How China Intimidated the United States of America

The recent press conference by ISPR Director General Lieutenant General Ahmed Sharif Chaudhry was presented as a significant and comprehensive briefing outlining Pakistan’s strategic direction, national priorities, and approach to security, governance, economic stability, terrorism, and external interference. Lasting more than two hours in Rawalpindi, the briefing went beyond a routine security update by addressing sensitive national issues in detail and providing operational information supported by data, charts, and presentations. It emphasized transparency, offered the military’s perspective on the country’s security environment, and sought to provide clarity on the state’s actions and long-term plans. The conference highlighted the breadth of the challenges facing Pakistan and outlined what was described as a unified path forward, while emphasizing the armed forces’ commitment to national security and sovereignty. A central theme of the address was that good governance is essential for Pakistan’s long-term security and stability, with the argument that military operations alone cannot eliminate terrorism and extremism without stronger administrative and institutional capacity. The DG ISPR described security and governance as closely interconnected and cited the National Action Plan (NAP) as a consensus framework requiring effective implementation through measures such as countering extremist narratives, disrupting terror financing, and strengthening institutions. Referring to Pakistan’s population of around 240 to 250 million, he suggested reviewing whether the existing four-province administrative structure adequately serves the goal of good governance and said that, if an administrative reset is considered necessary, it should be decided by the country’s political leadership through constitutional and legal processes reflecting the will of the people. He also underscored the distinction between the military’s responsibility for security and the authority of civilian institutions over political and administrative reforms, reaffirming that such decisions should remain within the constitutional framework. A significant portion of the press conference was dedicated to providing a stark and detailed update on the country’s counterterrorism efforts, presenting an overwhelming amount of operational data. The DG ISPR revealed that security forces have conducted a staggering 40,348 intelligence-based operations (IBOs) across Pakistan so far in 2026, which averages to nearly 200 operations every single day. This relentless operational tempo is a testament to the proactive and aggressive posture adopted by the security forces to root out militancy from every corner of the country, leaving no safe haven for terrorists to operate. Of these, the majority—over 31,000—were carried out in Balochistan, underscoring the province’s central role in the national security strategy and the immense efforts being invested to bring stability to that region. He reported that a total of 3,145 terrorism incidents had taken place in the country in 2026, with 1,971 reported from Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, 1,148 from Balochistan, and 26 from other parts of the country. The results of these operations, he stated, have been significant, with 2,084 confirmed terrorists eliminated. This, he emphasized, translates to an average of 10 terrorists being killed every day, which he described as the highest operational ratio ever achieved in the country’s history. This high kill ratio is indicative of the intelligence-led nature of the operations, where precise targeting minimizes collateral damage and maximizes the impact on terrorist networks. However, he also acknowledged the heavy price paid for this peace, revealing that 819 Pakistanis have embraced martyrdom this year in the fight against terrorism. This somber figure includes 303 Pakistan Army personnel, 194 police and other law enforcement officials, and 322 innocent civilians. The sacrifice of these brave individuals, he noted, is a debt that can never be fully repaid, but it underscores the determination of the nation to prevail against the scourge of terrorism. He also disclosed that 28 suicide bombings have occurred nationwide, the majority of which, he alleged, were carried out by Afghan nationals. This disclosure highlighted the nexus between cross-border terrorism and the instability in Afghanistan, a point he elaborated on to stress the need for effective border management and regional cooperation. In a crucial clarification that resonated deeply with the public, the DG ISPR addressed the concept of a “hard state,” dispelling any misconceptions about its meaning. He explained that a “hard state” does not refer to military rule, nor does it imply a repressive or authoritarian regime. Instead, he defined it as a country where the Constitution and the rule of law are enforced equally for every individual without any discrimination or elitism. It is a system where all matters are resolved through constitutional and legal mechanisms, and where every citizen is equal before the law, regardless of their social or political standing. This vision of a “hard state” is fundamentally about strengthening the state’s institutions and legal frameworks to ensure justice and accountability for all, thereby creating a more stable and prosperous society where the rights of every citizen are protected. He used this definition to counter the narratives of those who fear a strong state, arguing that a “hard state” is the ultimate guarantor of democracy and individual freedoms, as it prevents the strong from exploiting the weak and ensures that the law is the supreme authority. Turning his focus to the complex security situation in Balochistan, the DG ISPR adopted a nuanced approach that combined a firm security stance with a clear commitment to development and public engagement. He firmly rejected the narrative that the security situation in the province is deteriorating, calling it a deliberate and coordinated campaign to create a false perception. He alleged that certain elite groups and tribal leaders (sardars) have historically opposed social progress to preserve their own power structures, and he stressed the need to empower the people of Balochistan instead of these traditional power brokers. The state’s priority, he declared, is to resolve the genuine grievances of the province’s residents while continuing decisive operations against militant groups who seek to disrupt the peace. He outlined a comprehensive development agenda for the province, detailing that the state would engage directly with the people of Balochistan rather than with disruptive elements. To this end, he highlighted that billions of rupees are being invested in socio-economic development projects across the province.

By Mudassar Javed Baryar Avni Doshi, the Booker Prize-shortlisted author of Burnt Sugar, returns with her second novel, The First House, a work that solidifies her reputation as one of the most compelling literary voices of her generation. Doshi, born in New Jersey in 1982, has established herself as a writer who fearlessly dissects the complexities of human relationships, particularly those between mothers and daughters, husbands and wives. Her debut was lauded for its unflinching honesty and lyrical prose, and The First House continues this tradition, offering readers a psychologically penetrating exploration of marriage, identity, and the slow, agonizing process of self-reclamation. The novel centres on an unnamed narrator whose thirteen-year marriage unexpectedly collapses, forcing her to confront not only the immediate devastation of her husband’s departure but also the deeper, more unsettling questions about her past, her family, and the very nature of love and sacrifice. It is a story that is as mythologically rich as it is emotionally devastating, weaving together ancient goddesses, astrological charts, and the relentless cycle of nature to create a profound meditation on what it means to lose everything and find oneself in the process. The First House is a domestic drama steeped in psychological intensity and mythological symbolism, unfolding through the intimate, raw perspective of its unnamed narrator. The story begins with a moment of shattering clarity: her husband enters their bedroom and calmly announces he no longer wishes to be married. From this single, devastating event, the narrative spirals outward, exploring the aftermath of abandonment and the slow, painful process of learning to exist without the structures that once defined her. The plot is not driven by a series of dramatic external events but rather by the protagonist’s internal journey as she grapples with her grief, anger, and profound disorientation. As the narrator struggles to maintain her composure for the sake of her two young daughters, she retreats into the world of astrology, studying birth charts in search of answers or perhaps just patterns that might explain the chaos of her life. She becomes fixated on the figure of Diana, the Roman goddess of the hunt, whose statue stands in her neighbour’s yard—a constant, silent observer of her unravelling. The statue, originally commissioned as a weathervane, becomes a powerful symbol of her own perceived powerlessness and the indignity of being turned by forces beyond one’s control. The novel also weaves in the emergence of periodical cicadas, whose seventeen-year life cycles of subterranean dormancy and explosive, noisy mating serve as a metaphor for hidden growth, suppressed desire, and the inevitable transformations that drive all living things. The setting, a seemingly placid suburban landscape, contrasts sharply with the internal turmoil of the protagonist. Her world shrinks to the confines of her home, her fraught relationships with her parents, and her complicated, long-estranged relationship with her sister, Didi. The central conflict is her struggle to maintain a sense of self—to keep her head, as it were, while her life is dismantled piece by piece. As she navigates financial instability, the practical challenges of single parenthood, and the humiliation of being left, she is forced to confront uncomfortable truths about her marriage and herself. The novel is ultimately a story about the stories we tell ourselves to survive, and what happens when those narratives collapse. Doshi uses the themes of loss, betrayal, and self-reclamation to explore how we construct our identities through relationships and what remains when those structures are removed. The true power of The First House lies in Doshi’s extraordinary prose and the depth of her protagonist’s consciousness. The author crafts a narrative that is brutally honest, often uncomfortable, and deeply insightful into the psychology of a woman in crisis. The writing itself is a masterclass in showing, not telling; the reader feels the protagonist’s disorientation, her rising panic, and her eventual, hard-won clarity through the rhythm of the language and the accumulation of powerful, visceral details. Doshi has a remarkable ability to render complex emotional states with precision and economy, making the reader feel as though they are living inside the narrator’s mind. The novel’s structure, which moves between present-day events and memories of the past, creates a rich, layered portrait of a life that feels both specific and universal. One of the most compelling characters is the narrator herself. Her voice is raw, intelligent, and often unflattering, yet it is this very honesty that makes her so resonant. She is not a passive victim; she is a woman capable of sharp observation and deep self-criticism, which makes her journey of self-discovery all the more moving. For instance, her admission that she sometimes resented the intrusion of her family on her writing time, or her complex feelings of love and resentment towards her children, are depicted with a startling authenticity that challenges romanticized notions of motherhood. A specific example of her compelling development is her relationship with the act of writing itself. Initially a source of guilt and a symbol of what she has lost, writing gradually becomes a tool for her reclamation, a way for her to”re-collect”herself and her story. Her growing awareness of her own complicity in the failure of her marriage, and her willingness to examine her own flaws, makes her a deeply sympathetic and profoundly human character. Another exceptionally compelling aspect of the novel is the storyline involving the Diana statue and the cicadas. Doshi masterfully uses these elements not as mere decorative motifs, but as integral parts of the narrative’s thematic architecture. The statue of Diana, a representation of a powerful, self-possessed female deity, becomes a haunting presence throughout the novel, a mirror for the narrator’s own lost power and a link to her past self. The story of Diana’s commissioning as a weathervane, a great goddess forced to turn at the whim of the wind, becomes a potent symbol for the diminishment the protagonist feels in her marriage and society at large. The revelation of the architect’s violent death at the foot of the statue adds

Noreen Niazi, sister of Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf founder Imran Khan, made controversial remarks in a widely circulated podcast that drew widespread criticism across Pakistan. She alleged that the military confrontation with India, referred to in Pakistan as Marka-e-Haq (Battle of Truth), was a staged event rather than a genuine act of national defence and claimed there was a secret understanding between the Pakistan Army and Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi to mislead the Pakistani public. She further alleged that Israel and the United States were behind the conflict, claiming India acted under Israeli influence to pressure Pakistan into recognizing Israel through the Abraham Accords, that Pakistan’s government and military had secretly contacted Israeli officials, and that praise from US President Donald Trump for Pakistan’s leadership was part of this alleged agenda. She admitted she had no official information or evidence for these claims and had reached them through her own reasoning, prompting critics to dismiss the allegations as baseless misinformation that undermined the Pakistan Army, the country’s foreign policy, and the sacrifices of its soldiers. Her remarks triggered legal and political condemnation. The National Cyber Crime Investigation Agency issued her a legal notice and summons, accusing her of spreading false, offensive, and inflammatory content intended to defame state institutions, harm national unity, and warning of legal consequences under Section 174 of the Pakistan Penal Code if she failed to comply. Political leaders, including Punjab Information Minister Azma Bokhari, condemned the remarks, linked them to Imran Khan’s political outlook, argued they were contrary to Pakistan’s national interests and achievements, and warned they could be exploited by hostile foreign media to damage the country’s image. Her allegations about Israel were also rejected as inconsistent with Pakistan’s longstanding foreign policy, which supports the Palestinian cause, rejects recognition of Israel until an independent Palestinian state is established on the pre-1967 borders with Al-Quds Al-Sharif as its capital, and was reaffirmed by Defence Minister Khawaja Asif in May 2026. Pakistan’s passport, which remains invalid for travel to Israel, was also cited as evidence contradicting claims of secret normalization efforts. The Marka-e-Haq operation itself was a monumental moment for Pakistan that redefined the country’s military strategy and deterrence capability. The operation was not just a simple skirmish but a carefully planned and executed response to aggression that showcased the exceptional capabilities of the Pakistan Army and the Air Force. The armed forces, through coordinated leadership and superior tactics, successfully foiled any Indian attempts to escalate the conflict. The entire operation demonstrated Pakistan’s resolve to defend its borders at all costs and highlighted the nation’s advancements in modern warfare and technology. The Director General of the Inter-Services Public Relations provided a detailed briefing to the nation, outlining the ten strategic outcomes of the Marka-e-Haq. He explained how the operation transformed the nature of warfare and re-established a balance of power in the region. The entire Pakistani nation, from the northern areas to the southern coast, united in support of its military and celebrated the professionalism and bravery displayed by the armed forces. This unity was a source of immense strength and sent a clear message to the international community about the resilience of the Pakistani nation. It is this very success and the strengthening of national unity that act as a major irritant for the country’s enemies, both internal and external. Those who seek to destabilize Pakistan and weaken its military understand that a strong and confident army is the biggest obstacle to their nefarious plans. Therefore, they continuously resort to such malicious propaganda, attempting to create divisions and lower the morale of the forces. The false narratives propagated by individuals like Noreen Niazi are thus seen as a direct tool of these enemies to achieve their destabilizing objectives. The Pakistani nation, with its rich history of resilience and unwavering patriotism, has categorically rejected these heinous and baseless narratives. The people of Pakistan are not naive, and they are fully capable of distinguishing between truth and falsehood, especially when it concerns the defence and integrity of their homeland. The anger expressed on social media and in public gatherings shows that the public is fully aware of the sacrifices made by the armed forces. They recognize that the soldiers serving on the borders are the nation’s heroes and that any attack on them is an attack on the country itself. This widespread public condemnation has actually served to strengthen the bond between the people and the military. The false narratives, instead of creating doubt, have opened the eyes of the nation even further and have made it easier for the average citizen to differentiate between those who work for the country’s prosperity and those who, driven by selfish political interests, are willing to jeopardize the nation’s security for their own gain. The people are demanding that strict action be taken against all such elements, regardless of their political background or connections. They believe that the law must take its course and that such individuals must be held accountable for their words and actions. The unity and resilience of the Pakistani nation remain unshakable, and such cowardly attempts to create discord and spread lies will only serve to strengthen the resolve of the people to defend their motherland and its institutions. The state is determined to protect its ideological and geographical frontiers, and with the full backing of its patriotic populace, it will successfully thwart all such attempts to undermine its stability and sovereignty.

Decolonization is often thought of as the process through which colonized nations became free from foreign rule. Flags changed, colonial governments were removed and national governments were. Political independence was officially given back. Yet political freedom did not always mean intellectual, cultural, linguistic or psychological freedom. In places that were once colonized the structures of colonialism stayed long after the colonizers left. These structures continued through education systems, languages, cultural expectations, literary standards, social organizations, economic systems, media portrayals and inherited ideas about what’s considered knowledge, civilization, intelligence, progress and even beauty. This ongoing influence brings up a question: Can a country really be independent if its people still judge themselves using the intellectual standards of their former rulers? The point of this article is that political decolonization is not complete without the decolonization of the mind. Decolonizing minds does not mean rejecting everything from the West. Does it mean replacing one way of thinking with another? Instead it means looking at the systems of knowledge that have been passed down, finding voices that have been ignored, acknowledging indigenous ways of thinking, challenging language and culture hierarchies and building confidence to create knowledge based on one’s own history and society while still being open to global ideas. The idea of the “colonization of the mind” is very important because colonialism was not about politics or money. Colonial powers often tried to show that their language, literature, religion, schools, social systems and ways of knowing were better than those of the people they ruled. The people who were colonized were. Sometimes forced to believe that the culture of the colonizers was modern while their own traditions were backward. The result was a system where the colonized person started to see themselves through the eyes of the people who ruled them. Frantz Fanon in his books about the psychology of colonialism showed how colonial control gets into the minds of the people who are oppressed. So colonialism does not end because the person in charge leaves. Its biggest success happens when its ideas and beliefs become part of the colonized person’s thinking. The mental impact of colonialism is one of its lasting effects. A colonized mind may feel ashamed of its language, accent, literature, clothing, history, traditions and ways of thinking. It may think that foreign things are advanced and local things are outdated. A student may think that an English source is automatically more important than a source from their country that is just as good. A university may value ideas from Europe or North America while not giving attention to ideas from Africa, Asia, Latin America or native communities. A society may celebrate culture while thinking its own traditions are old-fashioned. These views are not always because of individuals; they are often the result of historical systems that have taught generations what to admire and what to ignore. Education is one of the important places where decolonization needs to happen. Colonial education systems were often built not to help the people they ruled but to serve the needs of the rulers. Even though schools today have changed a lot, many still repeat the ways of knowing. The lessons may focus on history, Western books, European philosophy and Western science while giving little space to local knowledge and traditions. This does not mean that Shakespeare, Aristotle, Kant, Newton or other great thinkers should be removed from the lessons. That would only replace one kind of exclusion with another. The real goal is to have balance. Students should read Shakespeare along with writers from South Asia, Africa, the Caribbean and other areas. They should study philosophy while also learning about philosophies from Asia, Africa, the Islamic world and native communities. The purpose is not to get rid of knowledge but to make the learning more wide. A decolonized class asks tough questions about who has been allowed to create knowledge. Who writes history? Who is considered important in literature? Whose language is seen as academic? Whose knowledge is seen as scientific? Whose view defines life? These questions show the politics of knowledge. Knowledge is never made in a vacuum. Schools, universities, publishers, governments, colonial systems and international groups have often decided which types of knowledge are accepted. Decolonization means we have to see these systems and think about them carefully or just accept them as better. Language is possibly the obvious place where intellectual decolonization needs to happen. Colonial languages like English, French, Spanish and Portuguese still hold positions in many countries that used to be colonized. English in particular has become a language and gives access to international learning, technology, jobs, diplomacy and higher education. So the argument for decolonization can’t just be to stop using English. That would be unrealistic. Might even hurt students who need to speak English to communicate internationally. A better argument is to have languages. English should be seen as one tool, not a measure of smartness, civilization or social value. In countries where many languages are spoken, local languages carry histories, memories, identities, oral stories, cultural knowledge and different ways of looking at the world. When a language is pushed aside an entire system of thinking can be weakened. Losing a language is not just losing words; it can also lose knowledge about nature, stories, cultural memory, native words and community identity. Decolonizing the mind means people need to see that speaking a language does not make someone less educated and speaking English does not automatically make someone more intelligent. Knowing a language and being smart are things. A person can be very educated and still express themselves best in a language. At the time, decolonization should not make people dislike English or other global languages. English has been taken by writers, scholars, activists and thinkers from countries and used to show their own experiences. Writers like Chinua Achebe, Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, Salman Rushdie, Derek Walcott, Wole Soyinka and many others have shown ways to use colonial languages. Their work shows that language can

By Tahseenullah For decades, labour migration in Pakistan has largely been viewed as a response to unemployment and poverty. While this perspective has served its purpose, it no longer reflects the realities of today’s global economy. In the twenty-first century, labour mobility has become far more than an economic necessity—it is a strategic investment in human capital, national competitiveness and economic diplomacy. Countries that can produce skilled, certified and globally competitive workers will hold a distinct advantage in an increasingly interconnected labour market. As ageing populations, declining fertility rates and persistent labour shortages reshape developed economies, demand for skilled workers is rising across Europe, East Asia and other advanced markets. Pakistan, with one of the world’s youngest populations, is well positioned to seize this opportunity. The real challenge is not whether Pakistan has enough young people willing to work abroad, but whether it can equip them with internationally recognised skills, qualifications, language proficiency and professional competencies that meet evolving global labour market demands. Pakistan’s labour migration journey began with the establishment of the Bureau of Emigration and Overseas Employment in 1971, following the Gulf oil boom. Since then, more than 15 million Pakistanis have migrated through regular channels, contributing significantly to infrastructure, healthcare, construction, transport and service sectors worldwide while improving the livelihoods of millions of families back home. Today, overseas employment remains one of Pakistan’s most important economic assets. According to BEOE, 862,625 Pakistanis migrated for employment in 2023, followed by 725,672 in 2024 and 762,499 in 2025, with early trends indicating sustained international demand in 2026. Meanwhile, the Pakistan Migration Report 2025 and the State Bank of Pakistan estimate workers’ remittances at approximately US$38.3 billion in FY2024–25, representing nearly 9.34 percent of GDP. These remittances strengthen foreign exchange reserves, reduce poverty and support macroeconomic stability. Yet labour migration has rarely been treated as a strategic pillar of Pakistan’s long-term economic planning. The global labour market is undergoing profound change. According to the World Economic Forum’s Future of Jobs Report 2025, demographic shifts, technological advances and the green transition will create millions of new employment opportunities over the coming decade. Healthcare professionals, engineers, IT specialists, skilled technicians, renewable energy workers, construction professionals and caregivers are expected to remain in particularly high demand. Pakistan possesses a valuable demographic dividend, with nearly two-thirds of its population under the age of 30. However, this advantage will only translate into economic gains through sustained investment in education, Technical and Vocational Education and Training (TVET), international certification, digital skills and language training. The challenge is clear. The Pakistan Migration Report 2025 shows that nearly two-thirds of Pakistani migrant workers remain low-skilled or unskilled. While their contribution is invaluable, low-skilled employment often results in lower wages, limited career progression and greater vulnerability to labour market shocks. In contrast, highly skilled migrants generally access better jobs, stronger labour protections and significantly higher earnings. Pakistan must therefore move beyond a traditional labour export model towards a human capital export strategy. Success should no longer be measured simply by the number of workers leaving the country, but by the quality, productivity and global competitiveness of its workforce. Achieving this transformation requires comprehensive reforms. TVET institutions must align training with international occupational standards and labour market needs. Language education in German, Japanese, Korean and Italian, alongside digital literacy, workplace ethics and intercultural communication, should become integral components of workforce development. Market diversification is equally important. While Gulf Cooperation Council countries will remain Pakistan’s primary labour destinations, excessive dependence on one region exposes the country to geopolitical uncertainty and labour market fluctuations. Pakistan should actively expand regular labour mobility partnerships with Europe, Japan, South Korea, Australia and Canada, where structural labour shortages continue to grow. Government-to-government labour mobility agreements should become a strategic priority. Such partnerships can enhance transparency, reduce recruitment costs, improve worker protection and strengthen employer confidence in Pakistani talent. Simultaneously, Pakistan should pursue mutual recognition of qualifications and internationally accepted skills certification to facilitate smoother labour market integration. Institutional coordination will also be essential. The Ministry of Overseas Pakistanis and Human Resource Development, together with the NAVTTC, provincial TEVTAs, Overseas Employment Promoters, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Pakistan’s overseas missions, should implement an integrated national labour mobility framework supported by labour market intelligence, digital recruitment platforms and evidence-based policymaking. Pakistan can draw valuable lessons from the Philippines, whose migration governance combines ethical recruitment, mandatory pre-departure orientation, comprehensive worker welfare and strong overseas support systems. Adapting these practices would strengthen Pakistan’s reputation as a reliable source of skilled and protected migrant workers. At the same time, addressing irregular migration must remain a national priority. Preventing dangerous migration routes requires expanding legal migration opportunities, strengthening career counselling, improving public awareness, dismantling human smuggling networks and ensuring aspiring migrants have access to reliable information and affordable recruitment services. Labour migration should no longer be viewed solely as a means of reducing unemployment or increasing remittances. It should be recognised as a cornerstone of Pakistan’s economic diplomacy, human capital development and long-term growth strategy. The countries that will lead the future of global labour mobility will not necessarily be those with the largest populations, but those that invest in producing highly skilled, internationally certified and globally competitive talent. Pakistan has already demonstrated its ability to contribute to the global workforce. The next step is to move beyond exporting labour to exporting talent. By investing in skills, strengthening institutions, diversifying labour markets and promoting ethical, well-governed migration, Pakistan can transform its demographic dividend into one of its greatest strategic advantages. The world is searching for talent. Pakistan has the youth. What it now needs is the vision to turn that potential into global human capital leadership. Tahseen Ullah is a development and migration sector practitioner specializing in labour mobility, migration governance, education and child protection.

This 14th of August, as the green and white flags go up from Karachi to Khyber and the air fills with the crackle of fireworks, there is a question every young Pakistani must ask themselves: what exactly are we celebrating? Is it merely the fact that a nation was born at the stroke of midnight 79 years ago? Or is it something far more demanding — the unfinished promise of that birth, the dream that millions carried across blood-soaked borders, the conviction that Pakistan would be not just a homeland, but a beacon? Nisid Hajari’s book Midnight’s Furies does not let us off easy. It drags us back to the raw, unvarnished truth of 1947 — and in doing so, it hands our generation something precious: the tools to understand who we are, where we came from, and what we still owe to those who paid the ultimate price for our freedom. Hajari wrote that on 9 August 1947, a train pulls out of Delhi bound for Karachi, 800 miles away. Onboard are Muslim clerks and officials who had served the British-run government of India with distinction. With them are their families, their ribbon-tied files, their children’s toys, their prayer rugs, and the gold jewellery that represented their life’s savings. They are not refugees fleeing in panic. They are pioneers, volunteers for a great experiment — the world’s first modern Muslim nation. As the train whistles out of Delhi, cheers of “Pakistan Zindabad!” drown out the engine. These men and women believe they are building something unprecedented. Something magnificent. They never arrive. Sikh saboteurs — soldiers in all but name, their tiny community having supplied the Indian Army with fighting men far beyond their numbers — have laid gelignite charges along the tracks. The mine detonates. The Pakistan Special shudders. And in that moment, the euphoria of independence meets the savagery of Partition. Hajari, who spent over a year buried in archives across New Delhi, London, and Washington, D.C., reconstructs this tragedy not from myth but from the “demi-official record” — the diaries, army sitreps, embassy cables, and informant reports that tell the real story. And the real story is this: Pakistan was born not in a garden of roses, but in a furnace. The arithmetic of that furnace defies comprehension. One British official, working from casualty reports, put the dead at 200,000. Others, accounting for disease, starvation, and exposure, insist the figure exceeds one million. At least 14 million people were uprooted — the largest forced migration in human history. Western Pakistan was virtually emptied of Hindus and Sikhs; Indian Punjab lost almost all its Muslims. This was carnage on a scale unseen until Rwanda 1994. Yet here is what Hajari forces us to confront: the killing lasted only six weeks. The violence was contained. What was not contained — what metastasised — was the psychological wound. In those weeks, something broke between India and Pakistan that has never been repaired. Leaders on both sides began suspecting each other of complicity in genocide. Mutual mistrust pushed infant nations to war within a year. And Pakistan, flooded with refugees, its economy and bureaucracy teetering on collapse, developed what Hajari calls a ‘deep-seated paranoia’ about its larger neighbour that shapes our politics to this very day. Hajari’s book is unsparing about the failures of leadership that turned Partition’s trauma into perpetual conflict. Nehru and Jinnah — the very architects of freedom — allowed vanity, prejudice, and petty dislike to poison the well. Nehru’s reckless declaration in August 1946 that a strong government would make the Muslim League’s movement “go down” — what Viceroy Wavell called tossing “a match onto dangerously dry kindling” — helped trigger the Great Calcutta Killing, the dress rehearsal for Partition’s horrors. Five thousand dead. Ten to fifteen thousand maimed. The Statesman newspaper, grasping for words, called it “a fury” — a word from mediaeval history. This Independence Day, let us do something radical. Let us honour the dead not by reliving their fears, but by fulfilling their hopes. Jinnah’s address to the Constituent Assembly on 11 August 1947 was crystal clear: ‘You are free; you are free to go to your temples, you are free to go to your mosques or to any other place of worship in this State of Pakistan.’ He envisioned a secular nation where religion was private, not political. Where Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, and Christians would be equal before the law. Where the state would be a servant of all its citizens, not a weapon of the majority. Hajari’s book ends on a note of hard-won wisdom: ‘Only once those mistakes are properly understood and acknowledged, perhaps, will India and Pakistan begin to bridge the vast and dangerous gulf that still divides them.’ Understanding does not mean surrender. Acknowledgement does not mean apology. It means maturity. It means the confidence to say: we know our history, we honour our sacrifices, and we refuse to let the furies of 1947 dictate our future. So when the flag goes up this 14th August, let it mean something new. Let it mean that Pakistan is done being defined by what it fears. Let it mean that we are ready to be defined by what we build — by our universities and our hospitals, our clean rivers and our fair courts, our poets and our scientists, our daughters who dream without limits and our sons who know that strength comes from justice, not just arms.