stop culture begging

Stop the culture of begging

Begging has become a growing problem in many cities of Pakistan. It is common to see children women and elderly people begging at traffic signals markets and public places.

 

While some are genuinely poor many are forced into organized begging networks that exploit them for money.

Instead of encouraging begging by giving cash, society should support charities, shelters and welfare programs that help people become self reliant.

 

The government must also take strict action against begging mafias provide vocational training and create employment opportunities for those in need.

By addressing the root causes of poverty and exploitation we can help people live with dignity rather than depend on begging

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  • The Geography of Governance

    By Syed Tahir Rashdi  The writer is a Shahdadpur-based contributing columnist, book reviewer, and climate change activist. He holds a BS degree in Pakistan Studies from University of Sindh Pakistan’s debate over new provinces has returned with familiar demands: South Punjab, Bahawalpur, Hazara, Karachi and, periodically, proposals for a more extensive reorganisation of the federation. There are credible arguments behind some of these demands. Population growth, administrative distance, uneven development and the persistence of regional identities have altered the circumstances in which Pakistan’s present provincial arrangement was conceived. Yet the debate tends to proceed from an assumption that deserves greater scrutiny: that creating smaller provinces will, in itself, improve governance. It may. But it may also not. The distinction is important because Pakistan’s principal difficulty has never been simply the size of its administrative units. It has been the weakness, discontinuity and politicisation of the institutions through which those units are governed. This does not make the case for new provinces illegitimate. It does, however, suggest that provincial restructuring should be considered as one component of administrative reform rather than as a substitute for it. Pakistan’s provincial boundaries have never been immutable. The One Unit scheme of 1955 consolidated the western wing into a single province, partly to establish parity between the two wings of the country. It was abolished in 1970, restoring the provinces. The episode remains relevant because it demonstrated the limits of administrative engineering. A territorial arrangement can be imposed constitutionally, but its durability ultimately depends upon political legitimacy. The present debate is considerably more complex. The demand for a South Punjab province contains at least three distinct strands: the historical claim associated with Bahawalpur, the linguistic and cultural politics of Saraiki identity, and the administrative argument that the southern districts have remained distant from the provincial centre in Lahore. There is also the persistent claim of regional economic neglect. These strands should not be conflated. Similarly, the Hazara demand has a strong identity component, while the Karachi question is inseparable from the city’s unusual demographic, economic and political history and the longstanding contest over authority between urban local institutions and the provincial government. The differences matter because different problems require different institutional responses. The Constitution does not make the creation of a new province a matter of political declaration. Article 239 provides a demanding procedure for constitutional amendment, including the approval of the concerned provincial assembly where provincial boundaries are affected. That requirement is not an accidental obstacle. It reflects the logic of federalism: a federation cannot permit the territorial boundaries of one constituent unit to be altered without giving that unit a decisive constitutional voice. The experience of the parliamentary commission on new provinces in 2012 illustrated the complexity of the exercise. Questions of boundaries, resources, representation, administrative structures and constitutional amendments quickly became inseparable from the political question of who would gain or lose influence. That is why the debate deserves to be insulated, as far as possible, from electoral expediency. There is, however, a more fundamental issue that receives considerably less attention. Article 140-A of the Constitution requires provincial governments to establish local government systems and devolve political, administrative and financial responsibility and authority to elected local representatives. This provision goes to the heart of the governance question. A citizen’s encounter with government is rarely with the federal government or even with a provincial assembly. It is with the school, hospital, police station, municipal authority, land office, sanitation service or local administration. Yet local governments in Pakistan have rarely acquired the institutional continuity, fiscal autonomy and political authority envisaged by the Constitution. The result is an unusual form of devolution. The 18th Amendment substantially strengthened the provinces by transferring functions and resources from the federation, but the transfer of authority has often stopped at the provincial level. Islamabad became less dominant. The provinces became stronger. The citizen did not necessarily become more powerful. This is perhaps the most important issue in the new-provinces debate. If a region is suffering because decisions are too distant from its population, the first question should be whether existing institutions can be decentralised before an entirely new tier of government is created. Comparative experience does not provide a universal answer, but it does offer useful cautions. Indonesia’s post-Suharto decentralisation transferred extensive responsibilities to subnational governments. The reform was necessary after decades of centralised rule, but decentralisation itself did not guarantee effective or accountable government. Subsequent reforms had to focus on institutional capacity, fiscal management and local accountability. Nigeria provides another caution. The creation of additional states was partly intended to improve political representation and accommodate regional interests. Yet the country continues to face substantial governance and institutional-capacity problems across its states. The lesson from both cases is not that administrative restructuring is futile. It is that territorial fragmentation and institutional development are different processes. South Africa offers a somewhat different model. Its Constitution explicitly recognises local government as a sphere of government and assigns municipalities constitutional responsibilities relating to democratic participation and service delivery. The significance lies less in the number of provinces than in the distribution of authority among the different levels of government. Switzerland’s federal tradition similarly rests on substantial cantonal and communal autonomy. Its relevance to Pakistan is not institutional imitation but a principle: government functions should be located at the level at which they can be performed most effectively, while higher levels retain responsibilities that require wider coordination. There is therefore no universally correct number of provinces. The appropriate administrative scale depends upon geography, population, fiscal capacity, the nature of the public service and, above all, institutional competence. Pakistan’s governance difficulties are familiar enough to require little elaboration: weak rule of law, politicisation of public institutions, patronage, corruption, uneven accountability, administrative discontinuity and the recurrent weakening of local government. None of these problems disappears when a provincial boundary is moved. A new province may shorten the administrative distance between a region and its provincial capital. It does not automatically make the police independent,

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    Echoes from the Interstellar Dark

    NASA’s Voyager 1 probe was designed to explore the outer giant planets and send back photographs of Jupiter and Saturn. It was launched in 1977. More than eleven billion miles from Earth, floating through the icy void beyond our solar system, a tiny scrap of 1970s human ingenuity continues its lonely journey. Decades after its primary mission ended, the craft crossed the heliopause. The boundary where the sun’s protective magnetic bubble ends and true interstellar space begins. ​In recent months, engineers faced a daunting crisis. Voyager 1 began transmitting a repeating, meaningless gibberish loop of ones and zeros back to Mission Control. For a moment, scientists feared that after nearly half a century of unbroken operation, the farthest human artifact had finally succumbed to cosmic radiation and cold degradation. Yet through meticulous diagnostic work, engineers isolated a corrupt microchip. They rerouted its memory code across ancient hardware.  Hence, they successfully restored intelligible science data across the vast distance. ​Voyager 1’s survival is not just an engineering miracle; it is a profound testament to humanity’s desire to touch the unknown. ​A spindle of wire, a heart made of bronze, It drifts through the night where the quiet responds. Beyond the sun’s breath and the cradle of red, It whispers the secrets of worlds overhead. ​A Message in a Bottle Across Cosmic Waves ​Carried on the hull of Voyager 1 is the Golden Record, a gold-plated copper phonograph disc containing sounds of Earth, greetings in fifty-five languages, musical compositions from Bach to Chuck Berry, and encoded images of terrestrial life. It serves as an interstellar time capsule, intended to outlast our civilization and tell any distant intelligence who we were. ​We carved our desire on golden veneer, To prove in the darkness that someone was here. A chorus of ocean, a child’s brief greeting, Sent out to outlive every mortal heart’s beating. ​As the probe glides through the cosmic dust, its radio signal traveling at the speed of light takes over twenty-two hours to reach dish antennas on Earth. Every line of telemetry received is a faint echo from an environment no human eye will ever witness firsthand. The spacecraft operates on a diminishing power supply provided by its decaying plutonium generators. Year by year, NASA engineers shut down non-essential instruments to conserve every milliwatt of power, prioritizing the magnetometers and cosmic ray sensors that measure the interstellar medium. ​The Final Quiet Crossing ​The remaining active instruments will inevitably power down as the thermal generators fade entirely by the end of this decade. Voyager 1 will then become a silent voyager, drifting along its galactic orbit around the center of the Milky Way, unbothered by atmospheric drag or gravitational interference, lasting for millions of years. ​When the last power flickers and warmth slips away, It will glide through the night till the dawn of no day. No longer a transmitter, no longer a thread, Just a monument floating where gods used to tread. ​The triumph of retrieving clear data from Voyager 1 reminds us why we look up. Science and art stem from the same original impulse: the refusal to remain quiet in the vastness of the dark, and the drive to leave something meaningful behind before the power fades.

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    Shakespeare’s sorcery and silicon valley

    For over four centuries, William Shakespeare’s plays have served for understanding human nature, politics, psychology, and empire. Yet, as scholars Xin Chen Chai and Xin Ying Lim argue, his work offers surprising insights into a decidedly modern phenomenon. The hidden human and physical infrastructure driving artificial intelligence. When millions of users enter prompts into generative AI chatbots every day, the experience feels weightless, instantaneous and virtual. However, behind every generated sentence lies a physical network of high-powered data centers. These facilities consume massive volumes of electricity and millions of gallons of water to cool servers. This illusion of effortless command reflects the dynamic in Shakespeare’s The Tempest. In the play, the exiled duke Prospero rules a remote island through sorcery. He forces the spirit Ariel and the native inhabitant Caliban into servitude. Prospero’s magical feats appear grand and detached from the labor and coercion required to maintain his power. Modern AI systems operate on a similar logic. The seamless magic of AI algorithms obscures the extractive resource demands and physical labor that sustain them. Prospero’s dominance depended on usurping Caliban’s land and subjugating its inhabitants. Similarly, the expansion of tech infrastructure often targets marginalized or rural territories. The reasons are land and natural resources that can be acquired with minimal resistance. A real-world example unfolded within the Mvskoke Nation in Oklahoma. A proposed legislative bill, NCA 25-077, sought to establish the Mvskoke Technology and Innovation Park. The bill was put on the table to bring major data centers to tribal lands. However, Indigenous citizens, including Jordan Harmon and Mackenzie Roberts, showed strong opposition. They highlighted the facilities’ ravenous water and energy consumption. They raised concerns regarding digital surveillance.  Framing the development as a continuation of historical colonial exploitation. Due to community pressure and concerns, the tribal council ultimately rejected the proposal. Postcolonial scholars have long viewed The Tempest as a critique of colonial dynamics. They have  drawn direct parallels between Prospero’s rule and imperial subjugation. In the play, Prospero surrenders his magical powers only after securing his own political goals. It demonstrates that rulers rarely give up power purely out of goodwill.   The successful resistance within the Mvskoke Nation highlights an essential difference between literature and real-life action. Unlike Shakespeare’s characters, real communities are actively demanding accountability from corporate giants. Their resistance demonstrates that the unchecked expansion of data centers is not an inevitable trajectory. By pushing back against resource-extractive technology models, Indigenous and local communities are forcing a necessary public conversation about who truly benefits from artificial intelligence and who pays the hidden costs.

  • Why popcorn explodes when heated

    Popcorn is a favorite snack for people of all ages, especially during movie nights. But have you ever wondered why only certain corn kernels pop while regular corn does not? Food experts say the answer lies in the kernel’s unique structure moisture and the way it reacts to heat. Not all corn can turn into popcorn. A special type of corn called Zea mays everta is used because its kernels have a hard outer shell and a soft starchy center with a small amount of water inside. Although popcorn kernels look dry they contain about 13–15% moisture. When heated, the water inside turns into steam. Since the outer shell is very strong the steam cannot escape causing pressure to build inside the kernel. As the pressure keeps increasing the kernel acts like a tiny pressure cooker. Eventually the shell bursts with a popping sound.  The hot steam quickly escapes and the soft starch inside expands. Within seconds it cools and forms the fluffy crispy popcorn we enjoy.  A popped kernel can become 30 to 40 times larger than its original size. Sometimes a few kernels do not pop. Experts say this usually happens because they do not contain enough moisture to create the pressure needed to burst. Tiny cracks in the outer shell can also let steam escape too early preventing the kernel from popping.  Heating the kernels at a temperature that is too low may also cause them to dry out before enough pressure builds up. Popcorn can be made in several ways including on the stove in an air popper or in a microwave. Microwave popcorn bags and the oil inside them help spread heat evenly while oil on the stove helps heat the kernels more consistently. Air poppers on the other hand use only hot air and do not require oil. According to food scientists the secret behind perfect popcorn is the combination of a strong outer shell the right amount of moisture steam pressure and the natural expansion of starch when heated.

  • Lack of dustbin in Chahsar

    Through the columns of your newspaper, I would like to highlight the lack of proper waste-disposal facilities in Chahsar, Turbat. There are very few large dustbins placed along the roads where residents can dispose of household garbage and in many areas people have no nearby option at all. At present, only a few such dustbins can be found in the locality which is insufficient for a large and growing population. Dustbins should be placed at reasonable intervals, perhaps around every 40 metres in populated areas, so that residents can keep their surroundings clean and the waste can be collected regularly by municipal trucks. If there is no designated place to dispose of household waste people are left with very limited choices, and garbage inevitably ends up on roadsides or vacant plots. The concerned authorities are requested to increase the number of dustbins in Chahsar and ensure their regular collection. Clean surroundings require not only public responsibility but also proper municipal facilities.

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    European colonization brought smallpox to the Americas

    Historians have believed that the collapse of Indigenous populations across the Americas was triggered largely by smallpox. The historical manuscripts and missionary chronicles provided detailed eyewitness reports of these devastating outbreaks. Molecular proof links colonial-era American epidemics directly to Old World viral strains remained elusive. Now, a study published in the journal Science provides the definitive genetic confirmation researchers have sought for generations. It’s led by geneticists at Trinity College Dublin in collaboration with biological anthropologists at the Universidad de Chile. Researchers have successfully extracted and sequenced the oldest known smallpox viral genomes ever recovered in the Americas. The ancient viral DNA was retrieved from the naturally mummified remains of two individuals buried in northern Chile during the early Spanish colonial era. The viral samples were recovered from bone fragments belonging to an adult woman (aged 30 to 35) and a young man (aged 18 to 20) buried near Camarones Cove. A coastal site in northern Chile that once marked the southern reaches of the Inca Empire. The individuals had been naturally preserved by the hyper-arid climate. They’re wrapped in camelid wool blankets and interred in traditional cloth bundles. Scientists initially analyzed DNA from 13 individuals excavated at the site. They were searching for ancient bacterial infections such as tuberculosis. Instead, they discovered preserved traces of the variola virus. Guess what? It’s the deadly pathogen responsible for smallpox. Radiocarbon analysis alongside molecular clock estimates revealed that both individuals died between 1492 and 1631 CE. The violent era of Spanish conquest led by conquistadors like Francisco Pizarro. Because the two viral genomes recovered from the mummies were virtually identical, geneticists concluded that both individuals likely succumbed to the same localized outbreak or were infected by the same circulating viral strain.  Evolutionary Trajectory of a Global Killer When researchers mapped the newly recovered genetic sequences onto a global evolutionary tree of smallpox, the results were unequivocal. The Chilean viral strain positioned directly between medieval European strains. The strains included those previously recovered from Viking-era human remains and later 17th- to 19th-century strains circulating in Europe. This placement provides molecular evidence that the virus was introduced to Indigenous American communities from the Old World. The study yielded surprising insights into how pathogens evolve when introduced to vulnerable host populations. The variola virus originally evolved from a animal-host (zoonotic) pathogen. It was undergoing extensive genetic alteration up through the 16th century as it adapted to human hosts. Surprisingly, the virus’s rate of genetic change slowed dramatically during the peak colonial expansion of the 17th and 18th centuries. Researchers hypothesize that Indigenous populations lacked any pre-existing immunity. So, the virus had reached an evolutionary optimum. It could spread effortlessly without needing further genetic adaptation. The virus’s evolution accelerated once again in the late 18th and 19th centuries. It was after the introduction of Edward Jenner’s smallpox vaccine in 1796. Therefore, the evolutionary pressure forced the pathogen to adapt once more. Why This Discovery Matters Today Smallpox stands as one of the deadliest infectious diseases in human history. It has claimed hundreds of millions of lives over millennia before its official eradication in 1980 through global vaccination efforts. In the Americas, the disease inflicted physical casualties. The virus also shattered social structures and morale. The rapid disfigurement and death led communities to feel overwhelmed by forces they could neither treat nor comprehend. This discovery demonstrates the immense power of ancient DNA research. Tracing how pathogen evolution interacts with human migration, population immunity, and public health interventions provides critical context for understanding modern infectious disease threats today.  

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