Gujrat: The Height of the Akbari Fort and the Trag…

In the hierarchical world of international diplomacy, mediation between adversaries is traditionally the preserve of foreign ministries and veteran envoys. In recent months, that role has been assumed, unusually, by a uniformed officer from Islamabad.   General Syed Asim Munir, Pakistan’s Chief of Army Staff, has moved beyond the conventional mandate of an army chief to position himself as a conduit for de-escalation at a moment of acute global volatility. His emergence as an interlocutor during the recent period of heightened confrontation between the United States and Iran, and his parallel effort to formalize defense cooperation between Pakistan, Turkey and Saudi Arabia, marks a significant shift in how Pakistan projects power and how regional security is being negotiated.   The development raises a central question for international observers: can a military leader serve as a credible bridge-builder in a region where traditional diplomacy has stalled?   From Barracks to Backchannels   To understand General Munir’s diplomatic turn, context is essential.   Pakistan has long balanced a complex set of alliances. It is a Major Non-NATO Ally of the United States, with decades of security cooperation, while also maintaining a 900-kilometer border with Iran and deep cultural and economic ties with its western neighbor. That dual positioning has often placed Islamabad in a difficult spot during US-Iran escalations, but it has also given it unique access.   General Munir, who previously served as Director General of Military Intelligence and Director General of Inter-Services Intelligence, is seen within Pakistan’s security establishment as an institutionalist with deep familiarity with both Gulf and Western security concerns.   According to diplomatic sources in Islamabad and Ankara, it was during the peak of US-Iran tensions earlier this year, when direct channels were limited and rhetoric was escalating, that General Munir engaged in a series of quiet consultations. The approach, described by one senior Pakistani official as “military diplomacy focused on de-confliction,” involved relaying assessments and emphasizing the cost of miscalculation to all sides.   In Washington, the priority was to avoid a broader regional conflict that would endanger US forces and global energy supplies. In Tehran, the priority was to prevent further isolation while maintaining deterrence. Pakistan’s message, as articulated by its military leadership, was consistent: dialogue over confrontation.   While the full extent of the mediation remains confidential, as is common in such backchannels, analysts in Washington noted a distinct softening of public statements from all parties following a round of regional visits that included Pakistan. A former US State Department official familiar with South Asia said, “When civilian political space is constrained, military-to-military channels become the most reliable mechanism for crisis management.”   The Trilateral Gambit   If the US-Iran de-escalation effort established General Munir’s credentials as a crisis manager, his second initiative is more structural in nature.   In recent weeks, officials from Pakistan, Turkey and Saudi Arabia have confirmed discussions toward a shared defense understanding. The framework, still under negotiation, is understood to focus on defense industrial cooperation, joint training, counter-terrorism intelligence sharing, and interoperability rather than a NATO-style collective defense treaty.   For each country, the rationale is different but complementary.   For Saudi Arabia, under Vision 2030, there is a clear drive toward diversifying its defense partnerships and building domestic defense manufacturing capacity. Turkey brings a rapidly advancing defense industry, with its drone programs and naval systems. Pakistan offers a large, battle-tested military, nuclear deterrence expertise, and extensive experience in counter-terrorism operations.   “This is not about creating a bloc against anyone,” a Turkish defense analyst explained. “It is about strategic self-reliance. For decades, these three countries have been dependent on external suppliers. They are now asking whether they can co-produce and co-secure.”   For Pakistan, the pact represents a long-sought goal: moving from being a security consumer dependent on external aid to being a security provider and partner among major Muslim-majority states. For General Munir, who has repeatedly spoken about the link between economic security and national security, such partnerships are seen as central to national stability.   Perspectives and Challenges   The reception has been cautiously optimistic but not without complexity.   In Riyadh and Ankara, the initiative is viewed through the lens of pragmatic national interest rather than ideological unity. Saudi and Turkish officials have been careful to frame any cooperation as open and defensive, not directed at any third party, including Iran or Western allies.   In Washington and European capitals, the reaction is twofold. On one hand, there is recognition that a trilateral arrangement that increases burden-sharing and promotes stability could be beneficial, particularly if it helps contain transnational threats. On the other hand, there are questions about interoperability with existing alliances and the long-term implications for arms procurement and regional alignments.   In Tehran, observers have watched the developments closely. Any defense cooperation that excludes Iran will inevitably be scrutinized. Pakistani diplomats have sought to reassure Iran that Islamabad’s engagement with Saudi Arabia and Turkey does not come at Tehran’s expense, pointing to the earlier mediation effort as evidence of Pakistan’s balanced approach.   The most significant challenges are internal. Trilateral defense cooperation requires sustained political will, financial commitments, and harmonization of defense systems  all of which are difficult to achieve. Pakistan faces severe economic constraints, Turkey navigates its commitments to NATO, and Saudi Arabia is managing a complex regional normalization process.   Critics within Pakistan also question whether the military should be leading diplomatic initiatives that are traditionally the domain of the Foreign Office. Supporters counter that in Pakistan’s hybrid governance structure, the army chief is inevitably a central actor in foreign and security policy, and formalizing that role can bring clarity.   The Diplomat in Uniform   The broader phenomenon of the “diplomat in uniform” is not new. In Egypt, Jordan, and indeed in the United States itself, senior military leaders have often served as critical channels when civilian diplomacy has faltered.   What makes General Munir’s case distinct is the narrative he is projecting for Pakistan itself: from a country

By Malik Khuda Bakhsh Awan, former Additional IG Punjab &  Engineer Arshad H. Abbasi In the early 1990s, operating a manual typewriter was not merely clerical work; it was a test of patience, precision, discipline and endurance. When our office typist disappeared without notice, the responsibility for preparing official reports fell upon us. There was no computer, no backspace and no “undo” button. Every word had to be typed carefully because a serious mistake could mean rewriting an entire page. We still remember spending almost eight hours preparing a single report, only to finish physically and mentally exhausted. Then, during a visit to Dubai on a different occasion, we witnessed Microsoft Office running on a modest personal computer, and it seemed almost magical. Microsoft Word could correct mistakes instantly, paragraphs could be moved without rewriting a page, and Excel could transform rows of figures into calculations, forecasts and financial analysis. We returned home convinced that technology would usher Pakistan into a new age of efficient governance, better engineering and more transparent economic management. In many ways, it did. Typewriters disappeared, computers transformed offices and the internet connected institutions. Yet another lesson gradually became clear: technology can change the tools without changing the people using them. Computers did not automatically eliminate corruption, inefficiency or institutional inertia. A powerful laptop in the hands of an uninterested official remained merely a powerful laptop. The same paradox emerged with PowerPoint. A tool designed to communicate information became, in some institutions, a substitute for serious analysis. Complex national problems were reduced to attractive slides, risks disappeared behind optimistic charts, and weak policies could be made to look impressive. “Death by PowerPoint” became more than a phrase; it became a warning about governance. We saw how major national decisions could be presented as technical successes while their long-term financial, economic and strategic consequences received insufficient scrutiny. The lesson is important because Pakistan is now entering another technological revolution, and this time the technology is far more powerful. Artificial intelligence is no longer limited to answering questions or completing simple prompts. The next generation is moving towards what we may describe as synthetic intelligence: increasingly autonomous systems that can receive an objective, break it into multiple tasks, use software tools, analyse information, check their own results, identify errors, revise their approach and continue working when a particular step fails. AI is also becoming multimodal, allowing systems to process text, images, sound, video, sensor information and structured data together. The next frontier is the integration of digital intelligence with the physical world through robotics, sensors, autonomous machines, industrial systems, medical technology, logistics and manufacturing. A system may eventually be able to observe a problem, formulate a plan, execute several steps, monitor the consequences and adapt its strategy without continuous human instruction. This is a profound transformation from statistical prediction towards increasingly structured problem-solving and autonomous action. Yet we must be careful about what this technological progress actually means. AI can calculate faster than humans, search more information than humans and identify patterns that humans may miss. It can optimise a supply chain, forecast electricity demand, analyse satellite imagery, detect anomalies in financial accounts and assist engineers in complex modelling. But none of this means that machines have acquired human wisdom. Intelligence and wisdom are not the same. A machine can calculate the most efficient way to distribute water, but it cannot independently determine what constitutes justice between competing communities. It can forecast a food shortage, but it cannot decide the moral priority between those who can pay and those who cannot. It can optimise an energy system, but it cannot decide whether a development project is worth the environmental and social cost. It can generate an economic model, but it cannot experience the hardship of a family facing inflation, unemployment or unaffordable electricity. The danger, therefore, is not simply that machines will become more intelligent. The greater danger is that human beings will begin surrendering judgement to machines. We must never confuse computational power with wisdom, information with understanding, or automation with responsibility. For Pakistan, this distinction is not an academic argument. It is a matter of national survival. Whatever happens to artificial intelligence during the next 100 years, human beings will still need food, water, energy, shelter and economic security. AI may transform the way these resources are managed, but it cannot abolish their physical foundations. An algorithm cannot manufacture a Himalayan glacier. A chatbot cannot create a river. A computer cannot grow wheat. A digital platform cannot replace a watershed. A robot cannot simply manufacture energy from nothing. AI can help us forecast rainfall, optimise irrigation, monitor groundwater, improve agricultural productivity, manage electricity demand, reduce transmission losses and identify climate risks. It can help us make better decisions, but it cannot remove our dependence on nature. This is particularly important for Pakistan because our national future is inseparable from the Indus Basin. Agriculture depends on water. Cities depend on reliable water supplies. Industry depends on energy. Food security depends on agriculture. Economic stability depends on affordable energy, productive agriculture, exports and functioning infrastructure. These systems are interconnected. Water affects food. Energy affects water. Food affects inflation. Energy affects industry. Climate change affects all of them. If water security deteriorates, agriculture suffers. If agriculture suffers, food prices rise. If energy becomes unaffordable, industry becomes uncompetitive. If industry weakens, employment and exports decline. If these pressures occur simultaneously, no AI system will magically rescue the country. This is why the belief that technology alone can solve Pakistan’s fundamental problems is dangerous. We have already made this mistake with computers and digitalisation. We must not repeat it with AI. Technology can amplify competence, but it can also amplify incompetence. If dishonest data enters an AI system, the machine may produce sophisticated dishonesty. If flawed assumptions enter the model, AI may produce a highly polished version of a flawed conclusion. If the objective is politically manipulated, the most advanced algorithm cannot convert a bad objective into good governance. The

By Latif Tunio Imagine two people standing outside a bakery. One has not eaten since yesterday. The other has already had breakfast but buys every loaf on the shelf because nobody else should have one. The first person is hungry. The second is greedy. That is the difference we often forget. Human needs are surprisingly small. We need food, shelter, safety, affection and dignity. Yet somewhere along the road to modern civilization, our desires stopped listening to our needs. We no longer ask, “Do I need this?” We ask, “Will people notice if I don’t have it?” Perhaps that is why we live in an age where skyscrapers grow taller while patience grows shorter. Greed is not new. Kings fought wars for gold centuries ago. Empires swallowed nations for spices, land and power. But today greed wears expensive perfume, carries a smartphone and speaks the language of success. It no longer hides in dark corners; sometimes it sits on television panels giving motivational speeches. A hundred years ago, a respected person was often remembered for honesty, wisdom or service to the community. Today, many people first ask, “What car does he drive?” or “How much is she worth?” Character has quietly been replaced by price tags.Social media has made this worse. Every morning millions of people wake up and immediately begin comparing their ordinary lives with someone else’s carefully edited highlights. One person posts a luxury vacation. Another uploads a new phone. Someone else announces another achievement. Nobody uploads sleepless nights, unpaid bills or family arguments. We compare our behind-the-scenes life with everyone else’s movie trailer.Then we wonder why we feel poor. The market has discovered something dangerous: making people dissatisfied is excellent for business. If people become content, who will buy the next upgrade Advertisements rarely sell products anymore. They sell insecurity. Frankly They whisper, “You are incomplete without this watch.” “You are unsuccessful without this car.” “You are unattractive without this cream.” Apparently even happiness now comes with monthly installments. Yet greed is not always born from vanity. Sometimes it grows out of fear. A father worried about rising school fees saves every rupee he can. A mother fears another economic crisis. A young graduate sees unemployment everywhere and begins believing that only endless money can guarantee safety. Fear slowly changes saving into hoarding, and caution into obsession. There is an old saying often attributed to Mahatma Gandhi: “The Earth provides enough for everyone’s need, but not everyone’s greed.” The tragedy is that many people no longer know where need ends and greed begins. Another reason is that we have quietly lost the art of contentment. Previous generations owned fewer things but often worried less about owning more. Today many people possess wardrobes full of clothes while insisting they have “nothing to wear.” We buy bigger houses only to spend less time inside them. We own faster internet but have slower conversations. Modern life keeps promising that the next purchase will finally complete us. It never does. Greed also flourishes where justice is weak. When honest people struggle while corrupt people become celebrities, society learns a dangerous lesson. Bribes become “connections.” Fraud becomes “smartness.” Tax evasion becomes “good business.” Before long, honesty begins looking like a financial disability. The message becomes painfully simple: if cheating pays and integrity suffers, why remain honest? This is how corruption stops being an individual crime and becomes a social culture. The damage reaches far beyond bank accounts. Families break apart over inheritance before the funeral flowers have even dried. Lifelong friendships disappear over business deals. Brothers become strangers because land suddenly becomes more valuable than blood. Perhaps the saddest part is that greedy people rarely enjoy what they collect. They spend years protecting possessions they never truly have time to use. They own everything except peace. Nature also pays the bill. Forests disappear because cutting trees is profitable today, even if floods arrive tomorrow. Rivers become sewers because treating waste reduces corporate profits. Mountains are blasted apart, oceans filled with plastic and clean air sold back to us in expensive machines. Humanity has become astonishingly efficient at converting tomorrow’s disasters into today’s profits. Can greed be reduced? Not by preaching alone. Children should learn that success includes honesty, kindness and responsibility—not only salaries. Schools should celebrate integrity as loudly as achievement. Families should teach gratitude before ambition. We also need digital wisdom: learning that a perfect life on a screen is often nothing more than excellent lighting and careful editing. Governments have responsibilities too. Laws must punish corruption without asking whether the offender is rich, famous or politically connected. Justice loses its meaning when it becomes negotiable. Above all, we need to rediscover contentment—not laziness, but the wisdom of knowing when enough is truly enough. A society does not become civilized because it builds taller buildings or produces richer billionaires. It becomes civilized when people can trust one another, when honesty is rewarded instead of mocked, and when success does not require sacrificing conscience. The greatest poverty in the twenty-first century may not be empty pockets. It may be full wallets attached to empty hearts. The writer is a Social activist. He can be reached at tunio.latif786@gmail.com

By Eng Saqlain Abid Last weekend, U.S. President Donald Trump declared on Truth Social that the United States and Israel were fully prepared to strike Iran’s critical power infrastructure, warning that military pressure would continue until Tehran surrendered completely. Around the same time, Iranian Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi reportedly conveyed messages through Pakistan’s Chief of Army Staff, Field Marshal Asim Munir, and Turkish Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan, emphasizing that any major attack on Iran would be met with a determined response against GCC partners and strategic regional assets if no diplomatic option remained. Yet within hours, the rhetoric shifted dramatically. Trump announced that although American and Israeli forces were fully prepared, he had decided to postpone military action following appeals from Gulf states and international mediators, citing “humanity” and the possibility of reaching an agreement. Reports suggested that negotiations revolved around two major conditions: keeping the Strait of Hormuz open to global shipping and ensuring that Iran would not pursue nuclear weapons. At first glance, the story appears simple—a crisis narrowly avoided through diplomacy. In reality, however, it represents a sophisticated narrative war in which every actor seeks to project strength while avoiding the devastating costs of a prolonged regional conflict. For Washington, the challenge is not merely military capability but strategic credibility. The United States undoubtedly possesses overwhelming conventional military superiority over Iran. However, superiority does not automatically translate into political success. Internal assessments by CENTCOM and the Pentagon have reportedly warned that any large-scale conflict could extend well beyond expectations, potentially lasting until 2027. Such a scenario would coincide with America’s domestic political calendar, including congressional elections, while risking declining public support for another costly Middle Eastern war. The lessons of Afghanistan continue to shape American strategic thinking. Airpower alone may inflict significant damage, but permanently degrading Iran’s military capabilities without ground operations remains an uncertain objective. Any decision requiring “boots on the ground” would carry enormous political and economic consequences. Consequently, Washington’s repeated threats increasingly resemble a strategy of coercive diplomacy rather than an immediate roadmap to invasion. A superpower is expected to demonstrate resolve, but maintaining global leadership also requires restraint when the costs outweigh the benefits. Iran, on the other hand, continues to rely on its long-established doctrine of strategic resistance. Despite mounting military pressure and repeated warnings, Tehran has sought to demonstrate that it retains the ability to impose costs across multiple theatres. The Strait of Hormuz remains one of the world’s most strategically significant maritime chokepoints, and any disruption immediately reverberates through global energy markets. Meanwhile, continued instability around the Bab el-Mandeb Strait, largely influenced by Iran-aligned Houthi forces, further complicates regional trade and shipping.   These maritime flashpoints have created understandable concerns among Gulf states. Countries investing billions of dollars in economic diversification projects—including Saudi Arabia’s Vision 2030 and NEOM—depend heavily upon uninterrupted trade routes and stable energy markets. For Gulf capitals, preventing a regional escalation has become not merely a security priority but an economic necessity. Israel’s strategic calculations are equally complex. Since the beginning of the confrontation, Israeli policymakers have consistently sought firm American backing while remaining conscious of the domestic burden imposed by prolonged conflict. Extended military campaigns strain national resources, disrupt civilian life, and test public resilience. Consequently, Israel also has incentives to support diplomatic arrangements if they preserve security objectives without expanding into an open-ended regional war. Ultimately, today’s confrontation extends beyond missiles and military deployments. It is a contest of narratives, deterrence, and political signalling. Every side seeks to appear uncompromising while simultaneously avoiding a conflict whose consequences none can fully control. The prospect of a prolonged regional war is becoming increasingly difficult for any major stakeholder to sustain. Iran continues to deepen its strategic relationships with China and Russia, while the United States prefers negotiated constraints over another indefinite military campaign. Pakistan and Turkey have emerged as important channels of communication, but expecting either country to shoulder the diplomatic burden of resolving one of the world’s most dangerous geopolitical crises would be unrealistic. History repeatedly demonstrates that wars are easier to begin than to conclude. In the current Middle Eastern crisis, the loudest battlefield may not be defined by bombs or missiles but by competing narratives, diplomatic manoeuvres, and carefully calculated restraint. Whether this fragile pause evolves into a lasting settlement or merely delays another round of confrontation will determine not only the future of Iran but also the stability of the wider region and the global order.

What happens when the misogynistic cultural mindset of men forces them to lock the women in  their community inside four brick walls and suddenly there are no women to harass and assault on the streets? Some may assume that now they may only assault their wives, sisters and daughters inside their homes, unfortunately that is far from the truth. This in contrast induces them to prey on adolescent boys who are young enough to have a feminine innocence installed in them.   In Afghanistan and many parts of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa in Pakistan, there is a horrendously horrific custom known as Bacha Bazi in which old men scout, groom and buy young boys from their families, or forcefully take the ones who are orphans on the run trying to survive. The literal meaning of Bacha Bazi translates into ‘Boy Play’ which is an illegal abuse normalized by the majority.   These underage boys possess soft features, hairless bodies and no voice. They are forced to wear clothes of women, often dresses and skirts. They are taught to dance, sing and to be painfully silent. This can be located and traced back to the poverty in these provinces where selling daughters and sons can be the only possible course of action to avoid starvation. Many documentaries have been filmed as well as the interviews of the culprits who are asked the possible reason of their disgusting misdoings to which they have only one answer – ‘it is our need’.   Another terrifying leisure activity is quite common among the truck drivers, however not much of the population possess any knowledge of it. The overwhelming majority of these drivers on the road for hours each day have an underage boy with them to use in ways not comprehensible to most. The district police, politicians and those in charge are extremely aware of this filth- yet they choose to blind themselves and no just action is ever taken. These men pollute this world with their abusive methods and turn the abused into the next abuser. It can be said that many of these rapists were in fact themselves hunted upon from a very young age.   People yearn for women rights every hour of the day- yet they somehow forget to raise their voices for these young boys who do not know what family, protection or a warm bed is. We point out the West of having billionaires who rape little children but we forget that our own country allows the same violations to be performed by ordinary low income men.   Imagine being born in this world, your mother died in childbirth and if alive is covered with bruises, your sisters were sold at the age of six so you could eat and now the money is running out and the only way to survive is for you to dance for older men in skirts so your younger siblings can go without starving. This is the reality of millions of young boys untold and unheard of.   Thousands of gatherings take place everyday where these young boys perform for their ‘owners’ no matter how tired, exhausted or embarrassed they may feel. Once they turn 18 and are no longer young enough to satisfy the technical needs of pedophiles, they are often employed with sustainable enough wages to teach the younger recruits on the tricks and methods of performing and satisfying. Hence the cycle repeats and a chain is formed.

As the fourth week of the US–Israel military campaign against Iran unfolded in March 2026, a major geopolitical shift reshaped South Asia and the Middle East. For years, India’s rise under Narendra Modi had dominated regional diplomacy while Pakistan faced marginalization and economic struggles. However, the outbreak of war in West Asia created an opportunity for Pakistan to leverage its geography and relationships to regain global relevance. Within weeks, Pakistan mounted a proactive and unified diplomatic effort led by Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif and military chief Field Marshal Asim Munir, reversing its isolation and, according to observers, redirecting diplomatic pressure toward India. This “peace offensive” highlighted Pakistan’s strategic agility and exposed perceived weaknesses in India’s foreign policy, marking a striking turnaround in regional influence. This resurgence began after the US and Israel launched their offensive against Iran on February 28, 2026, forcing countries into difficult alignments. Pakistan instead positioned itself as a neutral stabilizer, maintaining ties with both the United States and Iran while emphasizing its stake in de-escalation due to its shared border with Iran. A rare civil-military unity drove this strategy: Sharif engaged the Muslim world and framed mediation as a moral duty, including direct outreach to Iran’s president, while Munir used high-level connections in Washington to open backchannel communications. His rapport with US leadership enabled message exchanges between American and Iranian officials, helping establish a temporary de-escalation and cementing Pakistan’s role as a key diplomatic intermediary. The effectiveness of this two-pronged approach became evident when President Trump announced a conditional pause on plans to “obliterate” Iranian energy infrastructure. In his announcement on the Truth Social platform, Trump cited “VERY GOOD AND PRODUCTIVE” conversations, a tacit acknowledgment of the behind-the-scenes efforts being made by Pakistan. Building on this momentum, Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif made a formal, public offer on March 24, 2026, stating that Pakistan “stands ready and honoured to be the host to facilitate meaningful and conclusive talks” between the United States and Iran. In an extraordinary diplomatic signal that underscored the shift in Washington’s attitude toward Islamabad, President Trump reposted Sharif’s offer on his Truth Social account. This repost was widely interpreted by analysts and officials in Islamabad as Washington’s de facto endorsement of Pakistan’s emerging role as a credible and neutral mediator, capable of hosting what would be a historic breakthrough in one of the world’s most volatile conflicts. While the White House cautioned that such talks remained speculative, the very fact that Pakistan was being discussed as a potential venue—and that its leadership was publicly coordinating with Turkey and Egypt to secure a fragile pause in hostilities—represented a monumental diplomatic victory for a nation that had spent years trying to shake off its image as an international pariah. The strategic ramifications of Pakistan’s diplomatic surge extend far beyond the immediate conflict in West Asia, striking directly at the heart of India’s long-standing foreign policy objectives under Prime Minister Modi. For years, a central pillar of India’s global strategy was the policy of isolating Pakistan, portraying it as a sponsor of terrorism and an unstable, economically faltering state. By deepening India’s strategic partnerships with Western powers, including the United States, Israel, and the Gulf monarchies, New Delhi sought to limit Islamabad’s diplomatic space and marginalize its influence on the world stage. However, Pakistan’s performance as the lead mediator in the US-Iran conflict has fundamentally challenged this narrative. By demonstrating that it possesses “strategic synergy” and can act as a “responsible nuclear power” and a stabilizing force, Pakistan has proven itself to be an “indispensable actor” in a crisis where a larger power like India cannot provide the same utility. This development has been described by scholars like Vali Nasr as a calculated and highly effective move to prove that Pakistan is more than a “problem child,” capable of “walking the talk” on global peace. This reversal has been so stark that it has prompted open criticism of the Modi government from within India itself. Congress leader Jairam Ramesh, a prominent voice in the Indian opposition, issued a series of scathing statements on March 24, 2026, acknowledging that Pakistan’s diplomatic engagement and narrative management had been “markedly superior to that of the Modi Govt”. Ramesh went further, stating that the international media reports identifying Pakistan as a potential intermediary represented a “severe setback and rebuff to India”. He directly attributed this disadvantage to the “self-styled Vishwaguru” (world leader) foreign policy of Prime Minister Modi, arguing that despite India’s military successes, its diplomatic space in the region had shrunk over the previous year. A key point of criticism was Modi’s “ill-advised” visit to Israel just days before the US-Israel strikes on Iran, a move that Ramesh and other analysts argued fatally compromised any claim India might have had to neutrality in the conflict. In contrast, Pakistan, despite being a close US ally, was able to maintain a balanced posture, leveraging its ties with both Washington and Tehran to become the preferred interlocutor. The once-celebrated “hug diplomacy” of Prime Minister Modi, which sought to build deep personal relationships with global leaders, was now being characterized by critics as “brutally exposed,” unable to compete with the practical, geostrategic value that Pakistan was able to offer in a moment of acute crisis. The architect of Pakistan’s success in securing such favorable access to the US administration is widely acknowledged to be Field Marshal Asim Munir, whose efforts to rebuild ties with Washington began long before the war with Iran erupted. Throughout 2025, Munir engaged in a methodical campaign to reverse the diplomatic isolation that Pakistan experienced during the Biden administration. A pivotal moment came when Pakistan nominated President Trump for the Nobel Peace Prize, citing his role in de-escalating tensions between India and Pakistan. This shrewd move, which played to Trump’s well-known desire for the prestigious award, was rewarded with an invitation for Munir to a one-on-one White House lunch—a privilege rarely granted to a foreign military leader who was not also a head of state. Furthermore, Pakistan aligned