Celebrating freedom through zero poverty

By Ahmad Hassan “The convoluted wording of legalisms grew up around the necessity to hide from ourselves the violence we intend toward each other… Elaborate euphemisms may conceal your intent to kill, but behind any use of power over another the ultimate assumption remains: ‘I feed on your energy.’” When Frank Herbert wrote those words in his novel Dune Messiah, he observed that elaborate euphemisms are often used by the state to conceal the raw mechanics of power. In Pakistan, August 5 is observed as Youm-e-Istehsal to condemn the 2019 revocation of Article 370 and its supplementary provision, Article 35A. This act of the Indian government removed Kashmir’s separate constitution, its flag and its control over its own affairs. Last week marked seven years since that day. What began as a dramatic constitutional rupture has now, by design, become quietly normalized. Jammu and Kashmir joined India in 1947 on defined terms. The Maharaja handed over defence, foreign affairs and communications. Everything else stayed with the state. The United Nations later called for a plebiscite. It never happened. Instead, over decades, the protections that were supposed to stand in its place were worn down piece by piece, until August 5, 2019, when the government removed what remained in a single stroke. The method deserves more attention than it usually gets. Article 370 was not directly changed. First, the government reached for Article 367, which was intended to aid in the interpretation of the Constitution, and used it to redefine one phrase: “Constituent Assembly” became “Legislative Assembly.” Kashmir had no sitting assembly at the time, and the state was under President’s Rule. So, the government’s own appointee, the Governor, signed off on the change. India’s Supreme Court had already ruled, in 1959 and again in 1969, that Kashmir’s constitutional status could only be changed after the approval of the Constituent Assembly of Kashmir. When that body no longer existed, no institution had the standing to give that consent on Kashmir’s behalf. New Delhi decided that its own Governor could stand in for the people he had not been elected by. That is not consent. It is a government consenting to itself. The Indian government argued that Kashmiris had lived for decades under an insurgency that killed tens of thousands and emptied the Valley of its Pandit community in 1990. It left the region isolated from the investment and policing coordination. That argument would carry more weight if the method had matched it. What followed the revocation was not the language of integration. It was a total communications blackout, landlines and mobile networks and the internet all cut at once. Independent estimates put the troop presence at 600,000 to 800,000, roughly one soldier for every ten Kashmiris. Even pro-India politicians, former chief ministers among them, were placed under detention. Perhaps a security argument can justify counter-insurgency operations. It cannot by itself justify dissolving a state’s constitutional status, its legislature and its statehood in one move. That too with no elected Kashmiri voice given the chance to object. Jawaharlal Nehru warned Parliament about exactly this shortcut in 1952, while Article 370 was still being drafted. No clause in a constitution, he said, could substitute for the will of the Kashmiri people. Real integration, in his words, comes from the mind and the heart, not from a clause imposed from outside. Actually, there is a longer, quieter project behind the legal manoeuvre. Article 35A once barred outsiders from buying land or settling permanently in Kashmir. Since its removal, more than 3.2 million domicile certificates have gone to outsiders, most of them non-Kashmiri Hindus. This alarming thing is that wherever a disputed territory’s demographics are reshaped before its people are asked what they want, the eventual vote, if one ever comes, no longer reflects the population whose future was originally in question. None of this required an invading army, or an open declaration of intent. It required a redefined word, a signature from an appointee, and a great deal of time. The convoluted legalisms that Herbert warned about have become policy in Kashmir: development, integration, correction. Each euphemism has quietly done the work that an honest admission of purpose could never have achieved. Seven years on, Kashmir’s assembly has voted decisively against the BJP that carried out the revocation, and passed its own resolution demanding the restoration of its special status. New Delhi can easily ignore them. Yet, that very power to ignore an elected legislature proves, beyond any doubt, that the “consent” obtained seven years ago was always a legal fiction

The preceding part of this series examined a question ordinarily left outside discussions on riba: who should create money? It argued that commercial-bank money creation is not, by itself, riba, but that the power to create purchasing power through credit is a matter of public importance requiring transparency, restraint and accountability. One possible reform is to separate transaction money, fully backed by sovereign money, from funds deliberately committed for investment. That proposition leads to an even more fundamental question. What exactly is a bank deposit? The answer appears obvious only because modern banking has merged several economically different relationships into the same institution. A person places salary in a current account because it must be available tomorrow morning. Another person places accumulated savings with a bank hoping to earn a return over five years. A business maintains money for payroll and suppliers. An investor deliberately commits capital to a project knowing that commercial gain is accompanied by the possibility of loss. Calling all these balances “deposits” conceals distinctions that become crucial in a financial order seeking to eliminate riba. There is a basic difference between money and investment. Money held for payment performs the functions of medium of exchange and store of nominal value. Its owner expects Rs.100 deposited today to remain Rs.100 tomorrow and to be transferable on demand. Investment capital performs another function. It is consciously placed in productive activity in expectation of gain and consequently bears the possibility of commercial loss. One cannot logically demand both absolute safety and entrepreneurial return from the same contractual relationship unless somebody else is made to carry the risk. Islamic jurisprudence recognised these distinctions long before modern banking. Funds entrusted purely for safekeeping can constitute amanah. A trustee does not own them and is not ordinarily liable for loss occurring without negligence or misconduct. Where fungible money is transferred to another person with authority to use it and an obligation to return its equivalent, the relationship acquires the character of qard, or loan. State Bank of Pakistan’s own glossary reflects precisely this reasoning. It describes an amanah as property held in trust and states that current accounts may initially be regarded as trust deposits. Once a bank obtains authority to use current-account funds in its business, however, the relationship becomes a loan because the bank must repay the full amount. This point deserves much greater attention. If a bank accepts Rs.100,000 from a customer, is free to use that money for its own financing operations and remains legally bound to repay Rs.100,000 whenever demanded, the customer is not bearing an investment risk. Whatever terminology appears on the account-opening form, economically the bank has received financing from the customer. No difficulty necessarily arises if the customer receives nothing beyond repayment of the amount advanced. The difficulty arises when banking system treats this repayable-at-par money simultaneously as the raw material from which additional financing and monetary claims can be generated. Part II suggested one possible solution: transaction accounts should be treated entirely differently. A current account used for wages, household expenditure, business payments and ordinary transfers should represent protected transaction money. If such balances are fully backed by sovereign money or central-bank reserves, they need not be exposed to the bank’s commercial financing decisions. The account holder would possess money, not an investment claim upon the success of a bank. The bank would provide custody, payments, transfers, cards, digital access and settlement services. It could legitimately charge transparent fees for those services. What it would not receive is free investment capital merely because citizens require access to a payment system. The consequences are significant. Fully backed transaction accounts would remain available on demand and at par. They would not earn an investment return because their owners have assumed no investment risk. Nor would their repayment depend upon the quality of the bank’s commercial portfolio. This is not merely a theological distinction. Modern central banking itself recognises the peculiar character of bank deposits. The Bank of England recently described commercial-bank deposits as liabilities used as money, expected to be redeemable at par on demand and relied upon as a safe store of value. It contrasted them with investment products whose values fluctuate and whose losses are borne by investors. A riba-free financial system should take that distinction seriously. The second category would consist of genuine investment accounts. Here the relationship is entirely different. A customer does not merely park money awaiting payment instructions. He consciously makes capital available for investment and accepts that lawful profit cannot be separated completely from commercial risk. Mudarabah provides one classical framework. One party supplies capital and the other enterprise and expertise. Profit is divided according to an agreed ratio; financial loss, in the absence of negligence or breach by the manager, falls upon the provider of capital. SBP itself explains Islamic investment deposits on this basis: the depositor acts as rabb-ul-maal and the bank as mudarib. Restricted mudarabah allows the investor to specify where the funds may be deployed; unrestricted mudarabah gives the bank wider investment authority. The principle is straightforward. If the depositor wants profit because capital is being employed commercially, the depositor must understand what capital is doing and what risk attaches to it. This is where present banking practice requires closer examination. Islamic banks commonly pool deposits, calculate weighted-average yields and distribute profits under elaborate regulatory rules. SBP presently prescribes profit-distribution arrangements for savings depositors, including minimum distribution requirements linked to the weighted-average gross yield of the institution. It also permits additional hiba in specified circumstances. These measures protect customers against inequitable allocation of profits by banks. Their consumer-protection purpose is understandable. At the same time, an increasingly managed and smoothed return can create in the depositor’s mind an expectation remarkably similar to a conventional savings rate. The crucial question is not whether the return happens to fluctuate by a few basis points. It is whether the depositor actually bears the economic character of an investor. An investment account should identify the pool in

Pakistan has just taken on a new kind of commitment, and it has caught people’s attention in a way that ordinary diplomatic announcements rarely do. Pakistan’s ties with Saudi Arabia go back decades, and its defence relationship with Türkiye has grown steadily closer in recent years, so cooperation between the three is not surprising on its own. What is new is the nature of the commitment: an attack on any one of the three countries is now to be treated as an attack on all three.   This is not really about whether Pakistan should be working with Saudi Arabia and Türkiye. It is about whether Islamabad has entered this arrangement with a clear enough sense of what it wants from it, and what obligations it may quietly be creating for the future.   It also helps to get the timeline right. This is not Pakistan’s first mutual-defence commitment with Saudi Arabia. Back in September 2025, the two countries had already signed a Strategic Mutual Defense Agreement, treating aggression against either as aggression against both. What is new in 2026 is the attempt to bring Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Türkiye together inside one shared framework. Seen that way, this is less a first step and more a new layer added to a relationship that was already forming. An Alliance at a Complicated Moment The agreement comes at a difficult time. Pakistan sits right next to Iran and has a tense relationship with India, while both Saudi Arabia and Türkiye maintain strong economic ties with New Delhi. At the same time, Islamabad has to keep managing working relationships with Iran, China, the United States and its Gulf partners. Any defence commitment, then, has to be understood against several relationships that do not always move in the same direction.   Pakistan is also not entering this alliance from a position of comfort. The country is dealing with economic, security and political pressures all at once, along with instability on its Afghan border and a delicate Iran border to manage. That is a lot to balance already, which is exactly why the practical details of this new commitment matter more than the ceremony around its announcement. What Has Pakistan Actually Committed To? The basic idea is simple: an attack on one member is treated as an attack on all. But what does that actually mean in practice? What would genuinely trigger the commitment, and what military support would Pakistan be expected to give—or receive? And what happens if the three countries find themselves with different interests in the same crisis?   Pakistan’s own Foreign Ministry offered some sense of this in July 2026, saying that agreements of this kind mostly involve peacetime military cooperation, and that in an actual war, how far the commitment would go still needs to be worked out. If anything, that statement makes the case for more clarity, not less.   That uncertainty matters most in two situations close to home. If Pakistan faced another serious confrontation with India, would Saudi Arabia and Türkiye offer real support, given their own important ties to New Delhi? And if tensions with Iran escalated, would Pakistan be expected to take a position that could strain its relationship with its neighbour? Even the growing water dispute with India, one of Pakistan’s most basic security concerns, has not been publicly linked to any shared plan among the three partners. These questions remain open.   There is also a quieter concern worth sitting with. Saudi Arabia brings financial strength to the table, Türkiye brings a growing defence industry, and Pakistan brings manpower, real operational experience and nuclear deterrence. If these strengths are genuinely shared, all three countries could benefit. But if the load falls unevenly, with Pakistan carrying most of the manpower while its own position in a future India crisis stays unclear, the costs could end up outweighing the gains.   History offers a useful reminder here. In his 1983 book Can Pakistan Survive? The Death of a State, Tariq Ali examined Pakistan’s political system, its foreign policy, and the powerful role the military has long played within the state. The circumstances today are very different, but his broader question still feels relevant: can Pakistan turn its usefulness to other powers into lasting strength of its own?   Something else stood out alongside the agreement itself: the mood surrounding it. Governments naturally welcome diplomatic wins, but a defence pact carrying possible wartime obligations is a different kind of agreement than a trade deal. With so many practical details still unclear, the celebratory tone raises a fair question: is this a carefully thought-through long-term strategy, or mostly the excitement of the moment? Commitments this serious deserve a clear explanation before they deserve applause.   Pakistan must also make sure its growing ties with Saudi Arabia and Türkiye stay compatible with its long-standing relationship with China, and with the working relations it still needs with Iran and the United States. Strategic Relevance Is Not Strategic Autonomy Pakistan is becoming more important to other countries. Its military strength, its geography, its nuclear deterrence, and its relationships across very different global camps all give Islamabad real value in the eyes of others. But being useful to other countries is not the same as having a clear strategy of your own.   Strategic autonomy simply means that Pakistan knows what it wants and makes sure its partnerships actually serve that. It means asking not only what Saudi Arabia, Türkiye, China or the United States want from Pakistan, but what Pakistan wants from each of them in return. A country can be militarily valuable, geographically important and courted by several powers, and still have no defined national strategy behind it. That difference sits at the heart of this entire discussion.   Washington’s fairly quiet response also deserves attention. There is no evidence that the United States is deliberately setting a trap for Pakistan. But Islamabad should still think carefully about whether a closer Saudi-Pakistani security relationship could, over time,

The subject idea of “Road To The East” is conceived by me by a textbook when the store Marco polo was described a story with a title of road to the east. The fascination of culture is everywhere especially, within the walled city of Kashi which is located comparatively on a high altitude like a natural fort. As this area from central east was under the invasion of different ethnic communities in the past. I got a chance to walk through the downtown streets which are relatively wider than the downtown streets of Lahore. The construction of the houses is also showing its beauty and culture with their traditions. Now the walled city have totally been preserved by the Chinese government and as I mentioned the tourism have become one of the most important growing industry in the region. The most famous place historically in this region is called Eig Gah. That is this famous mosque was built during the fifteenth century with the capacity of 20,000 people, can offer a prayer within the, inside of compound. While there is a huge yard outside of this compound which is the center of an attraction for all the tourists. Vice President Pakistan-China Joint Chamber There was a camel ride for the tourist attraction and these camels are special, only found in the Gobie desert, with two humps. These kind of camels are also an iconic symbol of China same as panda. It was also arranged a horse ride for the tourist who love to have a picture by riding at the back of the horse. At one time, in this area, the horses were used to have mainly without saddles. The local people are very fond of music, almost every coffee house have the people to play the traditional music, as their tradition music is with the history of hundreds of years. Duff is one of a very important part of their music playing with one instrument called Algoza. Always with the musicians, there is a singer playing the ancient music even though I did not understand the meaning but I got to know that this was mainly related with the stories of their local warriors. The conventional tea houses normally have their dance performance showing heir culture and dance skill. That all is very amazing. I love to watch that performance in different tea shops. Now, the culture have expended in different restaurants where not only girls but also men perform their traditional dance. I hope we can be able to arrange a cultural linkage between the cities of Lahore and Kashgar. All that modern restaurants are very beautiful, a clean and rich with their construction style. The waiters always dressed up like a female servant serving in the royale courts. Most of them are very beautiful to pass an impression of a royale age. Food of Kashgar (Kashi) is very traditional and tasty. The local people are really lamb lovers. You can find halal food in every corner of Kashi. Where you never need to ask the food quality is halal or not. Despite that, I have experienced the most lamb served in all over China is mostly done by the Muslims. The horse meat is one of the traditional delicacy of this region. But normally in our society we refrain to eat it. Camel milk is served as a soveigner to all the visitors. It was my first time to experience the camel milk. Most of the Xinjiang due the weather is dry and the rainfall is very limited. Despite of this all, Xinjiang is very rich for its fruit production in recent years. Chinese government have paid a lot of attention to improve the agriculture and food industry. This have helped a lot for the locals to improve their life standard. The government have paid a special attention to develop an agricultural farming industry in this region.   Walnut once it was used to exported from Pakistan to China but the border trade now have become an iconic product of Yecheng, is normally called as the capital of walnuts. They have also developed a technology to cultivate pomegranate in a sandy surface. I really hope under the BRI agriculture, is one of the major subject in Pakistan. Can we be able to get an experience from China that how they converted their barren lands into green fields. This is my proposal to the green initiative Pakistan, is that they are willing to improve their yield capability by the technology that have already been successful in the similar environment. Pakistan with its huge barren land along with the Gilgit city which can be experienced by using the technology already existing in this region. Mines and minerals is one of biggest subject that we need to pay attention. Till today, we are not been able to address our natural resources in to a successive model. I have observed to Pakistan side is full of natural resources with mines and minerals while the other sider of the border have already established the biggest units of processing. My advice to our provincial government of Gilgit Baltistan that why they don’t take an opportunity as China is already a friendly country with Pakistan, with a will of the transfer of technology. That means this can change the entire financial position of this region. We feel there is a lack with the technology of preservation of food and fruits. GB as a basket of the fruits, is not able to perform its strength where there are a lot of chances to earn a technology or going for a joint venture to improve the life standard of locals.

The world’s largest democracy appears to be at a defining moment in its history, where fundamental questions are once again being raised about the future of the state, politics, constitutionalism, the judiciary, the media, and the country’s broader social order. Consecutive electoral victories by Prime Minister Narendra Modi and the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) have elevated the ideology commonly known as Hindutva, often associated with Hindu majoritarian politics, to the centre of India’s political discourse. Its proponents describe it as an effort to reclaim India’s ancient civilizational identity and cultural heritage. Critics, however, argue that the notion of a single, unified ancient Indian civilization oversimplifies the subcontinent’s historical evolution. For centuries, the Indian subcontinent has been shaped by a mosaic of religions, kingdoms, languages, ethnic communities, commercial networks, and cultural exchanges. Rather than reflecting a single, monolithic civilization, its history reveals a continuously evolving and pluralistic civilizational stream. In today’s interconnected digital age, many historians and political commentators argue that reconstructing such a singular historical identity is neither historically accurate nor socially attainable. They contend that the project has placed India’s constitutional secularism, communal harmony, and federal balance under unprecedented strain. Since assuming office in 2014, the Modi government has introduced a series of policies that have generated intense political debate both within India and internationally. The abrogation of Article 370, which revoked the special constitutional status of Jammu and Kashmir, the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA), discussions surrounding a Uniform Civil Code, legislation targeting religious conversions, incidents of mob violence associated with cow protection, and the use of “bulldozer politics” in several states have all contributed to deep political polarization. According to many political observers, Hindutva has evolved beyond an ideological movement into a powerful influence over electoral politics, state institutions, public discourse, and sections of the media. Critics argue that Muslims, Sikhs, Christians, Dalits, and, at times, even Hindus expressing dissent have experienced growing political and social pressures. The government and its supporters reject these allegations, maintaining that the rule of law applies equally to all citizens and that such criticisms are politically motivated. Debate has also intensified over the independence of India’s judiciary, Police, investigative agencies, and media institutions. Former judges, retired civil servants, journalists, and civil society representatives have, on various occasions, expressed concerns regarding institutional autonomy. The government, however, insists that India’s constitutional institutions continue to function independently and effectively. The role of the media has emerged as another defining feature of this political transformation. Critics contend that sections of mainstream television increasingly amplify the government’s narrative while providing limited space for dissenting voices. Independent journalists and digital media platforms have similarly argued that the space for critical journalism has narrowed. Government representatives, on the other hand, maintain that India’s media landscape remains diverse, vibrant, and free. Electoral politics constitutes another important dimension of this debate. The BJP’s sustained electoral success is widely attributed to its highly organized party structure, the extensive grassroots network of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), sophisticated campaign strategies, an effective digital presence, and Prime Minister Modi’s personal popularity. Opposition parties, particularly the Indian National Congress, have repeatedly raised concerns regarding campaign financing, the alleged misuse of state institutions, voter registration practices in certain regions, and unequal political conditions. These competing narratives remain the subject of intense political contestation. Congress leader Rahul Gandhi has sought to counter the BJP’s political narrative through initiatives such as the Bharat Jodo Yatra and the Bharat Jodo Nyay Yatra. His central argument has been that India’s enduring strength lies in its constitutional democracy, religious pluralism, cultural diversity, and linguistic richness rather than in majoritarian politics. According to Gandhi, safeguarding constitutional institutions and preserving social cohesion are essential to India’s democratic future. Recent demonstrations, political mobilizations, and episodes of public unrest across different parts of the country have revived questions about whether India is entering a new phase of political transformation. Should these expressions of public discontent evolve into a broader nationwide movement, some analysts believe they could represent the most significant democratic mobilization since the Emergency imposed in 1975. Whether such a transformation materializes will ultimately depend on public participation, opposition unity, the state’s response, and the resilience of India’s constitutional institutions. Historically, India’s greatest strength has been its extraordinary civilizational diversity, religious pluralism, federal structure, and democratic traditions. If growing political divisions are not addressed through constitutional mechanisms, democratic dialogue, and the rule of law, their consequences may extend beyond India’s borders, affecting regional stability, economic cooperation, and prospects for peace across South Asia. The defining question, therefore, is not simply which political party will win the next election. Rather, it is whether India can preserve the foundational principles of its Constitution, democracy, federalism, religious freedom, the rule of law, and equal citizenship, for future generations. The answer to that question is likely to shape not only India’s political trajectory but also its role on the global stage in the decades ahead.