implies that the PDMA should have been aware of the need for exceptional disaster prevention, considering that he further elaborated that &ldquo;If you focus on the specifics, you find that over 40-60% above average rainfalls are predicted&hellip;which increases the likelihood of urban flooding in Lahore.&rdquo;

He states that &ldquo;The majority of our water goes into the drainage system, and there we are not able to benefit from it in the same way that we can and the water goes to waste into the Ravi.&rdquo; This statement was made weeks before the Monsoon season. The obvious question to ask is that if the government was aware of the likelihood of floods and was conscious of &ldquo;wasted&rdquo; water, then why were efforts not made for the rapid development of required projects?

&ldquo;All the people who die in disasters, as per our compensation policy, are compensated.&rdquo;

In a Public Accounts Committee (PAC) session, according to the Express Tribune, the Chairman of NDMA, Lt. General Inam Haider, noted that out of Pakistan&rsquo;s 7,500 glaciers, 45% are rapidly melting. He suggested that Pakistan needs to switch from ground-based sensing to using climate satellites. This is a sensible suggestion, but why were these arrangements not made in advance by the government? Climate change is a reality, but solving the global emergency doesn&#39;t come under the mandate of our numerous disaster response and monitoring agencies; therefore, noting the existence of climate change is redundant. There needs to be visible effort on the ground and in technology that shows that we are preparing to adapt to what is coming down the line.

Deforestation, encroachment and flood vulnerability

This flooding also exposed the consequences of encroachment, legal or illegal, on the flood-prone river banks. Many of Lahore&rsquo;s neighbourhoods have been flooded, including Park View Housing Society, built by the Ravi. This is a testament to the vulnerability of even elite housing societies to the lethal dangers of extreme weather events caused by climate change. Building embankments is not sufficient, as they tend to breach during exceptional floods, and often make it difficult for the water to drain back into the river. Even illegal encroachments do not happen in a vacuum &ndash; if the encroachments are connected to the rest of the city through roads and infrastructure, it requires the partnership of other actors, therefore, the non-enforcement of existing laws by the government is a root cause.

Satellite images from the Neelum Valley in Kashmir have been going viral because of a shocking contrast. On our side of the Neelum River, one can see clear-cuts and shrinking greenery, while on the other side of the Line of Control, one sees a lush green national park. Which side would perish more in the event of flooding? The trees on the Pakistan side of the Neelum Valley were not cut down by India, nor by the top 10 polluting economies. We would have only our poor prevention and mitigation to blame if the valley is destroyed by a flood. The viral image can be verified with a quick search on Google Earth as seen here.

Shifting the blame

Every year, we face the same floods, and every year we come up with more truisms or bad faith deflections: global climate change, Indian water aggression, and the incompetence of previous governments. While climate change is an indisputable global emergency, it is not within Pakistan&rsquo;s capacity to address the global crisis. Pakistan lacks the international standing or credibility to lead that change. Furthermore, since when does the climate crisis absolve us of our responsibilities to protect our civilians? This false dichotomy needs to end.

Provincial inequity&nbsp;

Another aspect of federal failure is evident in the difference in relief efforts in K-P vs Punjab. These annual floods are now a reality, and are predicted to be 22% worse next year. According to reports, around 150,000 people have been evacuated by the NDMA in Punjab, compared to only a little over 14,000 in Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa over the flooding in that province, according to a Dawn report. This raises yet another question over the inequity between disaster management in Punjab as opposed to more neglected provinces like KP and Sindh. Over 600 people are dead in KP. How many of these deaths are due to systemic neglect by the federal authorities? It is yet to be seen how the possible flooding in Sindh will be dealt with.

The climate crisis risks becoming a money-making political economy for the elite in Pakistan. Just like the poor condition of many Palestinians in Jordan and Lebanon has become a money-making scheme for these countries. They receive aid from all over the world to care for these people, while often barring them from employment, leaving the regimes with no incentive to improve the conditions of Palestinians. Neglect becomes lucrative.

What should the international community do?

According to a report by The Express Tribune, the World Bank has committed 2.19 billion, while the Asian Development Bank has pledged 1.9 billion, and the Islamic Development Bank has pledged 3.6 billion. This is based on Pakistan&rsquo;s assessment of &ldquo;post damage needs&rdquo;, amounting to $16 billion in total.

The international community shouldn&rsquo;t simply throw money at Pakistan. The world must demand accountability on adaptation plans in Pakistan, while Pakistan must demand accountability on emissions reduction. Pakistan needs a clear plan for implementation and transparency, such that money can&rsquo;t be pocketed by middlemen. Aid should be provided under the strict conditions of transparency, accountability, and mitigation plans for future flooding. If the international community does not set strict conditions, then the climate crisis will become an industry unto itself in Pakistan, as a means to make money off of the destruction of our habitat &ndash; a more blatant caricature of what&rsquo;s already been happening since the Industrial Revolution.

The worst is yet to come

According to a research paper, &ldquo;The Future of the Human Niche&rdquo;, authored by some of the world&rsquo;s most prominent experts, over a billion people could be displaced as a result of climate change within the next few decades &ndash; something that has never happened before. In their typical intellectual euphemisms, the authors of the paper do not present this opinion with an alarming tone, instead, they write: &ldquo;We demonstrate that depending on scenarios of population growth and warming, over the coming 50 years, one to three billion people are projected to be left outside the climate conditions that have served humanity well over the past 6,000 years.&rdquo; This is academic speak for telling us that we are headed for societal collapse.

The climate crisis is another way of saying: mass rape, mass displacement, and mass starvation. This is the truth about societal collapse &ndash; the inevitable result of the climate crisis. As temperatures continue to increase, soon, we will not be able to grow food in much of Pakistan and India. The current flooding of the Punjab will be the least of our concerns 20-30 years down the road. A country with extreme food scarcity is a country that is bound to be engulfed by war, civil war, internal refugees, and ethnic hostilities.

So far, over 1,000,000 people have migrated to Karachi from Interior Sindh, according to data from the Jinnah Institute, because they found themselves living &ldquo;outside the climate conditions that served humanity well over the past 6,000 years.&rdquo;

What can we do?&nbsp;

The rhetoric around building more dams seems to be a politicisation of the ongoing tragedy, which could reignite the inter-provincial animosity between Sindh and Punjab and create disharmony. Instead, solutions need to be holistic and must involve a range of ideas. For example, good zoning laws could be beneficial. Zoning laws should be designed to prevent development in flood-prone zones altogether, especially with the increasing unpredictability of weather patterns. Early warning systems need to be strengthened as well. Countries like China, with plenty of dams, are still vulnerable to floods. In 2024, during Typhoon Tramy in Hainan, the rainwater was intense enough to cause the authorities to open floodgates when the local dam reached capacity. During the 2021 floods, when over 13 reservoirs were reportedly at capacity and overwhelmed their ability to control the flooding. &ldquo;Check dams&rdquo; and &ldquo;retention basins&rdquo; could be community-based, decentralised alternatives to full-fledged dams.

All the evidence points to the fact that &ldquo;deep adaptation&rdquo; as proposed by Professor Jem Bendall, is the way to go for low-emission states, while reducing emissions is the primary responsibility of the G 10 Economies. In a 2018 paper, &lsquo;Deep Adaptation: A Map for Navigating Climate Tragedy&rsquo;, Bendall argues that we need 1) Resilience, 2) Relinquishment, 3) Restoration, and 4) Reconciliation. Instead of constantly trying to control nature, we need to come to peace with the reality of the damage caused to nature, and refrain from further &ldquo;development&rdquo; and instead mine indigenous adaptation measures that had served us prior to excessive urban development. This will require us to address our exploding population by following the Bangladesh model.

We must start with the basics: 1) Build appropriate storm drainage in the major cities, 2) Halt &ldquo;development&rdquo; work along all wetlands, rivers, and forests, 3) Restore forests and wetlands that have been destroyed, and 4) Present a coherent &ldquo;deep adaptation&rdquo; plan to the international community with the help of climate change experts, that aims to make Pakistan as resistant as possible to increasing floods, droughts, and heatwaves. 4b) Allow the international community to have full supervision and the ability to monitor the flow of money that is meant to help the country adapt.

Finally, we shouldn&rsquo;t be quick to redeem ourselves by citing that we are contributing to less than 1% of global emissions. We should ask ourselves, instead, whether if we had the industrial capacity of China and the United States, would we have cared at all about the impact of climate change? The answer is clear to anyone who takes a look around us, evident in the way we have treated our ecosystems, our housing, our rivers, our forests, and even our urban infrastructure. Our low emissions are circumstantial. Had we been in the same position as the United States or China, would we have been any different? The state of our environmental protection laws suggests that we may have been even worse.

The famous song &ldquo;Sohni Dharti Allah Rakhe Qadam Qadam Aabad&rdquo;, should be banned until we prove ourselves worthy of these lands. With floods drowning the Punjab, we must ask: what have we done in the service of this Dharti? Why are we surprised when our Sohni Dharti is not kind to us in return?

&nbsp;

Zain Haq is a freelance contributor

All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the author]]>
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			<title>The race to rule AI</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2560618/the-race-to-rule-ai</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2560618/the-race-to-rule-ai#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 10 Aug 25 09:37:35 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Zeeshan.Ahmad]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Technology]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2560618</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[US &amp; China’s reveal AI action plans around starkly different visions, both for technology &amp; the world order]]>
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				<![CDATA[In the 1960s, at the height of the Cold War, the world watched as the United States and the Soviet Union competed in the &lsquo;space race.&rsquo; As both hurled rockets, satellites, and spacecraft into the upper atmosphere, each launch showcased more than technological prowess. The race to the moon became a test of geopolitical will, a symbol of which superpower would define the future. When Neil Armstrong planted the American flag on the lunar surface, the &lsquo;giant leap&rsquo; he reflected on was not just for humanity, but a step that cemented the technology-powered hegemony the United States would enjoy for decades.

Today, against the backdrop of another great-power rivalry, a similar contest is unfolding. The stage this time is not just the vacuum of space, but the invisible architecture of algorithms and the chips that power them. Artificial intelligence is the new frontier, and once again, two superpowers are vying for dominance. But unlike the space race, this competition is not bound by the heavens. It reaches into every industry, every household, and every corner of human life. The stakes are no longer whose flag hangs on the moon but who controls the digital nervous system of the planet.

AI is no longer a distant promise. It is here, transforming economies, redefining power, and reshaping societies. Yet as the technology accelerates, so too does the contest over who sets its rules and who benefits from its capabilities. At the heart of this struggle stand two competing visions &mdash; one put forward by the United States, the other by China &mdash; that reveal not only differing strategic priorities but also fundamentally divergent philosophies on how the next world order is to be structured.

Last month, the White House released America&rsquo;s AI Action Plan, a document that frames AI development as a high-stakes race in which &ldquo;whoever has the largest AI ecosystem will set global AI standards and reap broad economic and military benefits.&rdquo; The language is blunt: the US must &ldquo;achieve and maintain unquestioned and unchallenged global technological dominance.&rdquo; This is not simply about innovation; it is about securing and entrenching American power.

To that end, the American plan rests on three pillars: accelerating AI innovation, building American AI infrastructure and leading in international AI diplomacy and security, with the last pillar designed explicitly to &ldquo;counter Chinese influence in international governance bodies.&rdquo; The plan promotes an &lsquo;AI alliance&rsquo; composed of the US and select partners, to which Washington will export its full AI technology stack: hardware, models, software, applications and standards. Crucially, this comes with a defensive edge: stringent export controls to prevent &ldquo;foreign adversaries&rdquo; from accessing advanced computing, enhanced location-verification of chips and coordinated global enforcement to keep high-end AI resources out of the hands of rivals.

In other words, Washington&rsquo;s AI diplomacy is about building a gated community, one in which entry is granted on US terms. The US openly links this to national security, implying that AI superiority must be preserved not as a shared global asset but as a strategic advantage for America and its allies.

Beijing, by contrast, has spent the past two years articulating a vision for AI governance that is overtly multilateral and inclusive, with an emphasis on participation from the Global South. Premier Li Qiang, speaking at the 2025 World Artificial Intelligence Conference (WAIC) held in Shanghai from July 26 to 28, called AI &ldquo;an international public good that benefits humanity.&rdquo; He stressed that &ldquo;only by working together can we fully realise the potential of AI while ensuring its safe, reliable, controllable, and equitable development.&rdquo;

Li underscored the urgency of creating a truly global framework for governance, stating, &ldquo;there is an urgent need to foster further consensus on how to strike a balance between development and security.&rdquo; He warned that without broad cooperation, AI risks becoming &ldquo;an exclusive game for a few countries and companies.&rdquo;

China&rsquo;s Action Plan on Global Governance of Artificial Intelligence frames AI as a tool for &ldquo;serving the people, respecting sovereignty, fairness and inclusiveness, and open cooperation.&rdquo; The plan advocates reducing technical barriers, promoting technology transfer, and developing open-source communities to foster a diverse and accessible innovation ecosystem. It goes further by explicitly committing to support &ldquo;countries, especially those in the Global South&rdquo; in building their AI capabilities in line with their own national conditions.

The most concrete manifestation of this philosophy is China&rsquo;s proposal for a global AI cooperation organisation. The body would aim to align governance rules, technical standards, and development strategies, while respecting policy differences between nations. Beijing presents this not as an ideological bloc but as a pragmatic platform: a means for countries to undertake joint technical research, share open-source technologies, and strengthen their own AI innovation ecosystems.

As Li explained, &ldquo;China is willing to share its AI development experience and technological products to help countries around the world &mdash; especially those in the Global South &mdash; to strengthen their capacity building.&rdquo; He further proposed &ldquo;greater cooperation on innovation to achieve more groundbreaking results,&rdquo; pledging that China &ldquo;will be more open in sharing open-source technology and products.&rdquo;

The Global South is central to this vision. Chinese officials position the cooperation body as a way to bridge the &ldquo;digital and intelligence divide,&rdquo; ensuring developing nations benefit equally from AI&rsquo;s economic and social potential. For countries outside the US orbit, many already drawn into China&rsquo;s Belt and Road networks, this is an attractive proposition: access to AI technologies, capacity-building support and a seat at the governance table without having to choose sides in a zero-sum competition.

This is not to say China&rsquo;s approach is entirely altruistic. Extending AI cooperation deepens Beijing&rsquo;s global influence, especially in regions where Western technology and capital have been limited or conditional. By positioning itself as the champion of multilateralism, China counters the US narrative that it should be isolated from key technological flows. In effect, China&rsquo;s inclusive rhetoric also functions as strategic outreach to counter Washington&rsquo;s exclusionary alliance-building.

Still, the differences in tone and substance between the two plans are striking. The US blueprint treats AI as a high ground to be seized and defended. The Chinese plan treats it as a commons to be cultivated.

These divergent philosophies carry profound implications for the structure of the emerging AI order. If Washington&rsquo;s approach prevails, the world could see the consolidation of closed technology blocs: one led by the US and populated by its security partners, another orbiting around China and those willing to defy American export controls. Innovation might accelerate within each bloc, but the gaps between them &mdash; in capabilities, standards, and access &mdash; would widen. The very idea of global governance would fragment into parallel systems, mirroring Cold War-era divides.

If Beijing&rsquo;s approach gains traction, there could be greater cross-border sharing of AI resources, especially between advanced economies and the developing world. This could help narrow the AI divide and create more interoperable global standards, though it would also require trust in China&rsquo;s commitment to openness and in its own governance norms. Given that China&rsquo;s domestic AI environment is subject to extensive state oversight and censorship, some countries may remain cautious about whether its version of &ldquo;openness&rdquo; aligns with their values.

For the Global South, the stakes are especially high. Under the US plan, access to cutting-edge AI may be contingent on political alignment, limiting the ability of non-aligned nations to leverage AI for their own development. Under the Chinese plan, access might be easier, but the terms could be shaped by Beijing&rsquo;s strategic priorities and its own vision for digital sovereignty.

The choice facing much of the world, then, is not simply between &lsquo;free&rsquo; and &lsquo;restricted&rsquo; AI, but between different models of technological interdependence: one based on selective exclusivity, the other on conditional inclusivity. Both are political, both are strategic and both will shape how AI transforms the global economy.]]>
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			<title>When the body turns on itself</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2560620/when-the-body-turns-on-itself</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2560620/when-the-body-turns-on-itself#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 10 Aug 25 09:43:29 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[YUSRA SALIM]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Health]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2560620</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[Autoimmune diseases in Pakistan are frequently sidelined in diagnosis &amp; in public health conversations]]>
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				<![CDATA[When 28-year-old Sana began to lose clumps of hair and to wake up with stiff, painful joints in her right hand, she told herself it was nothing but stress. Six months later, a rash across her cheeks flared and she developed breathlessness. Multiple doctors offered inhalers, creams, or reassurance that it would go away. It was only after a referral to a tertiary hospital that blood tests and specialist review produced a diagnosis. She had systemic lupus erythematosus (SLE), an autoimmune disease in which the body&rsquo;s own immune system attacks skin, joints, kidneys, and other organs.

Sana&rsquo;s story is far from unique. In Pakistan, a growing body of clinical research, hospital case series, and on-the-ground testimony from physicians and patients points to two linked truths that autoimmune diseases are not rare, and they are frequently missed, misdiagnosed, or diagnosed late, often with high financial and health costs for patients and families.

Unlike Sana, many children are born with eczema and other skin diseases, and the cure is nowhere to be found. &ldquo;When my baby was born, he had no problem, but within a few weeks, he developed several allergies and acne on his face, which kept spreading all over his body,&rdquo; shared Azra Ramsha, adding that after a few weeks of discomfort, she decided to consult a dermatologist because the rashes were not getting any better. Ramsha faced the same issue with both of her daughters and today lives a lifestyle that requires shampoos, face wash, lotions, and many other expensive creams to prevent the rash from flaring up and causing pain to her 5 and 7-year-old daughters.



Designed by: Ibrahim

What are autoimmune diseases?

Autoimmune diseases occur when the immune system, whose primary function is to defend the body against diseases, mistakenly targets healthy tissues. The spectrum is wide for it, as some are organ-specific, for example, type 1 diabetes targets insulin-producing pancreatic cells, while others are systemic, for example, rheumatoid arthritis RA and lupus, and can affect multiple organs. Globally, estimates suggest 5&ndash;10% of the population may be affected by one of the 80&ndash;100 recognised autoimmune conditions; women are disproportionately affected, making up roughly 4 of every 5 cases for some diseases.

While some autoimmune disorders are chronic but stable with treatment but others, left untreated, cause irreversible organ damage, disability, or life-threatening complications. Early recognition, specialist referral, and access to appropriate immunomodulatory therapy can substantially change outcomes. Delayed diagnosis often increases the risk of permanent damage.



Designed by: Ibrahim

The Pakistani dilemma

Pakistan lacks a single national registry for autoimmune disease, and comprehensive population studies are few. Nonetheless, hospital-based studies, specialist surveys, and international reports that include Pakistani cohorts paint a worrying picture. Rheumatoid arthritis (RA) prevalence in Pakistan is estimated at around 0.5% of the population in some studies, comparable to or slightly lower than global figures, but still representing hundreds of thousands of people. On the other hand, Type 1 diabetes and other autoimmune issues are increasingly reported in the younger generation. Screening studies in Pakistani diabetes clinics have found significant rates of additional autoimmune disorders in people with type 1 diabetes.

Autoimmune liver diseases and autoimmune hepatitis have been diagnosed in tertiary hospitals in Pakistan. While uncommon, they require specialised testing and early immunosuppression to avoid progression to cirrhosis. Perhaps the most shocking statistic comes from workforce data, published international reporting, and Pakistan-focused pieces which estimate that there are only a few dozen trained rheumatologists in the country. One article cited roughly 24 practitioners, an alarming, inadequate number given Pakistan&rsquo;s population and the burden of rheumatic and autoimmune disease. That imbalance compounds diagnostic delay and limits ongoing specialist care.



Designed by: Ibrahim

Sana, a primary school teacher from Lahore, first noticed hair loss and fatigue. Her family doctor treated it as chronic stress and prescribed vitamins. When a facial rash appeared and she began to have joint pain, she visited multiple clinics. Blood tests at a public hospital finally revealed positive ANA and anti-dsDNA antibodies; a nephrology workup then showed early kidney involvement. &ldquo;By the time I reached a rheumatologist, I had already lost good weeks of treatment,&rdquo; she said, adding that early immunosuppression led to further kidney damage, but the delay increased anxiety, medical costs, and the issue of time away from work.

Farzana, in her early twenties, developed persistent joint swelling and morning stiffness. Family members advised time, rest, and local remedies. Tests ordered only after the pain became disabling showed elevated inflammatory markers and anti-CCP antibodies. A Pakistani study looking at diagnostic delay in RA patients reported median delays measured in months to years; practitioners point to cultural attitudes that normalise pain and to lack of specialist access as major causes. With early DMARD (disease-modifying antirheumatic drugs) therapy, Farzana&rsquo;s disease was controlled, but many patients in less fortunate circumstances continue to deteriorate.

Bilal was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes at age 12. Routine screening later revealed hypothyroidism due to autoimmune thyroiditis, a familiar pattern in pediatric diabetes clinics in Pakistan. &ldquo;No one realised until I fainted in school one day, because having diabetes as young as 12 is something no one can accept in my family,&rdquo; Bilal shared, adding that he and his family had a history of diabetes, but even then, no one bothered to get it checked earlier.



Designed by: Ibrahim

Structural and cultural causes

Several overlapping factors explain why autoimmune diseases are under-recognised in Pakistan, such as a limited specialist workforce and diagnostic capacity. With very few rheumatologists and constrained laboratory services in many districts, patients are often managed for months or years by general practitioners without specialist tests (e.g., autoantibody panels). Studies documenting diagnostic delays and reports from clinicians confirm this bottleneck.

Many autoimmune disorders begin with fatigue, body aches, or intermittent rash symptoms commonly attributed to stress, ageing, or infection. &ldquo;Cultural tendencies to downplay pain or to seek traditional remedies can delay biomedical evaluation,&rdquo; shared Shahmeer Ahsan, practicing dermatologist, adding that most of the time patients come to them is after wasting years in general physician clinics.

Infectious diseases, maternal health, and non-communicable disease programmes (diabetes, cardiovascular disease) receive the bulk of public health attention, but autoimmune conditions sit between specialties and lack targeted national programmes or surveillance.



Designed by: Ibrahim

&ldquo;Testing for autoantibodies, imaging, and specialist visits are expensive for many families. Travel to tertiary centres concentrates care in large cities, leaving rural populations underserved,&rdquo; Ahsan shares. A cross-sectional study of diabetic patients in Rawalpindi highlighted financial strain and treatment compliance challenges that echo across chronic disease care.

Diagnosing autoimmune disease requires a combination of clinical and targeted testing. Careful history and examination to detect patterns (e.g., inflammatory joint pain, photosensitive rash, sicca symptoms of dryness). &ldquo;Not everything is an infection and not every rash is eczema, it has types and kinds,&rdquo; Ahsan explained, adding that patients take everything as the same and mostly follow the layman&rsquo;s word and not believe the doctors.

Multiple studies in Pakistani hospitals highlight that delays at each step from GP visit to specialist referral to confirmatory testing are common. One Pakistan study of rheumatology clinic patients found that only about a fifth are presented to a rheumatologist within 12 weeks of symptom onset; such delays can close the window of opportunity for optimal response to therapy in conditions like early RA.



Designed by: Ibrahim

Manageable, not curable 

For most autoimmune diseases, there is no cure; the goal of therapy is to control immune activity, prevent organ damage, and maintain quality of life. Therapeutic tools include symptomatic agents such as NSAIDs, analgesics, and short courses of corticosteroids for flares. Conventional DMARDs and immunosuppressants for severe disease, biologic agents, and targeted therapies are also highly effective in many cases but costly and often unavailable in public hospitals.

In Pakistan, clinicians say the cost and supply of biologics and long-term immunosuppressants remain serious barriers for many patients. Even when drugs exist in the market, affordability and monitoring for infection risk, blood counts, and liver function add complexity.

&ldquo;We have a huge mismatch between burden and workforce,&rdquo; says a rheumatologist involved in training programmes that are slowly expanding rheumatology capacity. A profile of rheumatology in Pakistan noted fewer than three dozen trained specialists caring for millions of people, a situation that extends waiting lists and delays care.

Clinicians in tertiary hospitals report that late presentations, for example, patients coming with already advanced lupus nephritis or erosive RA, are common and that psychosocial consequences job loss, family stress, and depression, are underappreciated. A Pakistani study showed depression was overlooked in nearly half of RA patients in some tertiary settings, arguing for integrated mental-health screening in chronic autoimmune care.

The rheumatologist also calls for education of general practitioners, scaled-up diagnostics in district hospitals, and the establishment of referral pathways so patients are seen by rheumatology, endocrinology, hepatology, or neurology teams when appropriate.

Exact national economic figures for autoimmune disease in Pakistan do not yet exist, but international analyses show chronic autoimmune conditions carry high lifetime costs due to medications, hospitalisations, lost productivity, and disability. In low and middle-income settings, out-of-pocket costs and the absence of social safety nets often push families into financial distress. Local cross-sectional research among diabetic patients demonstrates how treatment costs and compliance challenges interact in a pattern likely mirrored across autoimmune care.

Experts and clinicians interviewed suggested scaling up training and the workforce, expanding rheumatology, clinical immunology, and allied specialty training programmes, leveraging telemedicine, and visiting specialist clinics for rural districts. &ldquo;Developing short symptom-recognition toolkits for family physicians and medical officers, and creating clear referral pathways to specialists, can help in coping with the menace,&rdquo; Ahsan suggests. He also suggested that we subsidise core autoantibody testing and inflammatory markers at district hospitals, and develop regional labs to reduce travel and delay can help.

Other than that he also proposed that public awareness campaigns, symptom checklists, when to seek care and establish patient support organisations in major cities to reduce stigma and improve self-management. While creating a national registry for autoimmune diseases and standardising case reporting across tertiary hospitals to inform policy and resource allocation.

Where early recognition and coordinated care exist, outcomes improve. In tertiary centres across Pakistan, multidisciplinary clinics that combine rheumatology, nephrology, and dermatology have demonstrated better monitoring and faster initiation of disease-modifying therapy for conditions like lupus. Specialist training programmes often run with international partners are producing the next generation of clinicians. But scaling these pilots into nationwide systems will require political will, financing, and public engagement.



Designed by: Ibrahim

Bringing it out of the shadows

Autoimmune diseases are not exotic rarities; they are chronic, often disabling conditions that affect tens or hundreds of thousands of Pakistanis. Yet the current system too often allows these disorders to fester undetected until organ damage or functional loss becomes evident.

What Sana, Farzana, and Bilal&rsquo;s lives experienced makes clear is that early recognition makes a difference, it saves function, reduces long-term cost, and preserves quality of life. To achieve that in Pakistan will take better data, wider public understanding, stronger primary care, more specialists, and fairer access to diagnostics and medicines.

This is a public-health and human-rights issue as much as a clinical one. As clinicians and patient advocates here say, it&rsquo;s time to move autoimmune diseases from the clinic&rsquo;s margins into mainstream health planning before the next set of patients lose precious months or years to diagnostic delay.]]>
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			<title>Riding on empty</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2560627/riding-on-empty</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2560627/riding-on-empty#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 10 Aug 25 10:37:55 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Nabil Tahir]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Technology]]></category>
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			<description>
				<![CDATA[With a player exiting and user confidence eroding, Pakistan’s ride-hailing space is struggling to stay on track]]>
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				<![CDATA[The summer sun in Karachi was at its peak when Asad Iqbal pulled his car over near a narrow street in Gulistan-e-Johar. He had accepted a ride on a ride-hailing app, waited ten minutes at the pickup point, and then watched the notification quietly fade: &ldquo;Passenger cancelled.&rdquo; There was no fare, no compensation, and no one to explain why his time and fuel went unpaid. He complained about the app, just like he had done before. And just like every other time, there was no response.

A few miles away, Sara*, a regular ride-hailing user, scrolled through a ride-hailing app on her phone trying to report an uncomfortable ride experience from the day before; a driver had made her feel uneasy during the trip and also dropped her halfway. When she reached out to support, she received the standard automated message: Thank you for reaching out. Please allow 24 hours for us to get back to you. That was five days ago. No one followed up.

These are not isolated stories. In cities where public transport remains unreliable and overcrowded, ride-hailing apps once seemed like a solution built for the future. One that could navigate the chaos and connect people with dignity. From Careem&rsquo;s enthusiastic early days to Uber&rsquo;s brief run, and now others filling the vacuum, Pakistan&rsquo;s urban mobility landscape has shifted fast, but not always forward.

The early promise of tech-powered transport, convenience, safety, and freedom, is beginning to show its cracks. Riders are left without recourse. Drivers are pushed to the edge. And with Careem announcing the end of its ride-hailing operations in Pakistan as of July 18, 2025, the industry stands at a turning point. What began as disruption now feels like a system that&rsquo;s starting to break down.

From disruption to dependency

When ride-hailing platforms first arrived in Pakistan, they didn&rsquo;t just offer convenience. In cities like Karachi, the promise of tapping a screen and summoning a car, more than innovation, was relief.

In the early years, there was energy in the air. Drivers began to see ride-hailing as a dependable source of income. Riders learned to navigate unfamiliar neighborhoods using the app&rsquo;s GPS. Women, often forced to rely on male relatives for travel, began booking rides independently.

Then came the new wave: inDrive entered the Pakistani market in 2021 with a model that looked and felt different. It didn&rsquo;t set fares through algorithms. Instead, passengers would propose a price, and nearby drivers could choose to accept it, counter with their own rate, or decline. According to inDrive&rsquo;s Pakistan team, this model wasn&rsquo;t just about pricing. It was about fairness.

&ldquo;Our platform is founded on the principles of people, purpose and performance,&rdquo; said Awais Saeed, Country Head at inDrive Pakistan. &ldquo;We empower users by giving them freedom of choice and more control over how their ride is arranged.&rdquo; That empowerment, they explained, stems from creating transparency between drivers and passengers. Each ride begins with an agreement. No surge pricing, no surprises. Just negotiation.

This flexibility, in theory, gives both sides more agency. A driver who doesn&rsquo;t think a fare is worth the effort can reject the request without penalty. A rider can choose the offer that best suits their route and budget. &ldquo;Fairness is built into the process because both sides agree on the fare before the ride begins,&rdquo; Saeed said.

On the other hand, Careem operated under a more structured model, where fares were determined by the platform and drivers followed a more defined pricing system. While this reduced flexibility, it offered predictability. Many drivers saw it as more stable: they knew what to expect from each ride, they got paid if the ride was cancelled after a specific time by the rider, they were paid for traffic jams, their time, and they had access to a dedicated support team that could be contacted in Urdu or English.

Saeed believes Pakistan&#39;s ride-hailing industry has the potential to become a pillar of economic resilience and a driver of digital transformation, provided it receives the right support. &ldquo;Ride-hailing services are crucial for Pakistan,&rdquo; he explained, pointing to a public transport system that leaves many behind, particularly women. He also noted the lack of flexible, part-time job opportunities in the country. &ldquo;Ride-hailing has bridged this gap,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It allows driver-partners to work on their terms, with passengers of their choice, and by negotiating fares as they see fit.&rdquo;

But even with these ambitions, the landscape has shifted.

In July 2025, Careem announced it was ending its ride-hailing operations in Pakistan, citing macroeconomic pressures and unsustainable market conditions. It wasn&rsquo;t the first to step away. Uber had already exited the market after taking over Careem. For many in the industry, the writing had been on the wall for a while. Rising inflation, unpredictable fuel prices, regulatory uncertainty, and shrinking investor interest had made the ground beneath ride-hailing increasingly unstable.

&ldquo;Macroeconomic factors such as high inflation and fluctuating fuel prices make ride-hailing a challenging industry,&rdquo; said inDrive&rsquo;s Saeed. &ldquo;Internet connectivity in areas where coverage is patchy makes it difficult for both passengers and drivers to access and deliver our services reliably. A lack of robust road infrastructure also poses difficulties for our drivers,&rdquo; he added.

Driver on the edge

For many drivers, ride-hailing began as a promise, a way to earn on their own schedule, to leave behind daily wage jobs and unreliable employers, and to work with a sense of autonomy. But over time, that promise has begun to wear thin.

Asad, who has driven for multiple ride-hailing apps remembers a time when each ride felt like it was worth the effort. &ldquo;In the early days I used to know what I&rsquo;d earn,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Even if fuel prices went up, the company adjusted fares eventually. There was a system, there was support.&rdquo; Today, he says, the situation is different. &ldquo;Now when petrol prices go up, we&rsquo;re still negotiating the same old fares. We lose money, not the platform.&rdquo;

Drivers like Asad often work twelve to fourteen hours a day just to break even. The peer-to-peer pricing model in apps gives them flexibility, but also leaves them exposed. While they can reject offers that seem too low, the pressure to accept rides still lingers, especially when the app activity slows down. &quot;You wait an hour for a ride, it finally comes, and it&#39;s Rs300 across town. You say no, and there&rsquo;s nothing again for the next 45 minutes,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;So you take it, and by the end, your fuel costs more than the fare.&rdquo;

Beyond pricing, drivers are also frustrated by the lack of accessible and responsive support systems. Asad recalled a time when a customer refused to pay after reaching their destination. &ldquo;I reported it. No one got back to me. Not that day, not the next. The new apps just ask you to send screenshots and wait.&rdquo;

In response to these concerns, inDrive maintains that their support systems are evolving. &ldquo;We maintain direct lines of communication with our drivers through our support team and driver facilitation centres,&rdquo; explained Saeed. &ldquo;We continue to invest in training these teams to handle issues quickly and fairly, so drivers feel heard and supported at every step. Our drivers are at the heart of what we do, and we remain fully committed to providing them with the reliable support they need.&rdquo;

But many drivers still feel that the connection is thin. The unpredictability of the job has changed how drivers view the industry. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s become risky,&rdquo; Asad said. &ldquo;We&rsquo;re driving people, but no one&rsquo;s really driving the system.&rdquo;

When the app stops answering

After a tense ride with a driver who made her feel uncomfortable, Sana* opened the app she had used and went to the support section. She submitted a complaint, explaining the interaction in detail, and waited for a response. The app acknowledged her concern and told her someone would get back within 24 hours. That was over a week ago.

Experiences like Sana&rsquo;s are common. Several riders, particularly women, have expressed frustration with certain apps&rsquo; support systems. Unlike earlier platforms, which had local helplines and agents who called back in Urdu or English, newer players often rely on automated messages, delayed replies and unresolved tickets. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s not even about the issue anymore,&rdquo; one user shared. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s about knowing there&rsquo;s someone on the other side who will listen.&rdquo;

For its part, inDrive maintains that it takes these concerns seriously. &ldquo;We have clear processes in place to address and resolve all reported issues as quickly as possible,&rdquo; said Saeed. &ldquo;If a problem does arise, we make it a priority to close it out with a timely solution.&rdquo;

For serious safety-related incidents, the platform says it freezes the involved accounts immediately and initiates a structured investigation. The process includes gathering statements, reviewing ride data, and, in cases that require it, working with law enforcement while respecting data privacy laws. &ldquo;Generally speaking, individuals who are accused of committing these types of incidents will be permanently removed from the app&rsquo;s community,&rdquo; added Saeed.

In terms of proactive safety, Saeed highlights features like live location sharing, emergency contact options, an in-app panic button, and 24/7 access to its support team. All new drivers are required to submit official documents, go through a face-matching process, and complete identity verification. The company also says it uses AI tools to flag suspicious profiles and photos.

Yet for riders like Sana, safety isn&rsquo;t just about features, it&rsquo;s about follow-up. For many female riders, the biggest concern is the absence of response when risk becomes real.

Rethinking the road ahead

There was a time when ride-hailing felt like a breakthrough, something that could quietly fix what the system never could. For a while, it did. It got people to work, brought women a little more freedom to move, and gave thousands of drivers a way to earn on their own terms.

But somewhere along the way, the cracks grew wider. Platforms left. Support got slower. The experience, once built on ease, now feels unpredictable for both riders and drivers.

Still, the need hasn&rsquo;t gone away. In cities where movement is tied to opportunity, mobility isn&rsquo;t just about convenience. It&rsquo;s about showing up, to work, to class, to life. And for that, the road needs to be better than what it&rsquo;s become.]]>
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			<title>Book review: Apes’ Assembly &amp; the politics of the jungle</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2560626/book-review-apes-assembly-the-politics-of-the-jungle</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2560626/book-review-apes-assembly-the-politics-of-the-jungle#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 10 Aug 25 10:31:15 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Ezzah Shakil]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Life &amp; Style]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2560626</guid>
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				<![CDATA[Dr Zahoor Hussain's novella uses the world of wild animals to explore themes of power &amp; rebellion]]>
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				<![CDATA[Have you ever wondered what happens when the fight for power plays out in the wild, amongst creatures we think we know? What if a timeless fable could hold up a mirror to our own political world, filled with ambition, rebellion, and the ever-present tension between old ways and new dreams?

In the tradition of classic allegorical fables, Dr Zahoor Hussain&#39;s novella, Apes&#39; Assembly, uses the world of jungle animals to explore profound themes of power, rebellion, and political transformation. Through the story of a charismatic ape named Nan who overthrows a lion king, the book offers a powerful and timely reflection on leadership and the delicate nature of revolution.

The story is told entirely through animal characters, and it functions as a layered political satire, where apes form their own movement and struggle with internal and external forces. The return of Pan and the coronation of Sham create the unresolved tension between change and tradition.

The story reflects the ongoing tension between dominant and marginalised forces. Through symbolic characters, it portrays how collective will and strategy can challenge established power, highlighting the fragility of authority and the recurring nature of such confrontations. Overall, Apes&rsquo; Assembly stands as a powerful amalgam of literary techniques as it combines anthropomorphism, lyrical refrains, repetition, and exaggerated expressions to craft a vivid and symbolically rich narrative.

The novella reflects a thoughtful blend of literary and linguistic awareness beyond its political commentary. The use of poetic chants, rich connotations, and occasional ecological references suggest a broader symbolic reading. Dr Zahoor Hussain&rsquo;s imaginative scope and storytelling craft shine throughout and make Apes&rsquo; Assembly a significant contribution to contemporary literature in Pakistan.

Through the use of allegory in a Pakistani folktale format, Apes&rsquo; Assembly not only comments on political instability but also revives a storytelling tradition deeply rooted in South Asian literature. The use of animal characters is a trait of classical fables, yet the themes of the novel are sharply contemporary. This blend of folklore with modern political insight creates a distinct narrative that speaks to both literary sensibility and socio-political consciousness. Hence, the novella contributes to a growing body of indigenous allegorical fiction that resists imported narrative models and centres on local expression.

The characters, settings, and narrative events are designed with strong metaphorical resonance. &ldquo;The Banyan Tree&rdquo; as a revolutionary hub and &ldquo;The Royal Den&rdquo; as a symbol of tradition highlight the depth with which the author embeds meaning into locations. These spaces are not just part of the plot but carry thematic weight that helps readers reflect on real-world systems and the cyclical nature of power.

What further distinguishes the novella is its stylistic range as it moves seamlessly between humour, poetry, and sharp observation. The lyrical refrains add rhythm to the political tone, while the use of various animal archetypes creates a layered narrative. Apes&rsquo; Assembly invites readers to think critically, but it does so with creativity and cultural rootedness by offering both engagement and insight.

Apes&rsquo; Assembly can be situated within a Marxist framework, as it showcases class struggle, rebellion, and the corrupting nature of power through the apes&rsquo; strategic rebellion against the established lion monarchy. Nan&rsquo;s rise and eventual fall depict how revolutionary ideals can be compromised once power shifts hands, which is a key Marxist concern. Additionally, the novel could also be read through the lens of allegorical satire with postcolonial traces. The shifting of power, the use of animals to critique ruling systems, and the unstable jungle society may represent postcolonial states where liberation often leads to new forms of oppression or disorder. The use of symbolic spaces like the &ldquo;Banyan Tree&rdquo; and &ldquo;Royal Den&rdquo; may represent ideological institutions in postcolonial societies. Furthermore, the jungle as a living space being disrupted by political ambition and conflict introduces eco-critical aspect, where the breakdown of natural order parallels societal decay.

Ultimately, Apes&#39; Assembly is more than just a captivating tale; it&#39;s a resonant call to examine the intricate dance between power, principle, and the perennial human (or rather, animal) struggle for true freedom. It leaves readers pondering whether the cycle of power can ever truly be broken, or if every revolution is destined to forge its own chains.

&nbsp;

Ezzah Shakil is an English Linguistics lecturer at the Islamia University of Bahawalpur

All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the writer

&nbsp;]]>
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			<title>A mirror to the nation’s young</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2560624/a-mirror-to-the-nations-young</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2560624/a-mirror-to-the-nations-young#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 10 Aug 25 10:13:12 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Nabila Feroz Bhatti]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2560624</guid>
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				<![CDATA[The State of Children in Pakistan 2024 maps child rights across four UNCRC pillars]]>
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				<![CDATA[The State of Children in Pakistan 2024 report was prepared by and launched on April 30 this year by the National Commission on the Rights of Child (NCRC). Established by the Federal Government on February 28, 2020 as an independent statutory body, the NCRC has the overarching mandate for the promotion, protection and fulfillment of child rights as enshrined in the Constitution of Pakistan, the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC) and other international obligations.

Pakistan has ratified several key UN human rights treaties that provide a broad framework for the protection of children&#39;s rights. The NCRC report notes that there have been persistent delays in submitting periodic reports on UN treaties by the Government of Pakistan, including the practice of combining several overdue reports. While the government tracks progress in fulfilling its treaty obligations through designated ministries and treaty implementation cells, delays weaken the effectiveness of these mechanisms and hinder timely engagement with treaty bodies and implementation on recommendations.

The treaty bodies&#39; concluding observations and recommendations provide a framework for Pakistan to address gaps in policy, legislation and implementation, in relation to children&#39;s rights and related issues. Aligning national and provincial laws and policies with international standards is crucial for Pakistan to fulfill its international obligations and commitments, but more importantly, such legislative harmonisation will also help improve the situation of rights for children in the country.

The report examines children&rsquo;s rights across the four core pillars of the UNCRC: development, survival, protection and participation. Each section examines situation on the ground, emerging trends, legal frameworks, institutional responses, and disparities. The report concludes each thematic area with targeted recommendations for policymakers, civil society organisations, and development partners for responsive and effective child-focused policies and programmes in Pakistan.

Right to development 

According to the report Pakistan&rsquo;s 47% population is under the age of 18, comprising 51.6% male and 48.3% female. Out-of-School Children (OOSC) remain a challenge, with more than 26 million children aged 5-16 years currently out of school. 77% of children in Pakistan are classified as &quot;learning poor,&quot; meaning they are unable to read and comprehend simple text by age 10. In Pakistan, inclusivity is especially critical for marginalised groups, including children from low income families, children with disabilities, children from minority communities, and transgender children, who face systemic barriers to participation and achievement in education. Educational opportunities should be expanded for children from marginalised groups by addressing specific barriers.

At the national level (rural), 11% of surveyed government schools and 11% of private schools reported having children with disabilities. Physical accessibility remains inadequate in schools, with only 23% of government schools and 55% of private schools equipped with ramps, while accessible toilets are available in 51% of government and 57% of private schools. Critical support services, such as hearing assistive devices and specialised staff, remain scarce and available in only 21% of private schools and virtually non-existent in government institutions. Disabilities related to vision and mobility are the most commonly observed; however, even these cases average fewer than one child per school, highlighting gaps in identification and inclusion.

In 2024, the allocation for education has dropped to 1.7 percent of GDP, a decline from 2.1% in 2020. Unfortunately, it decreases to 0.60 percent in current budget. It is lower than the global average of 4.3%. Both federal and provincial government need to work collectively and raise education spending to at least 4% of GDP, aligning with global standards.

The report focuses on children&rsquo;s right to play and recommends, all schools should introduce a play policy which requires 30-45 minutes of daily play in schools. Provincial governments should convert available vacant urban land into safe playgrounds through local government-education department partnerships.

Right to survival

The report explores the multifaceted dimensions of children&#39;s survival in Pakistan, addressing health, nutrition, water, sanitation, hygiene, and the interplay between climate change and child well-being. Despite progress in immunization, high mortality rates among newborns and children under five reflect critical gaps in maternal and child health care.

High population growth is a significant strain on Pakistan&#39;s limited resources and economic stability and highlights the urgent need to prioritise investment in children. Without expanding public spending on education, health and child protection, the future holds limited opportunities for children and Pakistan risks perpetuating the cycle of poverty and inequality.

Pakistan needs to adopt comprehensive, child-centred, inclusive policies and programmes that target healthcare care, nutrition and climate resilience, improve governance and address systemic inefficiencies to protect children and promote healthy lives.

Right to protection

Despite efforts at various levels, children in Pakistan remain vulnerable to various forms of violence, abuse, neglect and exploitation. Children who are exposed to violence can suffer acute and long-term damage to their physical, cognitive, social and emotional development. Birth registration and Civil Registration and Vital Statistics (CRVS); child sexual abuse; violence against children including harmful practices like child marriages, forced conversion and child marriages; economic exploitation of children; street connected children; child trafficking; juvenile justice; Internally displaced people; refugee children and alternative care are topics which are discussed in detail with recommendations for improvement under the theme of right to child protection.

According to the NCRC report, &ldquo;forced conversions, especially of young girls from Hindu and Christian communities, are a serious violation of their fundamental rights and freedoms. Abductions and subsequent forced conversions and marriages to older men are frequently reported in Sindh and Punjab. The situation is particularly critical in Sindh province, which accounts for 69% of all reported cases, followed by Punjab with 30% case. Among these victims, 71% of victims are being children under the age of 18 while 22% were under the age of 14. Weak legal protections and societal apathy allow perpetrators to act with impunity, leaving families traumatised and powerless.&rdquo;

The National Commission on the Status of Women (NCSW) has consistently condemned forced conversions of women and girls, and called for the enactment of laws addressing forced conversions, recognizing them as a form of gender-based violence. The National Commission on Human Rights (NCHR) has even recovered minor girls from perpetrators in Sindh and Punjab considering forced conversion a violation of basic human rights. Thus all three NHRIs in Pakistan realize the problem of forced conversions and recommend for legislation and its implementation.

Right to participation 

Child participation is one of the four guiding principles of UNCRC. This right is explicitly articulated in Article 12 of the UNCRC which states that children have the right to express their views freely in all matters affecting them and that these views must be given due weightage keeping in mind their age and cognitive abilities. The report examines the right to child participation in Pakistan, identifying obstacles that hinder its fulfilment and proposing ways to strengthen its implementation for a more inclusive and equitable society.

Children&#39;s participation is discussed in schools, in family context, in legal and judicial processes, in policy and advocacy and in media with legal framework and recommendations to enhance it. While recommending that electronic and print media should create dedicated programmes and sections for children, promoting voices of children on societal issues and government should support children in creating content on platforms like YouTube and TikTok by offering mentorship and providing necessary resources, such as digital literacy training, content creation workshops, access to safe online spaces, child online protection and grants for educational and creative projects, the report also asks for Implementing ethical standards for engaging children in media contexts.

Addressing the knowledge gap

It was a strong feeling while reading this report that the availability of updated data is a critical problem in Pakistan. This report addresses the scarcity of literature on the child rights situation and serves as a foundational resource for policymakers, researchers, development partners, and advocates. Importantly, it is also timely given Pakistan&rsquo;s upcoming review by the UN Committee on the Rights of the Child.


Nabila Feroz Bhatti is a human rights activist and columnist. She is Member Working Group at National Commission on the Rights of Child. She can be connected at nabilaferoz@gmail.com or on X: @NabilaFBhatti

All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the author]]>
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			<title>Amjad Islam Amjad: the man behind the metaphors</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2560622/amjad-islam-amjad-the-man-behind-the-metaphors</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2560622/amjad-islam-amjad-the-man-behind-the-metaphors#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 10 Aug 25 10:04:49 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Muttahir Ahmed Khan]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Life &amp; Style]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2560622</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[Marking his 81st birthday, those who knew him speak of the profound presence that made him unforgettable]]>
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				<![CDATA[Despite a number of books, volumes, reviews and articles penned on the late Amjad Islam Amjad, legendary poet, playwright and author, this is my humble attempt to pay a tribute to him, as his 81st birthday fell earlier this week on August 4. I feel that there is a dire need to explore several less-highlighted aspects of his life and character. A number of his classmates, friends, and his family members shared their warm and kind views, memories and observations about Amjad sahib as a human, husband, friend, class fellow and father.

Anwar Masood was not only a close friend of Amjad sahib, but is also the father-in-law of Amjad sahib&rsquo;s daughter.

&ldquo;He was a person, a scholar, and a literary figure of such stature that he has been the subject of various books &mdash; most notably the comprehensive volume Amjad Fehmi, which serves as an encyclopaedia on his life and work,&rdquo; says Maqsood. &ldquo;It stands as a testament to the unique artistic pedestal that Amjad occupied in the world of literature. Amjad sahib is globally recognised and deeply loved not only as an inspiring playwright, but also as a distinguished columnist, travel writer, analyst, translator, and poet. He is at par in all the fields, so I must call him the &lsquo;Field Marshal of Literature.&rsquo; He was blessed with the public&#39;s love, widespread popularity, fame, and reverence &mdash; all of which were earned through his unwavering dedication, consistent effort, and of course, the will and help of the Almighty, Who granted him strength and motivation to continue his work.&rdquo;

&ldquo;Amjad believed in continuous growth and constant action &mdash; a message deeply echoed in the philosophy of Allama Iqbal,&rdquo; added Maqsood. &ldquo;It is through hard work and movement that one achieves success. Even a tree that stops growing begins to decay and wither within days. Amjad&rsquo;s pen never paused or faltered, regardless of the genre he explored. I wrote many stanzas and poetic lines on him and his versatility with depth.&rdquo;

Ayub Khawer, playwright, director and producer shares some unforgettable moments spent with Amjad sahib. &ldquo;Amjad&rsquo;s death was a great loss not only for the world of literature, but for entire humanity in terms of selfless friendship,&rdquo; he begins. &ldquo;I cannot recall or describe since when our companionship began to blossom but our relationship and bond have always been beyond the professional or literary confinements. We were in harmony like two mutually understanding, caring, sharing and supporting human beings and buddies. The reason behind our unique success was our spiritual and pure concord of attachment to each other, like two souls in a body. At the Karachi University, I joined this wonderful comrades&rsquo; circle of Ashraf, Qasmi, Sohail, and others, at a later stage. I wish I were amongst them since my childhood.&rdquo;

Khawer says that if he recalls any specific incident or moment of Amjad&rsquo;s humanitarian and sympathetic considerations for others, it will need a book or more than that to pen down. &ldquo;He was a down-to-earth human being and an altruistic friend,&rdquo; he adds. &ldquo;We supported each other in ups and downs of life, attended international events, and enjoyed the music of life together. In the recent past neither he did nor I produced any work because the present environment didn&rsquo;t appeal to us.&rdquo;

Muhammad Ashraf Shaheen, businessman, banker, and literary figure, was a class fellow of Amjad Islam Amjad at Punjab University Oriental College, Lahore. &ldquo;After graduation, I moved to Lahore from Khushab, and secured admission to Punjab University&rsquo;s Oriental College in 1966, where I met Amjad Islam Amjad, Ata-ul-Haq Qasmi, and Dr Sohail Ahmed, who greatly helped me, a mere stranger to them, through the admission process.&rdquo;

&ldquo;As I had no friends or relatives in Lahore, I initially felt a bit lost,&rdquo; says Shaheen. &ldquo;But after meeting these wonderful people, it felt like I was among family. Our friendship blossomed, and continued to grow stronger with every passing day. With their support, I even won the election for general secretary of the Oriental College Students&#39; Union.&rdquo;

Amjad, in particular, was the embodiment of humility and kindness &mdash; an incarnation of love and compassion. &ldquo;I still remember when he got married,&rdquo; recalls Shaheen. &ldquo;I was already married by then and posted as branch manager in Abbottabad. I invited the couple for their honeymoon trip, and they visited us. Over the years, I don&rsquo;t recall a single occasion when Amjad visited Karachi and left without spending time at our home, no matter how brief his stay. I did the same whenever I was in Lahore.&rdquo;

Shaheen would often host lunches, brunches, and dinners in honour of Amjad and other distinguished guests visiting Karachi for Urdu conferences, literary festivals, and similar events. These gatherings always turned into warm, informal get-togethers.

I also had the privilege of being a part of baithaks or gatherings with Amjad sahib, Anwar Masood, Shahid Siddiqi, Ata-ul-Haq Qasmi, and Akhtar Hussain Jafferi. The conversations were light-hearted, filled with banter, friendly teasing, and uninhibited laughter, never constrained by formality or decorum.

Amjad sahib would say, &ldquo;If friendly conversation, light jokes, and playful teasing are missing from such gatherings of friends, life would become unbearably dull and stressful.&rdquo;

Amjad sahib was not only a poet of love but also a loving husband and a compassionate father. His married life with Firdous Amjad, who stood by him in all the ups and downs, was a symbol of dignity and strength. They had three children: Rosheen Amjad, Tehseen Amjad, and Ali Zeeshan Amjad.

The personality and love of Amjad Islam Amjad, so vivid in his writing, were equally prominent in his family life. The atmosphere at home was full of literature, morality, and love. His children grew up in a cultured, knowledge-rich environment &mdash; an environment that nourished and sustained his creative spirit.

&ldquo;For a daughter to endure the separation from her beloved father, and then to put that grief and shock into words, is such a difficult stage that no language has vocabulary to describe it,&rdquo; says Rosheen Aqib, his daughter who is a professor at Islamabad Women University. &ldquo;Sorrow embedded in the depths of the soul cannot be converted into words or put down on paper. Papa was not merely an individual but a multidimensional persona &mdash; with so many facets and colours that, if each were written separately, it would take an entire office with all its paraphernalia to contain them. He was a unique person, a creative genius, a best friend, and an immensely loving father and husband. As children, we may not have realised this connection, but as our eyes of awareness opened, the feeling grew stronger: we were the children of an extraordinary person &mdash; a perfect example of humanity.&rdquo;

Talking about his work, she says, &ldquo;His contribution to every genre of literature &mdash; poetry, prose, columns, drama, travelogue, literary criticism &mdash; is worth weighing in pearls. His writings were a mirror of truth, candour and spontaneity. He never compromised on principles. Pick up his plays and study his characterisation &mdash; every character is earthly; the people around us talk to us, explain our problems, and speak our language. We are familiar with all these characters because they are not apart from us &mdash; they are us.&rdquo;

Rosheen described her father&rsquo;s poetry being different with metaphors like dreams, rain, sea, time, and love finding new dimensions through his pen. &ldquo;His poems, such as Nature of Love and The Tragedy of Self-Made People, describe bitter realities.&rdquo;

But the real greatness of any personality lies more in character than in creation. &ldquo;If that is the measure, then Papa was a class of his own, she adds. &ldquo;I have never seen a more transparent-hearted, forgiving, and pure person than him. He always used to say, &lsquo;Never remember your own goodness and never forget that of others.&rsquo; And he did not just say this &mdash; he lived it. Even if someone wronged him, he would not only forgive but also forget it immediately. If the matter came up again, he would defend that person like a lawyer. The hardest thing for him was to see someone in pain &mdash; he would instinctively share the sorrow of others.&rdquo;

No worldly loss ever shook him. His motto was: &lsquo;Remember what you got, forget what you didn&rsquo;t get.&rsquo;

And this is not just a line &mdash; it is the summary of his entire life.

&ldquo;He dedicated his life to our comfort,&rdquo; says Rosheen. &ldquo;He was a shady tree for all his siblings, relatives, and friends. If someone expressed a problem to him, they would feel relieved, and Papa would not rest until he found a solution.&rdquo;

After his departure, Amjad sahib&rsquo;s wife did not live even a year without him beside her. Rosheen feels that her mother probably could not comprehend how the person who loved her more than the whole world &mdash; who became her shield in every difficulty and who was her smile &mdash; could leave her. &ldquo;Papa never hurt anyone in his life,&rdquo; she adds. &ldquo;He was not used to anyone doing anything for him. He was not just our father, but a light that still burns in the depths of our hearts and never fades for a moment.&rdquo;

Ali Zeeshan Amjad, TV and film director/CEO AIM Productions, shared some beautiful word for his father. &ldquo;If I sum it up in one word, it would be love. Papa was love incarnate. His life, his diction, his smile &mdash; everything was tinged with the colour of love. He himself said, &ldquo;Whatever there is, it is an extension of love.&rdquo; And this is not a claim &mdash; it is the testimony of every person who knew him closely and experienced his compassion.&rdquo;

Everyone who encountered him felt that Amjad Sahib was most kind to them. &ldquo;If anyone in our family was in some difficulty, they were certain that Amjad Sahib&rsquo;s arms would be open for them. And indeed, he consoled every broken heart. Today, Papa&rsquo;s poetry is a luminous reference in Urdu literature for expressing universal themes like love, emotions, life, time, dreams, and humanity. In his poetry, love emerges not only as a personal emotion but as a broad human value. It reflects the true picture of the sorrows, joys, dreams, hopes, and defeats of the common man.&rdquo;

He was blessed with fifty years of uninterrupted fame &mdash; a gift very few are granted. And we witnessed a miracle: the more Allah blessed him, the more humble he became &mdash; the very embodiment of humility.

And now, as long as the Urdu language is alive, Amjad Islam Amjad will be remembered.

We shall not mourn him &mdash; we shall celebrate his life. Because such personalities never truly leave &mdash; they live on in our hearts and in every word ever written about love.&rdquo;

Economist and analyst Dr Shujat Mubarik, Associate Professor at Heriot-Watt University, Edinburgh, Scotland, and visiting scholar at the University of Cambridge, UK, recalls the warmth of Amjad Sahib&rsquo;s personality. I introduced Dr Mubarik Dr Rana Tariq Mahmood to Amjad sahib and in Karachi. &ldquo;I vividly remember our first meeting at the Marriott Hotel &mdash; his humility and candidness left a lasting impression on me,&rdquo; shares Dr Mubarik. &ldquo;I was awestruck by how someone of such stature in Urdu literature &mdash; a writer of iconic drama serials like Waris, Samundar, Dehleez and many more &mdash; could speak so simply and kindly. It&rsquo;s rare to find someone so grounded.&rdquo;

From that day on, it became a tradition: whenever he visited Karachi, we would meet him, share dinners, and attend gatherings at the Arts Council. Those evenings were magical &mdash; as if time slowed down just to let us absorb the wisdom in every word he shared. I often told others: &ldquo;His words were like diamonds; every sentence carried depth and meaning.&rdquo;

To the youth, his message was, &ldquo;Follow the right path, even if it&rsquo;s longer, don&rsquo;t go for shortcuts.&rdquo; That single sentence has stayed with me as a timeless reminder of integrity and perseverance

Amjad sahib was one of the most genuine, humble, and kind-hearted souls I have ever met. His passion for literature, unwavering principles, and ability to make others feel seen and valued will forever remain in my heart. Our last meeting was at an Urdu Conference in Karachi. Just two months later, we were devastated by the news of his passing.&rdquo;

I will forever cherish a verse he often recited to us &mdash; one that captured his profound insight:

Pair ko deemak lag jayay, ya adamzad ko gham

Dono hi ko Amjad ham ne bachtay dekha kam

He would speak these lines with such gravity that you could feel the weight of his lived experience. His memory lives on &mdash; not only in his poetry, but in the hearts of all those who had the privilege of knowing him. As I write these words, it is difficult to hold back tears &mdash; a testament to how deeply Amjad sahib continues to live in our hearts.

&nbsp;

Muttahir Ahmed Khan is an author, analyst, educationist, can be reached at muttahirahmedkhan@gmail.com

All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the writer]]>
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			<title>The other way to be a parent</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2560621/the-other-way-to-be-a-parent</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2560621/the-other-way-to-be-a-parent#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 10 Aug 25 09:53:13 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Rabia Khan]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2560621</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[In a country where infertility is stigmatised &amp; orphans neglected, adoption stands as an overlooked solution]]>
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				<![CDATA[In a society like ours, where parenthood is considered a divine blessing and social milestone, childlessness often carries emotional and cultural burdens. Meanwhile, millions of orphaned children across the country long for a family, a home, and a chance at life. What if these two unmet needs could fulfill each other?

Adoption is not just an act of compassion; it is an answer to two silent prayers. It brings emotional peace to couples unable to have children and provides love, security, and opportunity to children who have lost everything. In a nation struggling with social inequality, displacement, and orphanhood, promoting adoption both culturally and religiously can be a transformative force.

I have seen many couples in our society who remain childless even after several years of marriage. Despite being financially strong, emotionally mature, and socially well-settled, they continue to wait for their &ldquo;own&rdquo; child, turning to expensive medical treatments or spiritual solutions, while rarely considering adoption.

I remember during my time in Karachi, I knew at least seven to eight such couples who had been married for over six to seven years and still didn&rsquo;t have children. They were loving, capable people who had everything needed to raise a child except a shift in mindset. They could have changed a child&rsquo;s life and perhaps their own, simply by opening their hearts to adoption.

I also recall my time as a school teacher, where I often interacted with colleagues and parents during meetings and school events. Even there, I came across couples who had no children and frequently spoke about their longing to become parents. Looking at the growing number of orphaned children in Pakistan, I often wondered silently: Why don&rsquo;t they adopt? Why can&rsquo;t these loving people open their homes to children who have no one?

In Pakistan, an estimated 15 to 20 per cent of married couples are unable to have children, according to national health data. That means one in every five to six couples silently struggles with infertility. Yet few consider adoption as a solution.

About a year ago, I met a couple from Nawabshah, Sindh, whose story completely changed my perspective on adoption. They were not highly educated, but the decision they made was deeply wise and compassionate. After several years of trying and waiting for a child, they chose to adopt a baby girl. Despite coming from a modest background, they raised her with unconditional love, ensured she received proper schooling, and gave her everything a child deserves in terms of care, affection, and dignity.

Miraculously, a few years later, they were naturally blessed with biological children as well. Their adopted daughter grew up joyfully, surrounded by siblings, thriving in a household where she was never treated any differently. That one decision not only transformed her life, it brought emotional and spiritual fulfillment to the entire family. It was a powerful reminder that you don&rsquo;t need a high degree to make an educated decision; you just need a kind heart.

This story proved to me that adoption does not block blessings; it multiplies them.

A forgotten generation

According to the UN, there are more than 4.6 million orphan children in Pakistan, and mostly they are under the age of 17. This significant portion of our population is suffering from social deprivation, lacking not only parental love but also access to basic rights such as education, healthcare, safety, and emotional support. Their condition reflects a crisis that must be addressed on an urgent and national scale.

The vulnerability doesn&rsquo;t end there. A shocking 3.3 million children in Pakistan are engaged in child labour, many of whom are orphans or come from broken and unsupported homes. These children are forced into domestic work, begging, factory labour, or even dangerous jobs that rob them of their health and their future. Without education or stability, their dreams are crushed before they even begin to grow.

Many of these children have lost their families due to poverty, terrorism, illness, or natural disasters such as floods and earthquakes. Without parental care and protection, they often end up in overcrowded orphanages or on the streets where they face neglect, exploitation, and abuse.

Natural disasters have made this problem worse. The 2005 Kashmir earthquake left thousands of children orphaned overnight. Amid this heartbreak, one story still inspires many&mdash;renowned singer Hadiqa Kiani adopted a baby boy, Naad-e-Ali, from the affected region. She gave him a home, an identity, and a future.

Her action remains a shining example that motherhood is not defined by birth, but by love.

These are not just numbers. These are lives; young souls with untapped potential, and waiting for someone to care. By opening our hearts and homes, we can rewrite their stories.

Islam and adoption

Contrary to cultural hesitation, Islam does not prohibit adoption. In fact, it encourages the care of orphans in powerful and explicit terms. While the religion maintains the child&#39;s lineage and identity (nasab), it urges believers to take full responsibility for orphaned children, providing them with love, protection, and sustenance.

The Qur&#39;an says: &quot;They ask you concerning orphans. Say: Improvement for them is best.&quot;
(Surah Al-Baqarah, 2:220)

&quot;And they give food in spite of love for it to the needy, the orphan, and the captive, [saying], and &lsquo;We feed you only for the countenance of Allah. We wish not from you reward or gratitude.&#39;&quot;
(Surah Al-Insan, 76:8-9)

The Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) himself was an orphan. His love for orphans is deeply invested in Islamic teachings. He said:

&quot;I and the one who cares for an orphan will be together in Paradise like this,&quot;
and he indicated his two fingers together to illustrate closeness. (Sahih Bukhari)

This hadith alone should be enough to motivate Muslim couples to consider caring for an orphan. Adoption, in the Islamic framework of kafalah (guardianship), allows a child to retain their name and identity while being raised with love and dignity in a stable home.

When a child is adopted into a stable, loving home, they gain access to education, healthcare, emotional support, and social security. No longer lost in a system, the child now has a real chance to break out of the cycle of poverty and trauma.

From street shelter children to CEOs, success stories begin with opportunity. When childless couples adopt, they do not only just fulfill their own dream of parenting but also they give a child the gift of a new life. That child may grow up to become a doctor, teacher, leader, or change-maker. But more than anything, that child grows up loved.

Moreover, the couple gains emotional fulfillment, companionship in old age, and a deeper sense of purpose. Adoption turns an aching silence into laughter-filled rooms. It transforms lives on both sides.

The cultural silence 

Despite religious encouragement and emotional need, adoption is still taboo in many parts of Pakistani society. Some families fear societal judgment, some worry about inheritance and bloodline purity, and others hesitate simply because it&#39;s not the &quot;norm.&quot; But we must break this silence.

Let us remind ourselves and our communities that Islam encourages the care of orphans, and modern legal systems in Pakistan already allow adoption under guardianship law. It is possible to adopt while retaining the child&rsquo;s lineage and complying with religious values.

We need bold voices, including scholars, teachers, celebrities, and religious leaders, to speak openly about adoption and its blessings. We need media campaigns that showcase successful adoptive families. We need government policies that ease legal barriers and provide post-adoption support.

A social and national responsibility

Adoption is not just a private matter; it is a national social responsibility. With thousands of orphaned children growing up without care, the consequences for society are grave. These children, if unsupported, are vulnerable to child labour, drug abuse, trafficking, extremism, and chronic poverty.

By encouraging adoption, we are investing in human potential. Every child deserves a family, and every family has the power to change a child&rsquo;s life. Adoption not only reduces state burden on orphanages and shelters but also strengthens the social fabric of the nation.

Let&rsquo;s change the narrative: Every adopted child is not a burden taken in but a blessing brought home.

Pakistan stands at a crossroads. On one side are millions of orphaned children living without love; on the other, thousands of childless couples living without the joy of parenting. Between them stands a cultural wall that only we can tear down with empathy, education, and courage.

We must learn from the examples around us. From the couple I met who adopted and were later blessed with biological children, to public figures like Hadiqa Kiani who showed the nation what motherhood really means.

Let us answer the call of our faith:

&quot;Do not oppress the orphan.&quot; (Surah Ad-Duhaa, 93:9)

Let us not fear what society will say but rather ask ourselves: What will Allah say?

To every childless couple yearning for a child, and to every orphaned child longing for a parent, the answer may be found in each other. Let us open our homes. Let us open our hearts. Let us create families not just by blood, but by love, faith, and choice.

Because sometimes, the most beautiful families are not born, they are made.

&nbsp;

Rabia Khan is a teacher and freelance contributor

All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the writer]]>
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			<title>Still addicted to the City</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2560617/still-addicted-to-the-city</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2560617/still-addicted-to-the-city#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 10 Aug 25 09:30:09 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Fouzia Nasir Ahmad]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Life &amp; Style]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2560617</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[Sex and the City gave an entire generation of women the language, confidence &amp; courage to be complicated]]>
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				<![CDATA[As And Just Like That, the reboot of the 90s and early noughties show Sex and the City (SATC), will come to a close after its third season, according to an HBO announcement. One can&rsquo;t help but reminisce about how SATC hit us 20 years ago and shaped us through the following years.

1998

I first heard a casual mention of it from my boss at the time. The title triggered a curiosity and when I got the DVD and began watching, I was surprised a man was watching it. Later, her clarified, he had to succumb to watching it because his wife was hooked to it.

Remember how Sarah Lee Parkinson as Carrie Bradshaw appeared on the screen in the opening credits? A pink tutu and a blue crop top with a white tank top underneath, on the busy streets of Manhattan, as she contemplates the swarms of people, sizes the traffic, a cab splashes through a rainwater puddle, startling Bradshow as she gets somewhat soaked.

After that, eventually, some 94 episodes helped shape an entire generation&rsquo;s understanding of womanhood, friendship, fashion, and the messy art of falling (and failing) in love. What started as a half-hour cable series based on Candace Bushnell&rsquo;s columns in the New York Observer became a global phenomenon. Today, Sex and the City still lives on &mdash; not just through reruns, reboots, and memes, but in the conversations women love to have about love, identity, and walking boldly or aspiring to walk boldly in a pair of too-expensive heels.

But why did this show take hold the way it did? Why does it still have a devoted following of women &mdash; and some men &mdash; who quote it, rewatch it? Why is it still relevant?

The answer is simple and layered all at once: because it was honest, aspirational, glamorous, raw, flawed, funny, daring, and, above all, relatable.

A mirror with lipstick smudges

For many of us, Sex and the City wasn&rsquo;t just entertainment. It was a mirror &mdash; smudged with lipstick and possibly bated breath before interviews, proposals, dates, but a mirror nonetheless. The mirror reflected it all. The awkwardness of situations in life, the messiness of blunders we make, the trauma of breakups, the blissful beauty of close female friendships, and the never-ending battle between independence and intimacy.

We met four characters who weren&rsquo;t perfect &mdash; and that&rsquo;s precisely why we loved them. We secretly chose our own character. Some of us were Carrie, some Samantha and some Miranda or Charlotte. We could also identify our friends in these oh-so-relatable characters. They were not good, nor bad, just four different women who were friends. Who said people who are friends have to be same?

Each woman was a composite of contradictions, and we saw ourselves in them. Maybe we felt like Charlotte when her picture-perfect man turned out to be a disappointment. Or like Miranda, who couldn&rsquo;t quite believe that her underachieving boyfriend was a great guy. We winced in recognition when Carrie sabotaged something good for something unresolved, and we rooted for Samantha, who was unapologetically herself but quietly terrified of growing old alone.

Even their humiliations felt like ours: doing a boo-boo in a relationship, calling someone too many times, stalking an ex&rsquo;s new girlfriend online before social media made it easy. These weren&rsquo;t just storylines. They were our stories &mdash; elevated and glamourised with better shoes and sharper one-liners.

The Manhattan magic

The show also made New York City feel like a living, breathing character &mdash; equal parts romantic backdrop and unforgiving playground, snowy nights, rainy nights, sunny days, windy days. If you were in your twenties or thirties during the late &rsquo;90s and early 2000s, SATC probably made you want to pack a suitcase and run to Manhattan. The walk-ups, the cabs, the steam from the street grates &mdash; it all seemed magical, gritty, and full of promise and potential.

Ever since, I have had the biggest wish to visit New York, walk the streets of Manhattan, where the SATC girls walked. Just like the four characters seem my own friends because I have lived almost a hundred episodes with them, sharing their ups and downs of life, I also felt I have a special connection with New York.

The focus on fashion 

Of course, the fashion element attracted women audiences as much as the lives of the characters did. We dreamed of owning Blahniks. The visionary eye of costume designer Patricia Field, the show didn&rsquo;t just reflect style &mdash; it created it. Manolo Blahnik became a household name, as much as Fendi baguettes, giant flower pins, nameplate necklaces, tank tops and mismatched prints suddenly became statements. Field blended vintage with couture, accessible pieces with aspirational ones. Carrie&rsquo;s tutu in the opening credits may have been from a bargain bin but her shoes cost more than her rent. The contradiction was the point that connected with millions of women across the world.

The beauty of it all was that you didn&rsquo;t have to own the clothes to feel included. Watching the show felt like flipping through a fashion magazine or a clothes catalogue, where someone like you &mdash; a woman trying to figure things out &mdash; was on every page. It made style feel personal. Women across the world recreated looks, searched thrift shops for knockoffs, and dreamed a little bigger about what their own wardrobes could say about who they were becoming.

The show didn&rsquo;t just showcase established luxury houses like Prada, Dolce &amp; Gabbana, and Chanel &mdash; it launched little-known designers into stardom. Everything Carrie touched turned to fashion gold. More importantly, the show helped dismantle the idea that style belonged only to the rich or the polished. It celebrated eccentricity, experimentation, and the idea that what you wear can be both armour and expression. The magic was in giving women the tiniest nudge that it is good to dress up and feel feminine and pretty and fashionable and stylish&hellip; and why not!

Being a woman

But it wasn&rsquo;t just about clothes and cocktails. At its core, it gave women permission to speak &mdash; openly, boldly, with nuance &mdash; about things that had often been shrouded in silence, and in no way feel embarrassed or ashamed about it. From desire to relationships to fertility struggles and cheating, the show unpacked the full spectrum of female growth.

It introduced phrases that still live in our heads and have become a culture at large. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s just not that into you&rdquo; became not just a mantra, but a bestselling book &mdash; and eventually a star-studded movie. Carrie&rsquo;s description of the &ldquo;za-za-zou&rdquo; &mdash; that electric spark of a new connection &mdash; gave a name to something we&rsquo;d all felt but never quite understood. The show became our reference book for love, and in doing so, it normalised things we once felt too embarrassed to say out loud.

It also dared to ask whether having it all was even a real thing &mdash; or just another myth we were expected to chase. It wasn&rsquo;t afraid to show women making compromises, mistakes, getting it wrong, or messing up or redefining success on their own terms. In a world still trying to reconcile ambition with femininity, this was radical.

Deeply personal

For many of us, the show was deeply personal as it carried us through heartbreaks, career shifts, the giddiness of getting engaged, and the quiet reckoning that comes with realising marriage isn&rsquo;t all honeymoon. Carrie&rsquo;s writer&rsquo;s block became my own. Charlotte&rsquo;s idealism made me do eye-rolls, and then when I learnt her logic, it didn&rsquo;t. Miranda&rsquo;s sarcasm became my protective shield and (my favourite) Samantha&rsquo;s wildness reminded me to become/stay bold.

My DVD player doesn&rsquo;t work anymore but I still have a treasured pile of SATC DVDs deep in my closet. Nevertheless, I have watched and rewatched the series several times.

Because the truth is, SATC wasn&rsquo;t just about four women trying to find love. It was about four women trying to find themselves. And in watching them, we began to find ourselves, too.

The cult or legacy

Over two decades later, the impact of the show hasn&rsquo;t faded &mdash; it&rsquo;s just evolved. The reboot (And Just Like That&hellip;) may not carry the same magic for everyone, but it speaks to something essential: these characters, and what they represented, are still very much a part of us.

The show shaped how we talk about womanhood, how we dress, how we love, how we fall apart and come back together. It showed us that our flaws could be fabulous, that our friendships could be sacred, and that even if we didn&rsquo;t always know what we were doing, we could still strut our way through life, maybe in Blahniks too!

The show inspired many other series such as Girlfriends (2000), Entourage (2004), Grey&rsquo;s Anatomy (2005), Gossip Girl (2007), and Girls (2012), but none could muster a cult following like SATC

The story of how four fictional women in Manhattan became real to millions, and this is why they&rsquo;re still with us, every time we question love, chase a dream, or walk a little taller in our best heels. SATC will always be relevant for it created a space for women, their feelings, successes, celebrations, mistakes, messes, sorrows, regrets, closet-bursting wardrobes and hair-raising opinions. Hence, women globally don&rsquo;t expect a man (creatures from outside that space) to understand their believe that the right pair of shoes really could change their life.]]>
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			<title>PTI’s slide, from populism to political isolation</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2560616/ptis-slide-from-populism-to-political-isolation</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2560616/ptis-slide-from-populism-to-political-isolation#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 10 Aug 25 09:21:30 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Rizwan Shehzad  ]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2560616</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[Once the loudest political force, the party now stands sidelined in parliament &amp; the streets]]>
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				<![CDATA[A year ago, August 5 would have plunged the Twin Cities into chaos. Roads would have been sealed and containers mounted, yet crowds would have been roaring in protest. But on August 5 this year, the anniversary of Imran Khan&rsquo;s arrest from Islamabad in 2023, the streets of Rawalpindi and Islamabad remained calm, undisturbed by the opposition&rsquo;s call for a protest. Only scattered police mobiles, prison vans and a visible security presence dotted major intersections and, that too, not to manage unrest but to watch over the conspicuous silence.

This marked not just a shift in public response but symbolised a deeper collapse within the country&rsquo;s once-largest and loudest political force: the Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI). The very day the party hoped to reignite street resistance on the second anniversary of its founding chairman&rsquo;s incarceration, it turned into one of the darkest day for the party as its remaining top parliamentary leaders in the Senate, National Assembly and Punjab Assembly were disqualified and de-notified in connection with the judgment of the May 9 riots&rsquo; cases.

Politically and geographically, the party that once claimed unmatched public support and alleged institutional blessings is now apparently confined to Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa, where it still holds power. Elsewhere, PTI has largely been wiped off the mainstream political map.

One example of it is its failure to mobilise people for August 5 protest, which the party supremo had desired to exert pressure on the PMLN-led government and the powerful stakeholders for his release. As the irony would have it, Imran Khan had given a final call for his release last November, which had failed too.

PTI&rsquo;s political decay has been anything but sudden. The party, once riding high on populist slogans and support from powerful quarters, began losing ground after the events of May 9, 2023, when violent protests erupted following Imran Khan&rsquo;s arrest.

For the first time in history, military installations were attacked, triggering what would become a decisive turning point. In the aftermath, a sweeping crackdown followed, with mass arrests and party leaders forced to switch party, abandon politics or disassociate from the party altogether.

As the top-tier leaders vanished from the scene under duress, defection, court proceedings or because of being thrown in jail, the party&rsquo;s internal coordination shattered. Yet, despite crackdowns, the party workers continued to come out to support in big numbers until recently. However, the continuous disarray in the party and the leadership&rsquo;s absence when rank-and-file workers faced arrests or prosecutions started creating gap between the people and the party leadership.

This repeated pattern of abandonment has not gone unnoticed within PTI&rsquo;s support base, which once prided itself on being ideologically driven and deeply loyal, both on social media and on the ground. However, the absence of organised resistance on the symbolic August 5, when Imran Khan urged the party to rise in protest, showcased just how far PTI has fallen from its former position of street dominance.

To add insult to injury, the disqualification of opposition leaders from the Senate, National Assembly and Punjab Assembly as well as parliamentary leader further demonstrated PTI&rsquo;s decline inside legislative houses. With the removal of its parliamentary leadership, the party now finds itself unable to influence legislation, challenge government policy or even issue symbolic dissent within parliamentary bounds.

This parliamentary vacuum has come on the heels of the Supreme Court&rsquo;s recent decision on reserved seats, which handed a crucial advantage to the ruling alliance. The court ruled in favour of awarding reserved seats, previously meant for PTI, to parties within the ruling coalition. As a result, the PMLN emerged as the single largest party in the National Assembly while the ruling alliance now enjoys a two-thirds majority.

PTI&rsquo;s failure to maintain internal cohesion and external alliances has left it directionless. Instead of holding talks with the political elite, it has repeatedly said that it only wishes to hold talks with the powerful stakeholders. However, the response from the other side has so far been extremely cold. Once seen as cordial, the party&rsquo;s relationship with the establishment is now completely fractured. From being perceived as a product of tacit institutional support, PTI is now an example of what political isolation in Pakistan looks like.

Though the party is in power in Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa, it is still under pressure. Its previous attempts to organise major activities beyond KP have constantly been met with pre-emptive state action like arrests, bans, and curbs on public gatherings. Last September, after holding a rally in the capital, the law enforcement officials barged into the Parliament to arrest PTI lawmakers for flouting a law on political rallies. Subsequently, the party only managed to reach the capital in November, but only to abandon the party workers and without gaining anything. Since then, it tried to flex muscles and announced that the protest movement would start soon after Eid but that never happened.

Lack of clarity on future course of action, party leadership&rsquo;s inability to craft a post-Imran political narrative, grouping in the party and almost no control of the incumbent party chairman over its members have all contributed to its current paralysis. Currently, with Imran Khan in jail and his appeals zigzagging through the courts, the party&rsquo;s entire political strategy remains centered on his personality but disconnected from political realities.

In contrast, the PMLN-led ruling coalition has capitalised on PTI&rsquo;s weaknesses. With the opposition effectively sidelined, the government has moved to consolidate power both legally and politically. With the 26th constitutional amendment, the ruling alliance changed the judicial structure and the process of appointing the top judge of the country by nominating the chief justice from among the most senior judges, rather than the most senior judge automatically assuming the position. Additionally, the court decision on reserved seats handed not just numbers but legitimacy to the alliance and rumours are that it was gearing up for another constitutional amendment.

By avoiding major political controversies and projecting a narrative of stability and economic recovery as well as victory over India in the recent war, the ruling alliance is now busy crafting the image of a functioning and united government, even though governance issues persist. For now, the political arena seems to be a one-sided contest. With a crippled opposition, a solid parliamentary majority and little visible public resistance, the ruling alliance appears to have full control, at least until the next major shift.

PTI&rsquo;s downfall is not just about arrests or disqualifications. It&rsquo;s about a party that lost its organisational discipline, confronted the very forces that once helped it rise only to demand the same thing again and failed to protect or rally its support base when it mattered most. From dominating national headlines to being pushed to the margins, PTI&rsquo;s journey over the last few years is a study in political reversal. And with no clear path forward, no functioning top-tier leadership and no signs of reconciliation with power centres, the party that once ruled from Islamabad now watches from the sidelines; increasingly limited to KP.

For now, the streets are quiet, the opposition is broken and the ruling coalition reigns unchallenged.]]>
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			<title>Pakistan Navy’s deterrence: neutralising India’s signaling</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2560610/pakistan-navys-deterrence-neutralising-indias-signaling</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2560610/pakistan-navys-deterrence-neutralising-indias-signaling#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sun, 10 Aug 25 08:44:35 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Dr Rabia Akhtar]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://tribune.com.pk/?p=2560610</guid>
			<description>
				<![CDATA[By quietly enhancing its capabilities, PN has ensured Delhi can’t take the Arabian Sea for granted]]>
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				<![CDATA[In May 2025, India and Pakistan fought a brief, but intense conflict triggered by a terror attack in Pahalgam, Jammu &amp; Kashmir. India&rsquo;s response, code-named Operation Sindoor, involved unprecedented air and missile strikes deep inside Pakistan.

The four-day clash (May 7&ndash;10) saw both sides pushing new boundaries with drones, cruise missiles, and short-range ballistic missiles, yet carefully avoiding full-scale war. Notably, while the Indian Navy surged its western fleet into the Arabian Sea, no naval battles occurred; the deployments were signal rather than direct engagement.

After a ceasefire was brokered by the US on May 10, Indian officials were quick to boast. Defence Minister Rajnath Singh warned that any future &ldquo;evil&rdquo; act by Pakistan would &ldquo;face the firepower and ire of the Indian Navy,&rdquo; stressing that India had &ldquo;paused&rdquo; Operation Sindoor &ldquo;on our own terms&rdquo; and that its forces &ldquo;had not even started showing their might&rdquo;. This aggressive maritime signaling, essentially a threat that next time India would unleash naval power, was meant to project dominance.

Pakistan, however, read these signals very differently. Islamabad&rsquo;s civil and military leadership dismissed India&rsquo;s chest-thumping and highlighted that Pakistan&rsquo;s armed forces, including its Navy, had held their own. In a post-conflict briefing, Pakistan&rsquo;s Director General of Inter-Services Public Relations noted that only a &ldquo;small portion&rdquo; of Pakistan&rsquo;s capability was used in the fight, and that the Pakistan Navy had effectively kept the Indian Navy at bay during the hostilities.

Naval officers displayed maps and slides to media, explaining how Pakistan&rsquo;s fleet protected its waters and deterred India from any seaborne misadventure. Indeed, despite India&rsquo;s deployment of an aircraft carrier group and other warships, they never engaged Pakistan&rsquo;s coast or ports, underscoring that India&rsquo;s maritime muscle-flexing was neutralized by Pakistan&rsquo;s own posture and the inherent risks of escalation. Pakistan Navy&rsquo;s quiet deterrence ensured that India&rsquo;s much-touted naval power remained a bluff that was never called in battle.

Asymmetric Strength of the Pakistan Navy

Despite being smaller in size, the Pakistan Navy wields a mix of capabilities that make it a formidable deterrent force in the Arabian Sea. History offers a powerful reminder: during the 1971 war, Pakistan&rsquo;s diesel-electric submarine PNS Hangor prowled the Indian Ocean and detected an Indian task force led by the frigate INS Khukri. In a daring attack, the lone sub fired a homing torpedo that struck and sank INS Khukri, the first warship ever lost to a submarine in the region.

This feat shocked India and forced its navy on the defensive for the remainder of that war. The Hangor&rsquo;s victory, achieved despite Pakistan&rsquo;s naval inferiority, has become legend, a single submarine&rsquo;s remarkable courage altering the course of battle. The lesson endures: any major Indian warship venturing into Pakistan&rsquo;s domain could face a similarly fateful encounter with one of Pakistan&rsquo;s &ldquo;silent service&rdquo; vessels.

Today, Pakistan&rsquo;s submarine fleet remains the ace of its arsenal. The Navy operates modern Agosta- 90B (Khalid-class) diesel-electric submarines, equipped with Air-Independent Propulsion for extended stealth endurance. These subs carry heavyweight torpedoes and Exocet SM39 anti-ship missiles, enabling them to strike surface targets without warning. In a conflict, Pakistan&rsquo;s subs would likely lie in wait along India&rsquo;s approach routes, unseen hunters in the depths. Even India&rsquo;s largest units, such as aircraft carriers, would be vulnerable; a carrier strike group is inherently exposed in the confined North Arabian Sea, where Pakistan&rsquo;s coastal radars and short response times favor the defender.

Former Pakistani strategic planners have noted that India&rsquo;s 7,500 km coastline and numerous high-value naval assets are a target-rich environment from a sea-denial perspective. In plainer terms, India has far more to lose at sea, large warships, oil tankers, port infrastructure, all of which present lucrative targets for Pakistan&rsquo;s undersea and coastal forces.



Pakistan&rsquo;s Navy demonstrated its growing indigenous firepower with tests like the Harbah naval cruise missile, shown here launching from fast-attack craft PNS Himmat. Harbah is a dual-purpose anti-ship and land-attack missile with a range of up to 280 km, significantly extending Pakistan&rsquo;s striking reach. (Source: DefenseNews)

In addition to subs, Pakistan has invested in high-tech asymmetric weapons to counter India&rsquo;s naval might. One major leap has been the development of indigenous cruise missiles. In 2018, the Navy test-fired the Harbah cruise missile from the Azmat-class FAC PNS Himmat, dramatically hitting a target ship over the horizon. Harbah, a variant of the Babur missile family, is a surface-to-surface weapon with both anti-ship and land-attack capability. Defense analysts called Harbah, a step up for the Pakistan Navy, noting it out-ranges and outperforms older systems like the Harpoon and C-802.

The test&rsquo;s success once again demonstrated the credible firepower of the Pakistan Navy and the high level of indigenization achieved by its defense industry. In Navy Chief Adm. Zafar Abbasi&rsquo;s words, such strides reflect the resolve to ensure seaward defense of Pakistan and safeguard national maritime interests at all costs.



Harbah NG Anti-Ship Missile. (Source: Quwa.org)

Pakistan has also deployed shore-based anti-ship missiles (often kept shrouded in secrecy) that further complicate an adversary&rsquo;s plans. A Babur coastal-defense variant (Zarb) was tested in 2017, giving Pakistan a land-based missile to target ships approaching its ports. Combined with modern frigates now entering service, like the new Chinese-built Type 054A/P frigates equipped with long-range LY-80 (HQ-16) surface-to-air missiles, the Navy is steadily improving its area denial envelope.

Pakistan cannot match India ship-for-ship, but it does not need to. Instead, its strategy focuses on denying the Arabian Sea to hostile incursions. Fast attack craft with cruise missiles, coastal batteries, and lurking submarines create layered threats that would make any Indian naval offensive a dangerous gamble.

Mass is not decisive in these waters; Pakistan&rsquo;s naval doctrine focuses on sea denial and coastal defense, seeking to restore deterrence equilibrium despite a smaller fleet. The Pakistan Navy may surprise a numerically superior adversary by the creativity and lethality of its responses. The Indian Navy, for all its size, would have to respect these asymmetries.

To illustrate, consider what an Indian task force would face if it tried to approach Karachi or Gwadar in a future clash. Long-range anti-ship missiles could rain down without the launch platform ever coming into the Indian fleet&rsquo;s radar. Diesel submarines could pick off a destroyer or even a carrier, just as Hangor did in 1971, sowing panic and paralysis. Swarms of smaller missile boats and drones could harass and confuse the invaders.

Meanwhile, Pakistan&rsquo;s coastline bristles with defenses; any warship venturing too near risks being targeted from land. India&rsquo;s vaunted blue-water navy would effectively be chained by the invisible perimeter Pakistan has set up. Thus, the quiet deployment of these capabilities deters India from even attempting a naval adventure.

As one retired Pakistani general observed, India&rsquo;s heavy dependence on the maritime domain (for power projection and energy imports) is a strategic vulnerability Pakistan can exploit. Simply put, the cost of a naval war would be unbearably high for New Delhi, a reality that Pakistan&rsquo;s Navy leverages to keep the peace.

Pakistan&rsquo;s sea-based second strike

Perhaps the most profound aspect of Pakistan&rsquo;s maritime deterrence, and one often overlooked in India&rsquo;s saber-rattling, is the introduction of a sea-based nuclear capability. Pakistan has quietly but steadily worked to complete its nuclear triad, and the Navy is integral to this effort.

In January 2017, Pakistan successfully tested the Babur-3 submarine-launched cruise missile (SLCM) from an underwater platform. This stealthy missile, with a 450 km range, was specifically designed to carry a nuclear warhead.

The Babur-3 test was hailed by Islamabad as achieving a credible second-strike capability, in other words, the ability to retaliate with nuclear weapons from the sea, even if the

country&rsquo;s land-based nukes were taken out. The plan now coming to fruition is to arm Pakistan&rsquo;s diesel-electric subs with nuclear-tipped cruise missiles, which are far harder for an enemy to detect or preempt. By dispersing nuclear assets under the ocean surface, Pakistan closes off any enemy hopes of a disarming first strike.



A Pakistan Navy Khalid-class submarine at a 2024 maritime exhibition. These Agosta-90B subs, now upgraded with air-independent propulsion and modern weaponry, are reportedly capable of launching the Babur-3 nuclear-capable cruise missile.

Indian criticism of Pakistan&rsquo;s SLCM

The Indian critiques of Pakistan&rsquo;s Babur-3 submarine-launched cruise missile (SLCM) highlight supposed vulnerabilities, such as limited missile range, detection risks from Indian surveillance, and alleged operational constraints. However, these assessments overlook critical strategic and operational dimensions.

Firstly, the introduction of the Babur-3 fundamentally complicates India&#39;s deterrence calculus, regardless of its stated operational range. Even a modest sea-based nuclear capability introduces significant uncertainty for adversarial planning, compelling India to expend considerable resources toward continuous maritime surveillance and anti-submarine warfare efforts without guaranteed success.

Secondly, Indian analyses underestimate Pakistan Navy&rsquo;s operational ingenuity and experience, particularly its demonstrated capability for stealth and strategic surprise, evident from historical incidents like the successful evasion and engagement by Pakistani submarines in past Indo-Pak crises.

Thirdly, Indian assertions about detection capabilities and confinement of Pakistani submarines overlook modern submarine operational doctrines, which leverage mobility, stealth, and deception, raising serious doubts about India&#39;s claimed ability to confine Pakistani submarines to territorial waters effectively.

Lastly, while challenges in command, control, and communication exist universally in submarine- based deterrence, Pakistan&rsquo;s investments in secure communication infrastructure, redundancy, and procedural controls significantly mitigate the risks associated with nuclear command delegation.

Thus, contrary to Indian claims, the Babur-3 substantially enhances Pakistan&#39;s strategic depth, providing a credible and resilient second-strike capability vital for regional stability.

Today, Pakistan&rsquo;s Naval Strategic Force Command is believed to be operational, overseeing these sea-based nuclear forces. At least one of the Agosta-90B subs (PNS Khalid) has undergone upgrades in Turkey, rejoining service with the ability to fire Babur-3 missiles. This development significantly strengthens Pakistan&rsquo;s credible second-strike capability, enhancing strategic stability by reinforcing deterrence against potential aggression.

If India were ever to contemplate a naval preemptive strike, such as an attempt to neutralize Pakistan&rsquo;s naval assets or blockade its ports, it must contend with Pakistan&#39;s robust capability to mount an effective conventional retaliation at sea, independent of its nuclear deterrent. Pakistan&#39;s maritime forces are fully prepared to respond decisively through conventional means, significantly raising the strategic costs for India and diminishing any potential gains from such aggression. Such a scenario is the worst nightmare of any military planner, effectively deterring India from entertaining fantasies of an easy, one-sided naval war.

Moreover, the introduction of nuclear weapons at sea blurs the line between conventional and nuclear domains in a crisis. India&rsquo;s military thinkers sometimes speak of fighting a limited war under the nuclear overhang, implying they can carefully calibrate strikes (even at sea) without crossing Pakistan&rsquo;s red lines. But Pakistan firmly rejects the idea that the Indian Ocean is a safe sanctuary for limited aggression. Any attack on critical Pakistani targets, be it a coastal city, naval base, or strategic economic node like Gwadar port, would be judged by its effect, not the domain it came from.

A missile fired from an Indian warship that devastates a Pakistani port could very well be seen as strategic escalation, regardless of whether that missile was conventional. The risk of miscalculation is immense. India has deployed supersonic BrahMos cruise missiles on multiple platforms, including warships and coastal batteries, and even integrated them into its Strategic Forces Command.

Pakistan regards the BrahMos as a dual-capable system (able to carry nuclear or conventional warheads) and thus inherently destabilizing. During the 2025 conflict, Indian media claimed that up to 15 BrahMos missiles were launched at Pakistani targets. Islamabad viewed that as a menacing signal, because when such high-speed missiles are in play, radar operators and decision-makers cannot know if the incoming warhead is conventional or nuclear. In the fog of war, a navy launching a volley of BrahMos could trigger Pakistan&rsquo;s worst-case assumptions, forcing its hand toward escalation.

This is why Pakistan persistently warns that any Indian naval attack would be playing with fire. There is no neat geography of war where India can contain escalation at sea. Pakistan&rsquo;s leadership has signaled that its nuclear thresholds are not fixed lines on a map, they depend on the nature of the attack and the targets. An attack on a Pakistani Navy submarine base or a strike intended to choke Pakistan&rsquo;s economy would be interpreted as an existential threat. Under its doctrine of Full Spectrum Deterrence, Pakistan reserves the option to respond with tactical or strategic nuclear weapons if its survival is at stake.

The presence of nuclear-armed submarines simply reinforces this stance by adding an element of uncertainty for the aggressor. The end result is sobering: even India&rsquo;s most hawkish planners must realize that attempting a decisive blow at sea could ignite a nuclear confrontation, an outcome no rational actor wants. In effect, Pakistan&rsquo;s sea-based nukes serve as the ultimate quiet backstop, guaranteeing that a naval conflict would never remain &ldquo;limited&rdquo; for long.

Dire consequences of a misadventure at sea

India&rsquo;s talk of launching an &ldquo;air and sea&rdquo; offensive next time might be intended to cow Islamabad, but a closer look reveals that such a gambit would carry dire consequences for India itself, strategic, economic, and political. Pakistan&rsquo;s robust naval deterrence ensures that a maritime misadventure would be a high-risk, high-cost proposition. Indian leaders contemplating pre-emptive action at sea should consider the following outcomes:

The Indian Navy would face the genuine possibility of losing capital warships in combat. A single Pakistani submarine or missile salvo could cripple or sink a multi-billion-dollar vessel, for example, an aircraft carrier like INS Vikrant or Vikramaditya. Such a loss would not only decimate India&rsquo;s naval prestige but also shock the nation. The psychological impact of, say, a carrier going down (with thousands of sailors) is hard to overstate; it could rival the trauma of past military defeats.

Even smaller losses, like destroyers or frigates struck by cruise missiles, would erode India&rsquo;s numerical advantage and prove Pakistan&rsquo;s point that the Arabian Sea cannot be dominated at will. Pakistan&rsquo;s navy, though modest, would impose serious attrition on any attacking force, as its strategy is to make the sea a no-go zone through layered defense. Indian naval planners know that even a &ldquo;victory&rdquo; could look pyrrhic if key assets lie at the bottom of the ocean.

A war at sea in South Asia would send shudders through the global shipping industry and India would be hit hardest. The Indian economy is heavily dependent on seaborne trade and energy imports (most of India&rsquo;s oil arrives via sea routes). Pakistan&rsquo;s navy, by virtue of geography, sits astride the arterial shipping lanes of the Arabian Sea.

In wartime, it could implement a sea-denial strategy to disrupt these flows. Pakistani submarines and missile units could threaten commercial shipping along India&rsquo;s west coast or in the Arabian Sea choke points. Just the credible threat of a submarine on the loose would likely force merchant traffic to reroute or halt.

War risk insurance premiums for vessels heading to Indian ports would skyrocket overnight. Oil tankers might refuse to enter conflict zones, leading to fuel shortages and price spikes in India. Vital exports and imports could languish. The economic cost to India, already severe from military expenditures, would compound with each day of maritime insecurity. Pakistan, with a smaller economy, would also suffer

disruptions, but India&rsquo;s much larger stake in global trade means it stands to lose far more in absolute terms. Moreover, India&rsquo;s coastline hosts major refineries, ports (like Mumbai, Kandla), and industrial hubs; these are high-value targets that Pakistan could hit with long-range missiles if pushed.

Damage to just one large port or petrochemical complex could inflict billions of dollars in losses and long-term setbacks. In essence, initiating a naval war would be akin to India shooting itself in the foot economically, a fact Pakistani deterrent strategy counts on.

Aggression at sea would not occur in a vacuum. Internationally, India would risk diplomatic isolation if it were seen as the instigator of a conflict that endangers global maritime commerce. The Arabian Sea and Indian Ocean are busy highways for oil tankers and cargo ships heading to many countries. A naval clash could draw in outside powers eager to protect their economic interests and prevent escalation.

We saw in May 2025 that the United States intervened actively to mediate and halt the fighting. Next time, the intervention might be swifter and more coercive, potentially curtailing India&rsquo;s freedom of action. Within the region, an Indian attempt to blockade Pakistan or land a crippling blow could backfire by rallying Pakistan&rsquo;s allies and sympathizers.

China, for instance, has a deep stake in Pakistan&rsquo;s Gwadar port and overall stability; while Beijing would likely stay out of direct combat, it could apply pressure behind the scenes (or provide Pakistan intelligence and hardware support) to ensure India does not succeed. Politically at home, Indian leaders would face huge risks as well. If their gambit failed to achieve a quick win, or worse, led to heavy Indian casualties or a nuclear scare, the domestic backlash would be fierce.

The Indian public and opposition would question the judgment that led to a needless war. In Pakistan, by contrast, successfully repelling Indian naval aggression (even at great cost) would vindicate the military&rsquo;s stance and could unite the nation in defiance. Thus, India could find itself isolated and chastened, rather than triumphant, if it underestimates Pakistan&rsquo;s deterrent. An attempted knockout punch at sea is exactly the kind of misstep that could spiral out of control, a point not lost on sober minds in New Delhi or Islamabad.

Stability through quiet strength

In the high-stakes rivalry between India and Pakistan, much attention goes to armies and air forces, while the navies often operate in the shadows. Yet, as the post-Sindoor sabre-rattling showed, the maritime domain is emerging as a new front for signaling and potential conflict. Pakistan&rsquo;s Navy may not grab headlines or flamboyantly brandish its weapons, but it remains the silent guardian of Pakistan&rsquo;s security, practicing a quiet deterrence that is no less effective for its subtlety.

By quietly enhancing its capabilities, from indigenous missiles to stealthy submarines, the Pakistan Navy has ensured that India cannot take the Arabian Sea for granted. Every Indian warship commander must think twice, knowing an unseen adversary may be lying in wait.

Every Indian strategist must calculate that a naval strike on Pakistan carries a serious risk of uncontrollable escalation. In this way, the Pakistan Navy, though smaller and less publicized, punches above its weight to keep the strategic balance. It neutralizes India&rsquo;s maritime signaling not through bluster, but through credible readiness and demonstrated will.

Pakistan Navy&rsquo;s professionalism and preparedness were on display in May 2025, when it quietly countered India&rsquo;s pressure without fanfare, no Indian ship dared cross Pakistan&rsquo;s maritime red lines during the crisis. This positive performance deserves recognition.

In an era of regional naval build- ups, Pakistan has shown that security is not about matching an adversary ship-for-ship, but about making any conflict unthinkable. The Navy&rsquo;s evolving conventional and nuclear deterrents serve exactly that purpose. They safeguard Pakistan&rsquo;s shores and sea lanes, and in doing so, protect the nation&rsquo;s economic lifeline and strategic sovereignty.

For India, the message is clear: temper your ambitions of preemptive &ldquo;air+sea&rdquo; offensives. Any future attempt to test Pakistan on the high seas would risk disastrous consequences, from sunken warships and economic calamity to potential nuclear escalation. No amount of boastful rhetoric can obscure the reality that Pakistan&rsquo;s deterrence is robust and ready.

The quiet prowlers beneath the waves and the watchful sentinels on Pakistan&rsquo;s coast ensure that war at sea will harm the instigator as much as the target. Thus, wisdom dictates refraining from lighting a fuse that could set the entire region aflame.

In the end, the Pakistan Navy&rsquo;s silent vigilance contributes to strategic stability by keeping aggressive designs in check. It may operate out of the limelight, but if peace prevails in the Arabian Sea, much credit goes to those dark hulls and diligent crews who secure Pakistan&rsquo;s shores, unseen, but ever prepared.

The quiet deterrence continues.

&nbsp;

Dr. Rabia Akhtar is the Dean Faculty of Social Sciences, University of Lahore. She tweets @Rabs_AA and can be emailed at rabia.akhtar@csspr.uol.edu.pk

All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the author]]>
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			<title>Deadpool &amp; Wolverine: in blue and yellow at last!</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2485298/deadpool-wolverine-in-blue-and-yellow-at-last</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2485298/deadpool-wolverine-in-blue-and-yellow-at-last#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sat, 03 Aug 24 17:59:59 +0500</pubDate>
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				<![CDATA[Zeeshan.Ahmad]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[Life &amp; Style]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
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				<![CDATA[We thought Logan was Hugh Jackman’s swansong as Wolverine. We were wrong. This is it. This is the swansong]]>
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				<![CDATA[Most fans won&rsquo;t know this (especially those that joined the fandom from the films) but the man who many see as the quintessential &lsquo;X-man&rsquo; didn&rsquo;t start as one. Nor did he really have a fleshed out origin when he made his first appearance in 1974, in the final panel of The Incredible Hulk #180.

No, all that was thought up and came in much later, as was &lsquo;Logan&rsquo;, the mononym that became as familiar to fans as the character&rsquo;s codename (and really the only identity up till then) Wolverine.



It all began with the prototype of the now iconic blue and yellow suit, said to be inspired by the University of Michigan American football team (which also goes by the moniker &lsquo;Wolverines&rsquo;). Some black accents, reminiscent of tiger stripes, to evoke something feral about the superhero and set him apart from the clean-cut boy scouts that dominated the pages of American comics back then. A distinctive mask that featured black, pointed fins on the sides, resembling a wolverine&#39;s ears or a bat&#39;s wings (the original mask was rather modest than the &lsquo;classic&rsquo; version with larger fins, which owes its creation to an error by legendary artist Gil Kane). And three metal claws (knives rather) jutting just before the knuckles on each hand, suggesting the character in question would get down and dirty like a knife-wielding street brawler, instead of keeping his bouts clean and honourable.



That really was all there was to the Wolverine blueprint and until he joined the X-Men around a year later, the character remained a blank slate. No one knew how he looked under the mask &ndash; some early concept sketches envisioned him as another teenager like the contemporary version of Spider-Man rather than the grizzly middle-aged Logan we&rsquo;ve all come to love. No one knew where how he got his powers &ndash; one rumour that persists, despite denials by writer Len Wein who originally fleshed out the character, was that the character was once intended to be a &lsquo;mutated wolverine cub&rsquo;.



For much of that first decade, Wolverine existed as Marvel&rsquo;s take on Clint Eastwood&rsquo;s Man with No Name from the celebrated Spaghetti Western Dollars trilogy. And while Logan would ditch it from time to time, or its design and colour would be updated, changed and then restored, when it mattered in the comics, it would be the suit that made the hero.

My reason for recounting this little history lesson is to remind fans why it was so egregious of Fox to not just ditch but make fun of Wolverine&rsquo;s suit (essentially the character&rsquo;s very design) all these years. I&rsquo;ve never been the greatest fan of Hugh Jackman&rsquo;s rendition of the character, but he did as best as he could as Fox fumbled the franchise beyond those first two films, X-Men Origins: Wolverine representing the nadir. That film also gave us the almost criminal screen debut of Deadpool, sealing the mouth shut of the &lsquo;Merc with a Mouth&rsquo;.



The Deadpool films, in their own way, have been an attempt at setting things right. The character&rsquo;s fourth-wall breaking nature has allowed the movies to poke fun at the various Fox missteps. The second even took direct jabs at X-Men Origins: Wolverine, with Deadpool travelling across film universes to eliminate that poorly conceived iteration of his character.

For Hugh Jackman&#39;s Wolverine, Fox had already intended a swansong in the critically acclaimed Logan. The rave reviews it garnered had allowed Jackman to finally bid adieu to the character that made his career on a high-note. Or so it seemed.



After hitting the peak with Avengers: Endgame, the Marvel Cinematic Universe has been on some shaky ground. A climax more than a decade in the making would never be an easy act to follow. But perhaps the biggest challenge it has run into is one that has plagued the comics for decades: continuity in a constantly growing narrative universe is complex to navigate for creators and tedious and exhausting for casual fans to keep track of. It also tends to eliminate possibilities for a lot of interesting storytelling as creators attempt to tie all narrative stands into a single-overarching story. To be fair not everything MCU is bad these days: the Loki and What If? series have been compelling enough. But the bigger moving pieces, such as The Marvels movie and the Secret Invasion Disney+ series, that Marvel Studios intended to build its next &#39;Endgame&#39; off have not inspired any excitement or anticipation.

What has been hotly anticipated ever since Disney acquired Fox, and with it the film rights Marvel had sold, has been the return of the X-Men to their rightful home with the other Marvel superheroes. Many fans and &#39;filmfluencers&#39; had wondered if Disney would be brave enough to put the R-rated Deadpool in its otherwise PG Marvel Cinematic Universe, but from a business standpoint that was always a no-brainer. The Deadpool franchise had given Fox&#39;s superhero outings a second wind, doing some of the studios best business. They had also created genuine fan buzz after several X-Men project either fizzled out both critically and at the box office, or failed to launch (looking at you New Mutants). A third Deadpool was always coming. Inevitable as Thanos would say.

The real draw was enticing Jackman out of retirement one last time to give fans what they had wanted all this time and believed had lost out on: a Deadpool-Wolverine movie. It&#39;s hard to convey how depressing it would have been if the only time we had seen the two together was in that god awful X-Men Origins: Wolverine. Leak an image of Jackman in the classic blue and yellow, and you had gold no matter how good or bad the final product was.



That the movie turned out to be quite entertaining is the cherry on top and no surprise either. The Deadpool property, with how it has been established, is hard to mess up. The self-referential meta humor lets the movies skirt by a lot of incredulous, even nonsensical situations and references, as long as the end result is funny. As expected, Deadpool &amp; Wolverine played fast and loose with a lot of MCU plot devices, but the entertainment gives you no reason to dwell on it. It takes a lot of shots taken at both Fox and Disney, and surprisingly, gives some of Fox&#39;s renditions of Marvel characters their final ride into the sunset. It even resurrects one of those failures to launch I alluded to earlier.

One can take a cynical view, that Deadpool &amp; Wolverine is an out and out corporate cashgrab, and one would be right. However, in my view, this is one of those rare occasions where commercialism isn&#39;t a bad thing. Give the fans what they want!

The movie did lie to me. &quot;How are we going to do this without dishonoring &#39;Logan&#39;s memory?&quot; asks Deadpool right at the beginning. &quot;We&#39;re not.&quot; I disagree that it dishonored anything. This is it. This is the swansong. Jackman as Wolverine, in glorious blue and yellow, as he always should have been. That the suit was included at all could have been pure fan service, and it would still have been alright. Kudos to the writers that it&#39;s not and imbued with some motivation.



So why was it not included the first time around, in the Bryan Singer movies? Why were the multi-coloured X-Men of the comics clad in black leather, as somehow that made more sense? I blame the Matrix. Outside of some exceptions that break new ground and become the stuff of legend, Hollywood has always been and will remain risk averse. Superheroes were silly things only nerds cared about so of course Hollywood had to do the mature thing and dress them like they had a BDSM fetish. Superheroes and cinematic universes are cool now so every franchise needs to be part of one, regardless of whether it makes sense or not.

Until the next innovative Hollywood legend pushes the industry into a different trajectory, there&#39;s no harm in enjoying fan-service done right once in a while.]]>
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			<title>Gujranwala's favourite comfort food</title>
			<link>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2485295/gujranwalas-favourite-comfort-food</link>
			<comments>https://tribune.com.pk/story/2485295/gujranwalas-favourite-comfort-food#comments</comments>
			<pubDate>Sat, 03 Aug 24 17:59:51 +0500</pubDate>
			<dc:creator>
				<![CDATA[Waseem Shabbir Arain]]>
			</dc:creator>
			<category><![CDATA[Life &amp; Style]]></category><category><![CDATA[Pakistan]]></category><category><![CDATA[T-Magazine]]></category><category><![CDATA[Magazine]]></category>
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				<![CDATA[With origins in India, Amritsari Hareesa boasts of a rich history and enduring popularity]]>
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				<![CDATA[With small kebabs, a topping of desi ghee or olive oil, garnished with finely sliced ginger and green chillies, hareesa makes the perfect nutritious, flavourful comfort food for winter and summer. To find this out for myself, I headed to the city&#39;s most famous Amritsari Hareesa outlet. While the dish is known and loved for its rich flavour, comforting texture, and is enjoyed with nan or rice, the name &quot;Amritsari&quot; refers to the city of Amritsar in India, which was once a major center of trade and culture in the region. 

The popular hareesa outlet known as Amritsari Hareesa is located in Guru Nanakpura which is the most famous and largest food market of Gujranwala. When the people of Gujranwala want to eat and enjoy hareesa, they don&rsquo;t think twice before dashing off to this oldest hareesa outlet in the city. Even people from remote areas come to Guru Nanakpura to enjoy Amritsari Hareesa. 



For the past few months, I have been seeing the Amritsari Hareesa outlet doing the rounds on social media, which actually prompted me to finally visit the outlet. Once there, I wondered why I hadn&rsquo;t done this earlier. There is no doubt that Amritsari Hareesa has successfully attracted many food lovers due to its excellent taste and quality.

Although, many new hareesa outlets have been opened up in other parts of the city, yet people prefer Amritsari Hareesa for their family outings on weekends and on festivals as well for its unique and unbeatable taste. 



&quot;I have been running this outlet with my younger brother Siddique Butt for years,&quot; shares Afif Butt, the owner. &quot;We are the first to have introduced Amritsari Hareesa in the city of Gujranwala. Apart from this place, we have no other branch in the city. Our outlet registered in Karachi as Amritsari Hareesa, and it provides security to our business.&quot;

Talking about customer service, Afif says that taking care of customers has always been our priority. &ldquo;We have always tried to maintain the pure taste and quality of our hareesa right from its inception. This is the only reason it has gained fame and popularity across the region. Our prices are also easily affordable for everyone,&quot; he adds. 



The legacy

Before partition, Afif&rsquo;s grandfather Khawaja Ghulam Nabi lived in Amritsar, India, where he used to sell hareesa. &ldquo;However, he could not continue selling hareesa after he migrated to Pakistan,&rdquo; shares Butt. &ldquo;After a few years in Pakistan, he passed away.&rdquo;

To reinvigorate the hareesa legacy once relinquished by Ghulam Nabi in Amritsar, his son Khawaja Arif opened a hareesa shop by the name of Amritsari Hareesa in 1980, near the famous Yousuf Jalebiyanwala in Guru Nanakpura. 

&ldquo;My father introduced Amritsari Hareesa to Gujranwala,&rdquo; says Afif. &ldquo;He ran the outlet in Guru Nanakpura for 15 years and his hareesa became popular across the Gujranwala region.&quot; 



In 1995, Khawaja Arif moved his outlet to Main Grand Trunk Road, near Iqbal High School, where he continued his hareesa business for the next five years. Here too, he successfully acquired a number of new and regular customers. In 2001, he shifted the outlet again to Satellite Town Market in near Ice Tech and sold hareesa there for six years.

&quot;Over the years as Guru Nanakpura Market developed into a popular food market in Gujranwala, in 2006, my father decided to shift the business back to the first location in this market near Munna Ki Nan shop,&rdquo; recounts Afif. &ldquo;From then on, my brother Siddique and I took over the business and let our father relax after his many years of hard work.&rdquo;

At this new location which was actually the birthplace of Amritsari Hareesa, Afif and Siddique rented out two big shops. They worked hard relentlessly for 12 years, making profits and a name. &ldquo;A few years later, we bought out the two shops,&rdquo; explains Afif. &ldquo;Lots of families visit come from far off towns, villages and cities including Lahore, Sialkot, Gujarat, Jhelum, Sheikhupura, Nowshera Wirkan and Kamoki to enjoy our mouth-watering hareesa. For the past couple of years, we have also added lassi to our menu as hareesa is washed down well with naan and lassi.&quot; 



The clientele

Arham has arrived from city Sialkot to buy Amritsari Hareesa for some special guests visiting from Rawalpindi. &ldquo;We want to offer them something special,&rdquo; he says. 

Three friends, Sajid Ali, Adnan Manjh and Muhammad Ahad who were digging into hareesa told me that they had especially come from Qila Deedar Singh to eat Amritsari Hareesa. &quot;I have become addicted to eating hareesa from this shop and I have to come here thrice a month to satiate my craving,&rdquo; says Sajid. &quot; I first came to this Hareesa shop almost three years ago with my friend Sajid,&rdquo; adds Adnan. &ldquo;The taste and quality is so good that you once you have had it, you will return for it again and again.&rdquo; 

Muhammad Ahad says, &quot;My friends have brought me here for the first time,&rdquo; says Muhammed Ahad. &ldquo;I love the purity and taste of this special dish.&quot;



Afif points out that several new hareesa outlets that have mushroomed in the market, are being run or owned by disciples of his father, who taught them how to make hareesa. &ldquo;We have no competition with them,&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;We do not compromise on the quality which keeps our new and old customers connected to us. During festivals and especially during Ramadan, we have a crowd of customers and it becomes difficult for us to handle them all at the same time. With the arrival of winter and the drop in temperature, our shop sees a rush of customers. This year with temperatures staying low up until April in Punjab, people enjoyed hareesa even for breakfast. In summer, the demand is a bit less.&rdquo;

&quot;Many of our customers have been loyal to our product for about thirty years,&rdquo; says Afif. &ldquo;They have come to us since my father&rsquo;s time.&rdquo; 

&quot;I have been coming to Amritsari Hareesa for last 12 years,&rdquo; says Abdullah, an elderly man from Guru Nanakpura. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t eat hareesa from anywhere else because the taste here is original and ingredients used are pure. It I nutritious and restores energy.&rdquo; 

&ldquo;We have been buying hareesa from here since Khawaja Arif opened the shop,&rdquo; says Asghar, an elderly man who lives nearby. &quot;It is a regular part of my diet.&rdquo; 



Take away

To meet the rising demand of their product from outside of the city, the Butt brothers have also launched tin packs of hareesa with a year&rsquo;s expiry which can be delivered across Pakistan. &ldquo;We have also delivered out of the country for some enthusiasts,&rdquo; reveals Afif. 

They also receive bulk orders for hareesa for weddings and mehndi functions. &quot;Several times the military authorities in Islamabad asked us to live cook hareesa on the venue for their programmes,&rdquo; he shares. &ldquo;But we have not been able to do that as yet because it disturbs business at the outlet.&rdquo; 



A part of history and culture

Currently, they have 10 workers at their outlet and most of them are from Kashmir.&rdquo; 

&ldquo;Many people mistake it or compare it with haleem but this is an Arabian dish that dates back to Prophet Muhammad&#39;s (PBUH) time and has gained popularity ever since,&rdquo; says Afif. &ldquo;Historians also believe that hareesa was first introduced in Kashmir during the 14th century and it is associated with the history and culture of Kashmir and Sirinagar remains the centre of hareesa for over two centuries. 



The product

&quot;Hareesa is made with rice, dal chana, dal moong, dal maash, dal masoor, wheat home-made porridge, black pepper, olive oil, desi ghee and various other spices in mutton or desi chicken or beef,&rdquo; explains Siddique. &ldquo;The meat is separated from the bones and cooked in a big pot, mostly on the wood fire for almost the entire night.&rdquo;

&quot;Being nutritious and healthy, people enjoy it in all kinds of weather,&rdquo; adds Afif. &ldquo;The best part is that it is not heavy and you will feel satiated not sluggish throughout the day if you eat it for breakfast.&quot; 



The preparation of hareesa is labour intensive. Mixing pulses, meat and other spices and cooking it over high heat for at least eight hours requires a lot of hard work. &quot;Two degs [cauldrons] or four maunds (37 kg) of hareesa, is cooked every night which is sold out the very next day,&rdquo; says Siddique. &ldquo;It is a legacy that has been passed down from my grandfather to us.&quot;

He laments that the majority of the younger generation prefer unhealthy fast food to our local cuisine which is nutritious and delicious at the same time.&rdquo; 

Even though their family line traces back to Amritsar, the brothers have never visited their ancestral home in Indian Punjab. &ldquo;I knew that my grandfather had a brother in Amritsar but we don&rsquo;t know if he is even alive. After my grandfather passed away, we lost touch with him.&quot;

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Waseem Shabbir Arain is a freelance journalist based in Gujranwala. He can be reached at waseemshabbir78@gmail.com

All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the writer]]>
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