Defending Pakistan with Prophetic Guidance

By Saqlain Abid Tarrar The 60-day U.S.-Iran understanding expired on August 17 without the breakthrough Washington and Tehran had hoped—or claimed—to seek. The agreement has effectively stalled, the Strait of Hormuz remains at the centre of the confrontation, and both sides continue to blame the other for the diplomatic failure. Iran has now warned that it could shift towards a more offensive posture if diplomacy does not progress. This leaves a disturbing question on the table: is the nuclear option becoming the next neutralisation node in the Iran war? The question gained momentum after former Congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Greene claimed that the use of nuclear weapons had been discussed in Trump administration strategy meetings. Such a claim should be treated cautiously because there is no independent evidence that President Donald Trump has ordered or formally approved a nuclear strike. Nevertheless, the allegation itself demonstrates how far the strategic debate has moved. The White House has maintained that nuclear use is not a proposal on the table. Yet Trump’s own rhetoric has made the situation increasingly difficult to ignore. He has declared that the United States has “total control” of Hormuz and described the idea of making the strategically vital waterway U.S. territory as attractive. The Strait of Hormuz is not merely another battlefield. Around one-fifth of the world’s oil and gas supplies normally pass through this narrow maritime chokepoint. Any prolonged closure therefore creates consequences far beyond Iran and the United States: higher energy prices, disrupted shipping, inflationary pressure and another shock to an already fragile global economy. So, what are the chances of the United States actually using nuclear weapons? At present, they remain extremely low—but low is not the same as impossible. History demonstrates how quickly supposedly unthinkable options can become military realities. The United States became the first country to use nuclear weapons in warfare when it dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August 1945. However, it would be historically inaccurate to argue that those attacks were simply conducted to test plutonium and uranium against the Soviet Union. The motives remain debated, including compelling Japanese surrender and influencing the emerging post-war balance with Moscow. The lesson, nevertheless, is unmistakable: once a state believes that an extraordinary weapon can achieve an extraordinary political objective, the threshold can become dangerously negotiable. That is why today’s situation deserves scrutiny. The Trump administration needs an exit from a war that has become increasingly difficult to convert into a decisive political settlement. The USS Abraham Lincoln has also endured an exceptionally long deployment, reportedly more than 240 days at sea, adding another layer of military and political pressure. But nuclear weapons would not provide a rational solution to that problem. Iran’s nuclear capability is certainly a serious concern. The IAEA reported that Iran had accumulated about 440.9 kilograms of uranium enriched to 60 percent before the 2025 attacks disrupted international verification. That material could theoretically produce significant quantities of weapons-grade material if further enriched, but possession of 60-percent enriched uranium does not mean Iran already possesses nuclear weapons. Iran, meanwhile, has suffered severe economic and infrastructural damage, yet its resistance has not disappeared. Tehran continues to signal that it will not simply surrender under pressure. The danger is therefore that military escalation creates the very nuclear insecurity Washington says it wants to prevent. Russia and China could condemn any nuclear use and mobilise diplomatic opposition. The United Nations could debate emergency resolutions. European governments could strongly object. But none of these actors could physically intercept an American warhead once Washington had made the decision. That makes the most important restraint internal: the political and strategic judgment of the American leadership itself. And there is an even larger regional consequence. If Iran were struck with nuclear weapons, Gulf states could reach a frightening conclusion: conventional alliances may no longer provide sufficient security. Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Türkiye and others could reconsider their long-term strategic options. Nuclear hedging and proliferation could become increasingly attractive. That would transform the Middle East permanently. The irony would be profound. An American nuclear strike intended to prevent Iran from becoming a nuclear power could encourage an entire region to seek nuclear deterrence. Hormuz may eventually be reopened through negotiations, military pressure or a new regional security arrangement. But once the nuclear taboo is broken, restoring it would be far more difficult. The nuclear option should therefore remain the last option—not because it is weak, but because its consequences are stronger than any victory it could deliver. Power can neutralise an opponent. But when power is unleashed without restraint, it can ultimately neutralise the international order itself.

I have stood in places most policymakers only read about in briefing papers. I spent time in Afghanistan during the Ashraf Ghani years, and the whole of 2010 in what was then Ex-FATA — a zone so dangerous that even seasoned aid workers called it the place where devils refuse to go. Later, I worked on rehabilitation efforts in Azad Jammu and Kashmir. None of what I am about to argue is theoretical. It is drawn from villages of EX-FATA I walked through, water I watched women carry for miles on donkeys, and children I saw crossing frozen ground without shoes while, an hour’s drive away, the Afghan elite lived behind walls that looked like fortresses. That contrast is the whole story of why the Taliban won. Over two decades, the Western-backed Afghanistan collapsed not primarily on the battlefield but in the space between Kabul’s donor-funded skyline and the rural provinces that never saw a rupee — or a dollar — of that money trickle down. Billions moved through Kabul. Almost none of it moved past it. Into that vacuum, the Taliban did not need to conquer the countryside. They simply had to show up where the state never had, and offer order where there was only neglect. In 2010, in FATA, I watched the same mechanism recruit teenage boys into suicide bombing — and the driving force was rarely ideology in its purest form. It was poverty, weaponised by men who understood exactly how to turn deprivation into obedience. I say this because Pakistan is now watching its own soldiers and citizens bleed in Balochistan, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, and Azad Jammu and Kashmir, and we keep mistaking the symptom for the disease. In Balochistan, it is poor living conditions and the absence of work that push young men toward the BLA and other militant groups — not some inherited hatred of the state, but the calculation of someone with nothing left to lose. In KPK, mining activity that could employ tens of thousands sits frozen, and extremist preachers walk into that economic silence with a ready-made narrative of grievance, exactly as I watched happen in FATA 16 years ago. In Azad Jammu & Kashmir (AJK), where I subsequently served on the front lines of post-disaster rehabilitation, the work executed under the leadership of General Musharraf and Lieutenant General Nadeem was nothing short of extraordinary. They transformed the region—erecting world-class infrastructure that spanned rural housing, modern hospitals, and state-of-the-art universities. Having witnessed his work firsthand, I can unhesitatingly attest that Lt. Gen. Nadeem exemplified the highest standards of professional integrity and selfless duty in the field. Regrettably, subsequent regimes, particularly the current political regime, failed to capitalize on this monumental achievement. Worse still, political negotiators deliberately suppressed these successes under strict orders to deny General Musharraf the credit he rightly deserved It was neither the foreign conspiracies spun about Modi nor the shadow plays attributed to Netanyahu that brought us to our knees—it was the quiet, deliberate treason of our own. The true architects of our ruin sat comfortably in our own cabinets, presiding over the Ministry of Planning and the Ministry of Petroleum. Let the record be unsealed, and let the ledger of corruption show the reality of our sabotage. While the global solar revolution was gaining unstoppable, undeniable momentum as far back as 2012, our planners turned a blind eye to the sun. Instead, they peddled dirty imported coal and structurally flawed LNG infrastructure, deceitfully masquerading them as national “game-changers.” They were not mistakes; they were choices. They willfully shackled this nation to predatory FSRU contracts, riddled with toxic force majeure loopholes that bled our public treasury dry to enrich foreign syndicates and domestic middlemen. Their actions expose a chilling, unvarnished truth: capital was never the bottleneck. Financial constraints were a myth. The true poverty of this nation was the shameless, treasonous lack of political will to break free from the payout loop and build a sovereign future. According to Pakistan’s own energy regulator, NEPRA, consumers were burdened with roughly Rs1.81 trillion in capacity payments in fiscal year 2024–25 alone — fixed payments to power producers simply for having plants available, regardless of whether they generated a single unit of electricity. That figure made up 61 percent of the country’s entire power purchase cost. On a per-unit basis, Pakistanis paid roughly Rs14.3 for capacity alone, compared to about Rs9.0 for the energy actually consumed. Multiply that pattern across recent years and the country has handed over trillions of rupees to keep idle machinery on standby, while Pakistani manufacturers pay electricity rates nearly double what their competitors pay in India and Vietnam, hollowing out the very industries that could have employed the young men now being recruited by militants instead. Even a third of what has been paid out in capacity charges over the past five years — redirected honestly into youth employment programs in KPK, Balochistan, and AJK — would have done more to end this insurgency than any military operation conducted so far. This is not sentiment. It is arithmetic that any finance ministry could run in an afternoon. And here the accountability question becomes unavoidable. The man who, as federal minister for petroleum and natural resources from 2013 to 2018, championed the LNG import architecture that helped lock Pakistan into the very capacity-payment structure now crushing consumers, later became Prime Minister of Pakistan. He subsequently faced formal NAB proceedings, an indictment, and questions in court over unexplained deposits connected to that period — a matter of public record, still contested by his supporters as political victimization, but investigated nonetheless by the country’s own anti-graft body. I raise this not to relitigate one man’s guilt or innocence in a courtroom I am not sitting in, but to make a structural point: the same energy policy architecture that produced Pakistan’s capacity-payment crisis was built, negotiated, and defended by people who moved seamlessly from ministry to premiership to private life, largely untouched by the consequences their decisions imposed on

By Tahseen Ullah  For millions of Pakistanis, migration is a journey of hope and opportunity. Its success depends not simply on departure, but on informed decisions, relevant skills, ethical recruitment and proper preparation. Labour migration is a continuum—from reliable information and guidance, authentic career planning through skills development, documentation, overseas employment, work-visa processing, registration and Pre departure orientation at Protectorate of Emigrants, worker protection, and return and reintegration. For Pakistan, strengthening every stage of this cycle is essential to making labour mobility safe, regular, skills-oriented and rights-based. A well-managed migration system can protect workers, reduce exploitation and irregular migration, enhance employability, and transform migration from a response to unemployment into a strategic investment in human capital, economic resilience and sustainable national growth. The journey begins with one critical step: making an informed decision about whether, where and how to migrate Planning for Informed Migration: Skills, Choices and Readiness The migration journey begins with access to reliable information and informed decisions about overseas labour markets, occupations, wages, destinations, costs, legal pathways and potential risks. Once the decision to migrate is made, preparation should focus on employability and readiness through relevant technical skills, recognised certifications, language proficiency, digital literacy, financial awareness, and knowledge of employment contracts and workers’ rights. Aligning skills and qualifications with the evolving demands of destination-country labour markets can help prospective migrants pursue safe, regular and sustainable employment opportunities. Recruitment, Work Visa and Pre-Departure: Safe Pathways Recruitment is a critical stage of the migration cycle and a key point of vulnerability. Pakistani workers can access overseas employment through licensed Overseas Employment Promoters, the Overseas Employment Corporation, or direct employment. Verified employers, transparent contracts, fair recruitment costs and accessible grievance mechanisms help prevent fraud and exploitation. The process also includes obtaining the required work visa through the relevant diplomatic mission, completing emigration clearance and registration for protection, and attending Pre-Departure Orientation at the Protectorate of Emigrants (PoE) offices, equipping migrants with essential knowledge of their rights, responsibilities, workplace safety and available support services. Post-Arrival: Protection and Productivity The migration journey continues after arrival. Migrants may face contract violations, wage disputes, unsafe working conditions, language barriers, discrimination or limited access to support. Effective labour protection, employer compliance, consular assistance and accessible referral mechanisms are essential. Well-protected migrants are more likely to remain productive and successfully integrate into the workplace. Return and Sustainable Reintegration: Turning Experience into Opportunity Return marks an important transition in the migration cycle, particularly for workers completing their contracts and returning to Pakistan. A planned return and reintegration strategy can help returnees make productive use of their savings, skills, experience and professional networks. Access to psychosocial, legal, financial and employment support, along with skills recognition, entrepreneurship opportunities and further training, can facilitate sustainable reintegration. With the right support, returnees can turn their overseas experience into productive livelihoods and contribute to local economic development. Challenges and Opportunities Pakistan’s migration system faces persistent challenges, including information gaps, fraudulent recruitment, irregular migration, high recruitment costs, low skills levels, limited recognition of qualifications, inadequate protection and weak reintegration mechanisms. Fragmented coordination across institutions can further reduce the effectiveness of the migration process. At the same time, significant opportunities exist. Pakistan’s young population, expanding skills base and growing international demand for workers in healthcare, construction, engineering, IT, caregiving, manufacturing and green sectors provide a strong foundation for expanding regular labour mobility. The opportunity is to move from a labour-export model to a human-capital and talent-mobility model—through demand-driven skills development, international certification, language training, ethical recruitment, stronger bilateral labour mobility agreements and effective protection across the migration cycle. The Way Forward Pakistan’s National Emigration and Welfare Policy 2026 provide a framework for managing migration through a whole-of-cycle approach, covering safe and regular migration, skills development, worker protection, welfare, and return and reintegration. Its success will depend on effective implementation through clear short-, medium- and long-term strategies, strong institutional coordination and measurable outcomes. Relevant organisations, including Migrant Resource Centres, can complement these efforts through awareness-raising, guidance and information on legal pathways, referrals, Pre departure orientation, reintegration of returnees to helping migrants make informed decisions and avoid fraud, exploitation and irregular migration. Going forward, the priority should be to translate policy commitments into practical outcomes for migrants and their families. This requires sustained institutional coordination, responsive services and a system that remains connected to changing labour-market needs and the realities faced by workers throughout the migration journey. If managed effectively, migration can go beyond providing overseas employment and remittances to become a pathway for skills transfer, productive return and improved economic opportunities—contributing to a more resilient and prosperous Pakistan. Tahseen Ullah is a development and migration sector practitioner specializing in labour mobility, migration governance, education and child protection. He can be reached at tahseenanthro@gmail.com  LinkedIn: Tahseen Ullah

By Dr. Shahzad Ali Gill There are two numbers Pakistan’s policymakers should learn to say in the same breath. The first is USD 100 billion, which the Ministry of Maritime Affairs (MoMA) believes the blue economy could be worth every year if the country’s coastline, fisheries, shipping lanes and offshore basins were properly developed. The second is USD 5.8 bn, what a single badly handled investment agreement, in a mining project nowhere near the sea, once cost the national exchequer in an international arbitration award. Until we learn to think about these two numbers together, the first will remain a slogan and the second will remain a warning we keep failing to heed. Pakistan’s maritime endowment is not in question. The country has a coastline of 1,001 kilometres along Sindh and Balochistan, and an Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ) of 240,000 square kilometres, expanded by a further 50,000 square kilometres continental shelf claim that the United Nations approved back in 2015. And yet, by the MoMA’s own reckoning, the blue economy, shipping, fisheries, offshore energy, coastal tourism and the activity that clusters around them contribute barely 0.4 per cent to Gross Domestic Product (GDP), or about USD 1bn a year. The same ministry has set its sights on USD 100 bn annually through “Maritime@100”, a roadmap to reach that target by 2047, at a time when the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) projects the global ocean economy will exceed USD 3 trillion by 2030. According to the 2026 report of UN Trade and Development (UNCTAD), the ocean trade has already reached USD 2.5 tn in 2025. The gap between what Pakistan has and what it is leaving on the table is, by any measure, enormous. Closing that gap will not happen through speeches. It will happen, almost entirely, through two unglamorous legal instruments that include concession agreements and implementation agreements. A concession agreement grants a private party the right to finance, build, and operate a public asset – a port, most often – for a fixed term in exchange for tariffs or a share of revenue, with the asset reverting to the state once the term ends, a model commonly called build-operate-transfer or build-own-operate-transfer (BOT/BOOT). An implementation agreement works differently. It is a direct undertaking between the government and a project company, sitting alongside a commercial contract such as a power purchase agreement (PPA), through which the state offers sovereign guarantees, regulatory consents and tax assurances without handing over rights to any public asset. Every deep-sea port, LNG terminal, and offshore drilling concession Pakistan signs over the next two decades will be built on one or the other. That is precisely why getting their terms right matters the most. What Gwadar already taught us We do not need to imagine how this plays out; we have Gwadar. The original Gwadar Port Concession Agreement, signed in 2007 between the Gwadar Port Authority (GPA) and a foreign operator, Singapore Port Authority (SPA), and later transferred to the China Overseas Ports Holding Company (COPHC) in 2013, carried a 20-year corporate tax exemption and a government revenue share of 9% of port income plus 15% from the adjoining Special Economic Zone (SEZ). That should have been the ceiling. Instead, between 2015 and 2020, the Economic Coordination Committee (ECC) of the cabinet extended the income tax holiday to 23 years, widened it to cover contractors and sub-contractors as well, and granted the 923-hectare Gwadar Free Zone a land lease running up to 99 years. Each renegotiation made the deal more generous to the investor, never less. That is the pattern to watch for since the concessions in Pakistan rarely tighten once signed. They only ever loosen. This should trouble us more than it does, because Article 77 of the Constitution reserves the power to levy federal taxes exclusively for Parliament. Yet most of these concession-era tax holidays and customs exemptions are not legislated at all; they arrive through Statutory Regulatory Orders (SROs) and amendments to existing tax schedules, executive instruments that nonetheless bind the state for 20 to 40 years at a stretch. And Gwadar is not the exception; it is the template. The number of special economic zones (SEZs) has surged from seven to 44, under the second phase of the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC), carrying broadly similar concession packages. Every one of them represents a slice of fiscal sovereignty quietly signed away by the executive, on terms that no future Parliament will find easy to unwind. The warning we already received If Gwadar shows how concessions deepen, Reko Diq shows what happens when they collapse, and although it is a mining dispute, not a maritime one, the lesson is structural, not sectoral. After Balochistan denied a mining lease to the Tethyan Copper Company (TCC) in 2011 and the Supreme Court of Pakistan voided the underlying exploration agreement in 2013, the International Centre for Settlement of Investment Disputes (ICSID) ruled against Pakistan in 2019 under the Pakistan-Australia Bilateral Investment Treaty (BIT), awarding damages of roughly USD 5.8 bn, one of the largest sums in the history of ICSID. A separate dispute brought by the Turkish power producer Karkey under the Pakistan-Turkey BIT had already cost the country USD 760 million the year before. Both were eventually settled out of court. Reko Diq in 2022, with Barrick Gold taking a 50 per cent stake alongside federal state-owned enterprises (SOEs) and the Balochistan government, each holding 25%, but the exposure that produced those numbers in the first place has not gone away. Every offshore exploration block, port concession, and LNG agreement Pakistan signs carries almost the same treaty protections and the same risk of ending up before the same arbitration tribunals. The other half of the bargain There is a second risk that rarely gets discussed alongside the first. The Foreign Exchange Manual issued by the State Bank of Pakistan (SBP) under the Foreign Exchange Regulation Act (FERA), 1947, governs how the profits, dividends, and disinvestment proceeds promised under these agreements can actually leave the country.

Pakistan laid the foundation for a NATO-style alliance among Muslim nations as Pakistan Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif signed the Mecca Joint Defence Agreement on August 7, 2026. The agreement represents a powerful recognition of Pakistan’s growing strategic importance.   The other two signatories included Saudi Crown Prince and Prime Minister Mohammad bin Salman, and Türkiye’s President Recep Tayyip Erdogan, who, along with Sharif, gathered at Al-Safa Palace in Mecca. In a joint statement, these countries announced that the agreement is “guided by the longstanding historical ties among the three states, based on the enduring bonds of brotherhood and Islamic solidarity that unite them, and building upon their shared strategic interests and longstanding defence cooperation.” The agreement asserts a commitment to treat an armed attack against any one of the three countries as an attack against all three.   The historic trilateral defence agreement was held at the Mecca Al-Mukarramah Summit for Joint Defence. It was also attended by Pakistan’s Chief of Defence Forces (CDF) and Chief of the Army Staff Field Marshal Syed Asim Munir, Defence Minister Khawaja Asif, and Deputy PM and Foreign Minister Ishaq Dar. The foreign and defence ministers of Turkiye and Saudi Arabia were also in attendance. While the Turkish Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan described the agreement’s terms as technically comparable to NATO’s Article 5, it is pertinent to note that the pact is not equivalent to NATO. Its precise operational mechanisms and institutional framework are yet to be developed. Both Pakistan and Turkish officials have, however, reinforced that the agreement is not directed against any particular country. It is also not designed to replace any existing alliance or strategic relationship, and this particularly holds for Türkiye, which is already a member of NATO. That said, the Mecca agreement is merely a defensive arrangement. It is crucial to make this distinction because these countries are not preparing for war. Instead, they are attempting to make collective security more credible. Simply put, the goal is to protect each other from outside threats. This is where Pakistan serves as the main pillar of the arrangement. Pakistan has earned its seat at the table owing to the evolving strategic position under Sharif and Munir. Throughout his tenure, Sharif has strengthened Pakistan’s diplomatic relationships not only with Saudi Arabia and Türkiye, but also with other regional powers. Munir, at the same time, oversaw Pakistan’s most significant military conflict in recent years, prompting the country’s expanding role in regional security diplomacy. Together, they bring credible diplomacy and military strength. Pakistan did not emerge as a catalyst for the agreement overnight. The foundations of the Mecca agreement were laid by Sharif and Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman in Riyadh roughly a year earlier. On September 17, 2025, they signed the Strategic Mutual Defence Agreement between Pakistan and Saudi Arabia. The agreement declared that aggression against either country would be considered aggression against both. Building upon a nearly eight-decade-long relationship, the two countries committed to strengthening the defence alliance and mutual deterrence. That pact was a crucial achievement for Sharif’s government. Pakistan and Saudi Arabia have often described their relationship as strategic and deeply rooted in shared interests. Although Pakistan’s military personnel have trained and worked alongside their Saudi counterparts for decades, Sharif’s diplomacy has transformed the relationship into a more structured partnership covering defence, investment, politics, and regional diplomacy. The September agreement essentially laid the foundation for the trilateral defence framework, now strengthening Pakistan-Saudi longstanding ties by bringing Türkiye into the alliance. Sharif does not treat Pakistan’s relationships as isolated bilateral partnerships. He refuses to choose a single ally and maintains strong ties with multiple powers. Be it Saudi Arabia, Türkiye, China, Iran, or the US, each serves different strategic interests for Pakistan. This gives Islamabad greater flexibility and independence in its foreign policy, without becoming overly dependent on any single country. The flexibility paid off in 2026 when the Iran crisis forced Pakistan into one of the most challenging diplomatic balancing acts. Pakistan is Iran’s neighbour, but it also has ties with Saudi Arabia and Türkiye. Iran shares a long border with Pakistan and longstanding economic, political, and cultural ties. A regional war involving Iran thus constituted a direct threat to Pakistan. Islamabad could have chosen to shelter behind its borders and wait for the crisis to pass; however, it chose to influence its trajectory. Sharif spoke directly with regional leaders, whereas Munir directed the security framework of the mediation initiative. On April 9, the Prime Minister’s Office stated Sharif and Munir reviewed Pakistan’s peace efforts and expressed satisfaction with the positive de-escalation achieved at that stage. The two also reiterated Pakistan’s commitment to support the parties in securing a negotiated settlement. On April 25, Sharif discussed the regional crisis and Pakistan’s diplomatic efforts with Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian. Prime Minister’s Office later reported that Pezeshkian extended his gratitude to Sharif, Munir, and Deputy Minister Ishaq Dar for their pivotal roles in fostering peace. A month later, the Iranian President once more reiterated his appreciation for Sharif and Munir for their efforts to bring peace to the region. This was a turning point for Sharif. He shifted Pakistan’s foreign policy from simply reacting to regional crises to actively steering their outcomes. As Sharif drew the diplomatic map, Munir gave it a military backbone. The evolution became especially evident in May 2025. The clashes between Pakistan and India transpired as the most serious direct military crisis between the two nations in decades. Following the April 22 Pahalgam attack that left 26 dead, India launched airstrikes across Pakistan and Pakistan-administered Kashmir. Pakistan retaliated with Operation Bynyan-ul-Marsoos, which led to both sides agreeing to a ceasefire on May 10. It became a defining moment for Munir. Pakistan demonstrated the potential of its armed forces to conduct sophisticated operations under extreme pressure. It also proved that its military apparatus could impose high costs on a much larger military. That is the cornerstone of credible deterrence for Islamabad. As for Munir, the Pakistan-India conflict redefined

In days of yore, the family stood as the unshakeable foundation of life, its fabric woven with threads of reverence, tenderness, and mutual reliance. The presence of elders within the home was regarded as a divine blessing, their wrinkled brows and measured words carrying the distilled wisdom of decades. They had seen seasons of plenty and seasons of want; their counsel was never hasty, but rooted in experience both sweet and bitter. Matters great and small—marriages, disputes, harvests, or the education of the young—were laid before the family circle. Voices rose and fell in earnest consultation, differences were aired with respect, and decisions emerged strengthened by collective thought. Sharing every joy doubled its brightness; confiding every sorrow lightened its burden. Such openness was not mere habit but a sacred trust, binding hearts as firmly as blood itself. Festivals like Eid shone as luminous expressions of this unity. Homes were cleansed with care, lamps lit, and the air filled with the aroma of special dishes prepared by loving hands. Families gathered in their finest attire, exchanging embraces that spoke louder than any words. Youngsters sought the elders’ blessings, pressing foreheads to hands worn by labour and prayer. Visiting relatives was no burdensome custom but a joyful obligation. One would travel dusty paths or crowded streets to enquire after an ailing uncle, to carry sweets to a widowed aunt, or to offer a strong shoulder in times of grief. To be useful in one another’s sorrows and celebrations was considered not charity but a natural duty, the very pulse of kinship. Then the world shifted. Modernity, with its ceaseless demands and glittering innovations, began to loosen these ancient ties. Technology arrived as a herald of progress, and the internet promised to shrink distances, allowing voices to reach across oceans in an instant. Yet in bridging the far, it often widened the gulf between those who dwelt beneath the same roof. The thoughtful purchase of Eid cards, selected with a discerning eye and inscribed with heartfelt sentiments penned in one’s own hand, has given way to instant messages generated by artificial intelligence—polished, abundant, yet strangely hollow. What once touched the soul now risks becoming mechanical routine. Worse still, we have turned our gaze outward, forgetting the sorrows and joys nearest to us. We scroll endlessly through the lives of strangers, offering likes and comments to people whose names we barely know, while the quiet struggles of our own parents or the silent longings of our children pass unnoticed. We share stirring posts about kindness, patience, and gratitude—words that stir the conscience for a fleeting moment—yet how rarely do we live even a fraction of their wisdom. Our digital connections resemble bubbles upon still water; shimmering, fragile, and empty at the core. They burst without warning, leaving behind only the memory of illusion. Within the walls of many homes today, a poignant scene unfolds. In one modest room, a father pores over his telephone, chasing distant conversations or business affairs. Beside him, the mother engages with images and voices from afar, her gentle smile reserved for the screen. The children, heads bent over glowing devices, laugh at jests from unknown companions or compete for admiration among virtual friends. Though seated within arm’s reach, they inhabit separate worlds. The warmth of real voices, the comfort of a shared glance, the simple pleasure of recounting the day’s small events—these have grown rare. We have learned the art of being present in absence, and absent in presence. The truth, spoken plainly, wounds the heart; we have changed profoundly. We know little of one another now beyond the bare fact that we yet live. The elder’s stories gather dust on forgotten shelves; the family consultation has fallen silent; the spontaneous visit to a relative’s home feels like an inconvenience rather than a delight. Our loved ones, who would stand beside us when fortune smiles or when tempests rage, receive only fragments of our attention. It is they, not the distant crowd, who truly matter. We must therefore resolve to reclaim the substance of life. Let us set aside the screens at certain hours, lift our eyes to those around us, and rediscover the irreplaceable value of real companionship. Let consultation return to the family table, visits become frequent once more, and festivals regain their former glow of devotion. Technology need not be our master; it can serve if we command it with wisdom. Only by nurturing the bonds with those who share our daily bread and our deepest affections can the family fabric regain its former strength and beauty. In such renewal lies our truest happiness, for the heart finds its home not in the applause of multitudes, but in the quiet fidelity of kin.