Nawaz Sharif’s political revival has begun — a…

The Indus river, long considered the jugular vein of the people of Sindh, is under assault. The construction of the Jalalpur irrigation canal — and its trial commencement — has gone ahead despite Sindh’s stiff opposition last year, voiced through a peaceful protest movement that carried the province’s strong resentment and anger to the federation. Sindh’s political forces have raised serious concerns and reservations over Punjab’s decision to commence trial operations of the Jalalpur canal, even as the constitutional dispute over new canal projects and Sindh’s water rights remains unresolved. Sindh is already grappling with acute water shortages, the destruction of the Indus Delta, and the collapse of its agricultural economy. To proceed with new upstream canal projects under these conditions is unacceptable to the people of Sindh and amounts to an assault on the rights of the lower riparian province. There is no denying that agriculture is the livelihood of the majority of Sindh’s people, and that this agriculture depends entirely on river water — the Indus being its only source. The crops, fruits, vegetables, and sweet drinking water that sustain Sindh all owe their existence to this one river. Without the Indus, there would have been neither Sindh nor its thousands-year-old civilization. The Sindh government must record its protest before the federal government and urge it to immediately convene a meeting of the Council of Common Interests, taking every constitutional measure available to halt the project. Sadly, we have learnt nothing from our past mistakes and blunders. Why do we remain wedded to narrow-mindedness and shortsighted thinking bound to destroy our very existence? Will this policy bring us success and standing in the comity of nations? Why are our so-called champions of democracy and constitutional supremacy more inclined toward injustice than fair treatment? Will this serve the cause of our unity? The constitution obliges the federal government to convene a meeting of the Council of Common Interests at least once every three months. Yet the federation seems more preoccupied with resolving international conflicts than with addressing the issues confronting the country and defusing tensions between its federating units — even though the latter bear more directly on national stability. Our government strongly condemns India’s aggressive weaponisation of water under Modi. Yet it shows no equal readiness to ensure the judicious and fair distribution of water among its own federating units, as mandated by the Indus River System Authority (IRSA). The construction of the Jalalpur canal in Punjab, in flagrant breach of the decisions taken at last year’s CCI meeting — decisions reached only after massive protests and a strong outcry across Sindh — amounts to diverting Sindh’s water to irrigate the barren lands of its “big brother,” at Sindh’s expense. Unless decisions reached by consensus are implemented in letter and spirit, for the good of the country as a whole, the differences between the federation and the provinces will only widen rather than ease. The Indus, the very source of survival for the people of Sindh, should never be pushed to the wall. Depriving Sindh of its legitimate right to the river, again and again, risks shattering the very foundations of the state. No government has the authority to compromise Azhar Azad crisis and further erode confidence in the federation.

History does not become inevitable merely because it happened The Partition of British India is frequently narrated backwards. Because India and Pakistan emerged as separate states in August 1947, every disagreement preceding their creation is treated as another step towards an unavoidable conclusion. Political demands become fixed destinies, failed negotiations appear predestined to fail, and the violence accompanying the transfer of power is presented as the inevitable consequence of ancient communal hostility. The documentary record examined in this series suggests a different conclusion. To ask whether Partition was inevitable is, in fact, to combine three distinct questions. Was the political division of British India unavoidable? Was the accelerated timetable chosen for the transfer of power unavoidable? Was the mass displacement and violence accompanying Partition unavoidable? These questions are related, but they do not admit the same answer. The constitutional division of India was not historically inevitable from the beginning of the anti-colonial struggle. Competing political visions existed, but so did repeated attempts to accommodate them. The possibility of a united constitutional order survived the Lahore Resolution, the Cripps Mission and even the failure of the Simla Conference. The Cabinet Mission Plan of 1946 came remarkably close to obtaining acceptance from both Congress and the Muslim League by proposing a weak centre, autonomous provinces and compulsory provincial groupings. That arrangement might have survived; it might also have collapsed under the weight of its own ambiguities. History cannot establish with certainty what would have happened under a constitutional plan that was never fully implemented. It can establish that an alternative existed and that, for a brief period, both principal political parties considered it preferable to immediate Partition. The collapse of that opportunity did not result from one sentence, one leader or one political organisation. Congress feared that compulsory groupings would weaken the future Union and prevent the construction of an effective national government. The Muslim League feared that Congress would use its strength in the Constituent Assembly to dismantle the safeguards upon which Muslim-majority provinces had relied. British negotiators used ambiguity to secure agreement but failed to create a mechanism capable of resolving the conflicting interpretations that followed. Political trust disappeared faster than constitutional ingenuity could replace it. By early 1947, division had become increasingly probable. The Cabinet Mission framework had collapsed, the interim government was paralysed, communal violence had spread and the principal political parties no longer shared a common conception of India’s constitutional future. An increasingly probable outcome, however, is not the same as an historically predetermined one. It was the cumulative product of decisions taken, compromises rejected, assurances doubted and opportunities lost. The Second World War had accelerated this process. Britain’s strategic dependence upon India strengthened the bargaining positions of Indian political parties while weakening imperial authority. Congress demanded effective power and national independence. The Muslim League used the altered constitutional balance to secure recognition of Muslims as a political nation. The Communist Party of India (CPI), approaching the question from an entirely different intellectual tradition, acknowledged the “just essence” of the Pakistan demand through the principle of national self-determination. Muslim intellectuals were simultaneously debating what Pakistan would mean. The discussions in Tarjuman-ul-Qur’an and Tolu-e-Islam demonstrated that support for a Muslim homeland did not produce agreement about the nature of the future state. The political demand for Pakistan and the constitutional content of Pakistan were related questions, but they were never identical. British policy also evolved. The Raj did not simply devise Partition according to a predetermined imperial design. Nor can it be treated as a neutral referee unable to influence events. British constitutional arrangements had shaped political representation, while wartime policy altered the balance between Congress and the Muslim League. Cripps introduced the possibility that provinces might remain outside a future Union. Simla exposed the struggle over who could represent Indian Muslims. The Cabinet Mission attempted to preserve unity through decentralisation. Mountbatten ultimately concluded that division offered the fastest route to British withdrawal. Responsibility was therefore differentiated, but it was not absent. Congress and the Muslim League made decisions with consequences they could not fully control. British authorities retained formal power, controlled the timetable and supervised the division of the state. Provincial governments failed to protect vulnerable communities. Communal organisations, militias and local groups transformed political antagonism into killings, abductions and forced migration. Ordinary Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs, most of whom had exercised no influence over constitutional negotiations, paid the greatest price. This brings us to the second question. Even if political Partition had become unavoidable by the middle of 1947, was its hurried implementation equally unavoidable? The evidence permits a firmer answer. Britain had initially announced that power would be transferred by June 1948. Mountbatten brought the date forward to August 1947. This acceleration left only weeks to divide provinces, assets, armed forces, civil services, railways, irrigation systems and administrative records. The boundary awards were disclosed after the new states had formally come into existence. Political leaders could reasonably fear that prolonged uncertainty would intensify disorder, but haste was a choice made within difficult circumstances, not an irresistible law of history. The third question concerns the violence itself. No provision of the Indian Independence Act ordered a compulsory exchange of populations. Nothing in constitutional separation required refugee trains to become moving graveyards, women to be abducted or families to abandon ancestral homes. Violence arose from fear, organised attacks, retaliatory killings, administrative collapse and the failure to provide adequate security. Its precise course could not have been predicted, but its scale was not constitutionally necessary. The tragedy was therefore greater than Partition. It lay in the manner in which Partition was conceived, accelerated and implemented. The Indian Independence Act legally created two Dominions, but independence did not immediately erase the institutions of empire. Section 8 allowed the governmental machinery of the Government of India Act, 1935, as adapted, to continue until the new Dominions framed their own constitutions. Pakistan would remain governed under that inherited framework until its first Constitution came into force in 1956. Political sovereignty

When Henrik Ibsen wrote A Doll’s House in 1879, Europe was not prepared for Nora Helmer’s final act, where she left her husband. The sound of a woman shutting the door on her husband and children became one of the most controversial moments in literary history. To nineteenth-century society, the idea that a wife could leave an unhappy marriage was not merely immoral; it was considered an attack on the very foundation of civilization itself: the marriage. The reaction was so intense that German theatre managers forced Ibsen to change the ending. In the revised version, Nora looks at her sleeping children, collapses emotionally, and stays in the marriage. Society wanted the family preserved at all costs. Marriage was sacred. Separation was shameful. A woman’s identity was expected to remain tied to sacrifice, endurance, and silence. More than a century later, something similar is unfolding in Pakistan, particularly in Islamabad. According to recent reports, family courts in Islamabad are facing an unprecedented rise in khula and maintenance cases. More than 45,000 khula-related cases have reportedly already been filed this year, with over 300 new cases emerging daily. The number of family disputes continues to rise, reaching 100,000 cases in 2025. Alongside this trend, court marriages have also increased significantly, many ending in disputes soon after marriage. This phenomenon is often discussed only through statistics or social criticism. Yet beneath these numbers lies a deeper sociological transformation, one that history has witnessed before: a doll’s house. The most striking aspect is not the increase in divorce. It is the change in social attitudes toward marriage itself. Pakistan today appears to be experiencing debates that Europe confronted more than one hundred years ago. In traditional Pakistani society, much like Victorian Europe, marriage has long been treated as sacred, permanent, and socially untouchable. Previous generations often viewed separation as failure, dishonour, or rebellion against family values. Women were expected to tolerate emotional hardship, neglect, incompatibility, and sometimes even abuse for the sake of preserving the household structure. This is precisely the social environment that Nora challenged in A Doll’s House. At the time, audiences were horrified not because Nora committed a crime, but because she chose herself over an unhappy domestic life. Society could forgive a flawed husband more easily than it could accept a woman leaving the marriage altogether. Her departure symbolized individual dignity over social expectation. Today, in Islamabad’s family courts, one can observe echoes of the same historical transformation. Increasingly, people, particularly women, are refusing to remain in marriages they perceive as emotionally unbearable, unequal, or destructive. Whether one agrees with this shift or not, it represents a visible social reality. This does not necessarily mean that society has abandoned the institution of marriage. Rather, it may indicate that expectations from marriage are changing. Earlier generations often prioritized endurance and collective family reputation. Modern generations increasingly prioritize emotional compatibility, respect, mental peace, and personal autonomy. The pace of this transition, however, varies across societies. Europe underwent these debates gradually through industrialization, feminism, legal reform, and changing gender roles over decades. Pakistan, by contrast, is witnessing social change at a much faster pace due to urbanization, education, digital connectivity, economic pressures, and shifting cultural narratives. Ideas that once took generations to spread now travel instantly through social media, television, and global interaction. This is why the comparison with Ibsen’s drama becomes deeply relevant. History does not repeat itself in identical forms, but human societies often move through similar psychological and cultural stages. The same fears once expressed in nineteenth-century Europe, that family systems would collapse, morality would disappear, and social order would weaken, are now frequently heard in discussions within Pakistan. Yet it is important to approach this issue carefully and honestly. Recognizing this social transformation does not automatically mean celebrating divorce, nor does it mean condemning marriage. It simply means acknowledging that societies evolve, and that concepts once considered absolute eventually become contested. The sanctity of marriage remains deeply important for millions of families in Pakistan. At the same time, increasing numbers of individuals no longer believe that preserving a marriage at any cost is always the highest social virtue. Perhaps the real lesson from A Doll’s House is not about encouraging separation, but about understanding how societies react when individuals begin demanding dignity, identity and personal autonomy within family life. More than a century ago, Europe feared Nora’s door slam. Today, Pakistan is hearing similar sounds, not from theatre stages, but from courtrooms and homes. Whether this transformation strengthens or weakens society remains a question for future generations. But one thing is undeniable: social change, once it begins, rarely moves backward.

“Nato is a giant military alliance where there are 32 countries. We have started here as three countries and we have to take very humble but concrete steps”—Makkah defence pact technically same as Nato’s Article 5: Turkish minister, The News, August 9, 2026 The above words of Turkish Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan deserve careful attention. Speaking after the Makkah Joint Defence Agreement between Türkiye, Pakistan and Saudi Arabia, he went considerably further than the diplomatic language normally accompanying defence cooperation. He described the arrangement as technically the same as NATO’s Article 5 principle of collective defence. More importantly, Fidan disclosed something about its intended institutional evolution. A ministerial committee resembling NATO’s structure is to be created, a permanent secretariat will be established in Saudi Arabia, and President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan does not envisage an organisation permanently confined to its three founding members. Egypt is already being mentioned as a possible entrant. The question we raised immediately after Makkah has therefore acquired greater urgency: are we witnessing the embryonic formation of an Islamic NATO? The answer requires more caution than either celebration or alarm. The Makkah agreement is unquestionably important. Saudi Arabia combines enormous financial and energy resources with a pivotal position in the Arab and Islamic worlds. Türkiye possesses NATO’s second-largest military, an increasingly sophisticated defence-industrial base and strategic access linking Europe, the Black Sea, the Mediterranean and the Middle East. Pakistan is a nuclear-armed state located at the intersection of South Asia, China, Central Asia, Iran and the Arabian Sea. Taken together, the three constitute an unusual coalition of middle powers. Their convergence is also occurring at a moment when the regional order constructed around American predominance is under extraordinary strain. The latest Middle Eastern war has again demonstrated that overwhelming military capability can destroy infrastructure and degrade adversaries without necessarily producing political order. Michael Fuchs recently argued in Foreign Affairs that the United States should finally relinquish its attempt to dominate the Middle East militarily. The proposition is important, but it raises a larger question. If American primacy recedes, what replaces it? International relations offers no reason to assume that withdrawal by a dominant external power automatically produces regional peace. It can produce strategic autonomy. It can equally produce competitive balancing, arms races and struggles among regional powers seeking to fill the resulting space. Makkah Defence Agreement represents both an opportunity and a danger. The opportunity is the emergence of indigenous collective security. For much of the modern history of the Middle East, regional states have depended upon external powers for protection while simultaneously fearing abandonment by those same protectors. Britain once performed this role in the Gulf. The United States subsequently constructed a much larger military architecture based upon bases, arms supplies, bilateral guarantees and partnerships. Dependence created security, but never complete strategic autonomy. Saudi Arabia’s search for alternatives must be understood against this background. Türkiye has followed another path: remaining inside NATO while steadily expanding its capacity for independent action. Pakistan maintains a strategic partnership with China without severing its relationships with Washington, Riyadh or Ankara. These are not states simply changing camps. They are practising what contemporary scholarship increasingly describes as hybrid or non-exclusive alignment: cultivating overlapping relationships rather than accepting the rigid binaries of Cold War alliance politics. This makes Fidan’s second assertion as important as his comparison with Article 5. He insists that Makkah is not directed against Iran or any other country. That principle must survive implementation. An alliance requires deterrence; it does not necessarily require a permanent enemy. If the emerging arrangement becomes an anti-Iran coalition, it will institutionalise one of the Muslim world’s most dangerous fault lines. Iran is not a temporary presence in the Gulf. It is a major civilisation and regional power whose geography cannot be altered by sanctions, regime change strategies or military pressure. Pakistan has particular reason to understand this. Iran is its neighbour. Internal sectarian peace, Balochistan, border security, Afghanistan and regional connectivity all make a permanently hostile Pakistan-Iran relationship strategically irrational. Nor should Makkah become simply the Muslim military response to Israel. The Palestinian question cannot be removed from regional security, as proponents of the Abraham Accords sometimes appeared to assume. Normalisation and economic integration cannot indefinitely substitute for a political settlement guaranteeing Palestinian rights and viable statehood. At the same time, transforming the region into two permanent military camps would hardly produce the peace Palestinians themselves require. The better possibility is, thus, not an Islamic NATO in the literal sense. NATO emerged from the particular conditions of post-war Europe and bipolar confrontation with the Soviet Union. The Muslim world is geographically dispersed, politically heterogeneous and internally divided. Its states have very different relations with Washington, Beijing, Moscow, Tehran and Tel Aviv. Türkiye itself demonstrates the difficulty of imposing a binary model: it would simultaneously belong to NATO and to the emerging Makkah Accord. That apparent contradiction may actually tell us something important about the international order now taking shape. The twenty-first century may be characterised less by fixed blocs than by overlapping arrangements through which middle powers seek room for manoeuvre between larger powers. This is also where geoeconomics becomes indispensable. Saudi finance and energy, Türkiye’s manufacturing and defence technology and Pakistan’s geography, human resources and access towards China, Central Asia and the Arabian Sea could create something considerably more important than another military organisation. Egypt’s eventual participation would add the Suez Canal, the Arab world’s largest population and another major military power. A security structure built around such capabilities could eventually support trade, energy corridors, defence production, technological cooperation, food security and infrastructure connectivity. Without this economic foundation, an Islamic NATO would remain largely an exercise in military coordination. China will watch these developments closely. Beijing requires Gulf energy, values Iran, has deep interests in Pakistan and maintains substantial economic relations across the Middle East. It is unlikely to wish to inherit America’s expensive role as regional military hegemon. A regional arrangement capable of providing stability without forcing states into an

God had bestowed a vast and expansive empire upon Tsar Nicholas II. He was the King of Russia. He had only one son, who was born with a disease called hemophilia. This is a disease due to which the body’s ability to clot blood decreases; even a small wound causes excessive bleeding, placing the patient’s life in severe danger. The child was treated, but there was no improvement. One day, the famous Russian occultist Rasputin reached the child and performed some specific practices; astonishingly, the child recovered. Empress Alexandra was deeply impressed by this act and accepted Rasputin as her spiritual guide (Peer). The Empress not only provided him residence in the royal palace but also began taking his advice on state affairs. Rasputin was an extremely clever man. Through his words and practices, he captivated the royal family. When the First World War began in 1914, Russia suffered significant losses. Nicholas II left to take command of the army, because of which Empress Alexandra’s reliance on Rasputin increased further, and Rasputin also began taking an interest in political affairs. Gradually, he bound the King and the royal family within the spell of his words, and now he began interfering fully in the affairs of the country. Government ministers were unhappy with Rasputin’s immense popularity but were forced to accept his decisions. However, the public openly began criticizing the royal family because Rasputin was considered a corrupt person. This process continued in this manner. He would get his favored people appointed to important positions, because of which corruption reached its peak in the country; finally, the vessel of the public’s patience overflowed, and in 1917, protests began against the government. The royal family was still a follower of Rasputin, the result of which turned out to be very horrific. Public wrath intensified, Tsar Nicholas II was assassinated, and his regime was overthrown. The central character of this exemplary story was Rasputin, who, by conquering the minds of the royal family, made them make decisions as a result of which the world’s largest empire was destroyed. When an individual becomes so influenced by someone’s words or by a captivating sight that they forget everything and get lost in it, and their logical mind stops working, this state is called the “Alpha State.” In this condition, brain waves move at a specific speed and focus the individual’s attention on a single point. Taking advantage of this very state, certain short-sighted individuals fill the minds of innocent people with negative thoughts and incite them toward destruction. Rasputin’s example is the negative side of the “Alpha State”; however, it also has a positive side, which, if we learn to use, can yield astonishing results. There are five states of the mind, which in mind sciences are called Beta, Alpha, Theta, Delta, Gamma. Beta is the state of waking, in which we perform daily tasks. Alpha is the state of drowsiness and physical and mental relaxation. Theta is the state of sleep. Delta is the state of deep sleep, while Gamma is the state of extreme focus. In the Gamma state, a human can perform mental activities in a full-fledged manner. The Alpha State is the name of the intermediate condition between wakefulness and sleep (drowsiness). It acts as a bridge between the conscious and subconscious state. In this state, the brain’s alpha waves are between 8 to 12 Hertz. After reaching the Alpha State, a human’s brain and body become synchronized, the brain accepts things quickly, and the individual can organize their thoughts and memories in a better way. The “Alpha State” is a state of peace. When we were in the mother’s womb, even then we were in the “Alpha State.” There, all our needs were met, and we were free from all kinds of worries. The world’s greatest creation occurs in the “Alpha State.” Look at music. Behind other creations, there is some preparation or another, whereas music is something behind which there is nothing; a thought suddenly comes to the musician’s mind, and from it, a melody begins to form. This work also occurs in the Alpha State. Communication becomes very easy in the Alpha State. If you want to see an excellent example of this, look at the relationship between a mother and child. Sometimes the child is many miles away from the mother, but even without any contact, the mother senses their pain. In daily life, we pass through this condition many times. For instance, while watching a movie, we get completely lost in a scene; sometimes while reading a novel, we begin to consider ourselves a character of that very novel and become oblivious to our surroundings. Sometimes the words of a sweet-tongued speaker mesmerize us. Sometimes a beautiful sight captures us in its spell. It is said that a snake and flowing water also hypnotize humans. All these conditions are of the “Alpha State,” and whatever message enters the brain in this state becomes a part of our personality. Our brain keeps running all the time. It runs our senses. For example, if the eyes close, the brain becomes alert. To assess the situation, it instructs the ears to strengthen the process of hearing and assess what is happening. If the ears also close, it increases the capacity of smell, taste, and touch. In short, until it is satisfied that there is no danger, it does not become peaceful. Remaining alert all the time is not good for psychological and mental health; therefore, it is necessary for a human to go into the Alpha State for some time and make their brain peaceful. In today’s writing, we will try to clarify to what extent we can achieve the best results from the correct use of the “Alpha State.” First of all, it is necessary to understand how we can enter the “Alpha State” voluntarily. The easy way to enter the Alpha State is meditation. Sit in a comfortable place and take deep breaths. Focus your attention