Growing up, I often heard the expression, "Pakistan stands at a crossroads" - a sentiment that remains as relevant today as ever. The need for harmony and justice has never been more pressing. Perhaps this time, the tipping point is in sight, offering us an opportunity to live by the principle of knowing one another across divisions before it's too late. The Quran reminds us: "O humankind! We have made you... into nations and tribes, so that you may get to know one another..." (Q. 49:13). While none of us chose our place or time in Pakistan's geography, we do choose how we use our position and influence.
The events of my life, from my naive childhood to my reflections in twilight years, reveal a recurring pattern: crises born of misrule, selective or absent accountability, and sustained by fabricated narratives.
I still remember the air raid sirens piercing the night during the 1965 war. As a child, I didn't understand what was happening, but I understood fear. My mother struggled to console me, often with the help of neighbours, while my grandmother turned to prayer, fearing for my uncle's life at the front lines. These memories were my earliest lessons in the insecurity of life.
The years that followed only deepened this insecurity. I was yet to be born when Ayub Khan declared Martial Law, subverting the judiciary to legitimise his rule under the infamous Doctrine of Necessity. Later, he denied Fatima Jinnah, our Madar-e-Millat, her electoral victory. This precedent, set in Ayub's time, paved the way for decades of engineered democracy, socio-political-economic alienation of the masses, and indifference to grievances that bred micro-aggressions - issues that haunt Pakistan to this day.
The 1970s brought even greater contradictions. Ayub handed power to Yahya Khan. Mujib's Awami League secured a clear electoral majority but was denied power. Protests erupted, turning into an insurgency in East Pakistan, while West Pakistan celebrated with songs like Jeevay Jeevay Pakistan.
The government blamed Bengalis for the unrest, disregarding their sacrifices in the creation of Pakistan and the injustices they endured. Radio Pakistan spun tales of triumph, but elders turned to the BBC for the truth. Yahya's hedonism and Bhutto's contempt for Mujib's demands only deepened the divide.
The fall of Dhaka in December 1971 was catastrophic: 93,000 soldiers became prisoners of war, and Pakistan suffered a permanent fracture. Elders criticised the egos of Yahya, Bhutto and Mujib, but no meaningful reckoning followed. Bhutto rose from the ashes of a divided nation, promising Islamic socialism but delivering authoritarianism. His infamous remark, Maien nahee yeh kursi mazboot hay (It's not me, but the chair that's strong), became a tragic epitaph after his ouster and execution by Zia-ul-Haq, following a trial the Supreme Court has recently acknowledged as compromised.
As a college student, I witnessed firsthand the clashes between Bhutto's NSF and the IJT, an ideological battleground for political dominance. Zia's ban on student politics silenced this chaos but left a void in leadership development, replaced by dynasties and military influence. His promised 90-day transition to democracy stretched into Islamisation under Martial Law.
What followed was a cycle of alternating governments of PPP and PML-N blaming each other for misrule, Musharraf's coup ending in disgrace, and Imran Khan's rise as a saviour yielding disappointment. Today, former rivals PPP and PML-N govern in a coalition supported by the military that once orchestrated their downfalls.
Our political and military leaders come to power with saviour complexes. The unanswered question remains: How have they left Pakistan so dysfunctional? This is evident in dismal global rankings: corruption (133rd), rule of law (129th), political transformation (99th), governance (122nd) and passport strength (107th). With 84% of people living on less than $6.85 or Rs1,078 per day, the Human Development Index stands at a bleak 116. These statistics mirror a country caught in an unyielding cycle of power preservation, misrule, arbitrary accountability and lost potential.
Our response to grievances has often been suppression rather than solutions, breeding insurgencies and resistance movements. The Baloch revolt, PNA against Bhutto, MRD against Zia, PDM against Imran, ethnic movements like MQM, Jeay Sindh and PTM, and the emergence of militant groups like TTP and BLA remain active. The turmoil in the country continues.
As I reflect on the major events, I wonder: was there no other way? Bhutto hanged; Junejo, Nawaz and Benazir governments sacked; Benazir and Nawaz exiled; Musharraf ventured into Kargil and was then exiled; Altaf was exiled; JM Sayed died as a frustrated founding politician; Bugti was killed; Benazir was assassinated; and now Imran is in jail facing shallow, possibly treasonous charges.
Once again, I witness soldiers and misguided civilians die in conflicts. Though all are strangers to me, their lost lives haunt me. The questions that plagued me during the 1971 war remain: When does patriotism demand questioning authority rather than blind allegiance? Why would the present setup yield a different outcome when predecessors have said and done the same? Will the judiciary take up the electoral fraud case - not for Imran's sake but for the citizens' right to vote?
The sirens of crisis continue to sound, and we must respond with wisdom. My humble appeal is to Punjab and its intelligentsia because providence has placed them in a uniquely advantageous position, dominating the country's institutions: 173 out of 336 legislative seats, 15 of 18 ministers in the executive, 26 of 38 federal bureaucrats, 75% of the military, and 8 of 16 Supreme Court justices. This influence carries a profound responsibility: to lead the nation toward harmony, equity and justice, and to fulfil the vision of Pakistan's founders.
It would be unjust not to acknowledge Punjab's leading sacrifices, especially the precious lives of its sons defending Pakistan's sovereignty. Punjab can lead too in nation's affairs by enabling a Platform for Reforms, starting with a "National Dialogue on Amnesty" to dissolve unrest and foster harmony among all disgruntled parties. It must lead fairness, transparency, protection of citizens' rights, merit-based institutional reforms and inclusive economic policies. The potential for real change rests with Punjab. Pakistan doesn't need dominance from its most powerful province - it needs leadership.
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