“I invite all other Pakistani television networks, including Hum, Geo and Green, to bring their content to the ARY Plus app and become part of the world’s largest Urdu streaming platform. If they have a problem with the word ‘ARY’ being part of the app’s name, I can remove it and we can call it Plus.”

— Salman Iqbal, President & CEO, ARY Digital Network

“Hania Aamir’s song ‘Pablo’ is a banger. I think she is an amazing artist. People from South Asia, especially Pakistanis, need to view music more as a form of expression and not as a Pakistan Idol judge. Seriously.”

— Asim Azhar, singer

“Faryal Gohar should not have defamed Jamal Shah at this age. He is such a wonderful person. And how can someone keep such an educated woman caged?”

— Saba Faisal, actor

“Who is Saba Faisal?

I don’t know her.

I don’t own a TV.

Is she an actress?”

— Faryal Gohar, actor

Published in Dawn, ICON, September 27th, 2026

Last year, Shae Gill, the singer with a velvety voice, came out with a track titled ‘Insecurity’. It was liked by all and sundry. Recently, actress Hania Aamir forayed into the world of music with a song titled ‘Pablo’. Many believe the track’s content and style was inspired by Shae G’s number. Shae G then posted a video on social media with an acoustic version of ‘Insecurity’ to mark the anniversary of the song. Netizens thought she was trying to diss Hania A. Shae G promptly replied, “I don’t understand how that equals a diss? I can’t explain myself in every comment. Jisay gana enjoy karna hai karay, jisay drama banana hai banaye [whoever wants to enjoy the song can enjoy it, whoever wants to create drama can do that].” Well, to be honest, we like having a bit of drama now and then.

The 98 Percent Rule

Actress and model Sunita Marshall recently highlighted an extremely important issue. She says 98 percent of men [in the Subcontinent] mock their wives in front of other people. She thinks that this happens because of the way they are conditioned in our society to view women as lesser beings. We think Sunita M makes a valid point. It is indeed something that needs to be rectified and has no place in contemporary times. However, we do wonder: where did she come up with the figure 98 percent… Does she have someone working for her as a data gatherer?

Runway Romance?

Hollywood hottie Dakota Johnson seems to have another — or shall we say — a new man in her life. We are referring to rapper MGK (Machine Gun Kelly) in this case. Not too long ago, the two were seen together in New York. However, at the time, gossipmongers didn’t attach much importance to them walking side by side. On September 22, however, things took a wee bit of a serious turn when MGK, whose real name is Colson Baker, walked the runway at Milan Fashion Week while Dakota J sat in the front row, watching him do what a model is supposed to do, with starry eyes. For the two of them, things appear to be moving machine-gun fast on the romantic front, though neither has confirmed anything.

Footie King

The teaser and trailer for Shah Rukh Khan’s eagerly awaited film King didn’t hit social media as soon as people expected. The king of Bollywood finally explained why. While interacting with fans on X, he informed them, “Had a few injuries while shooting, so had to start, stop many times, but now all broken is fixed and nearly all done, so all good. Taking time to put our best foot forward so you all enjoy it and feel proud and happy with it.” We’re glad that SRK and his team have decided to put their best foot forward. Certainly beats putting a foot in the mouth.

Spidey’s Super Haul

Spider-Man: Brand New Day is proving to be a mega money-making venture for Marvel Studios. The film, starring Tom Holland and Zendaya, has surpassed Star Wars: The Force Awakens in North American box-office history. It has earned $936.773 million in the span of 47 days in theatres, whereas Star Wars: The Force Awakens has raked in $936.662 million since its release in 2015. It’s also become the third highest grossing film of all time, with a haul of $2.48 billion worldwide. That is huge! Especially given the fact that it’s not even the best Spider-Man movie made.

Tilly Goes Rogue

On September 18, something really strange happened on the popular YouTube show Piers Morgan Uncensored. The host, Piers Morgan, invited British actor Tom Conti and AI-generated actress Tilly Norwood, who was there to plug her film, Misaligned. During the programme, Tom C asked Tilly N whether the other actors who worked with her in the movie were also AI-generated. She didn’t get the query and said all writers, directors and editors involved in the project were human. The British actor had to repeat his question. Things took a weird turn when Tilly N suddenly started speaking Chinese. It confused everyone. After a while, Piers M asked why she had switched languages. She apologised and reasoned it was a “little hiccup” and that sometimes her “wires” get crossed. Hmmm… As long as that’s the worst and it takes some time for AI to go Terminator on us.

Published in Dawn, ICON, September 27th, 2026

Susanne Bier (Bird Box, Serena) takes over from Griffin Dunne as director, but magically retains the original’s warm sentimentality. Credit this, perhaps, to returning screenwriter Akiva Goldsman (A Beautiful Mind) and new writing partners Georgia Pritchett (Veep) and Kelly Marcel (Venom trilogy). The film feels like a direct continuation, hampered marginally by over-lit lighting and a second-half lifted from a formulaic young adult novel.

I haven’t read Alice Hoffman’s novels, so I can’t say what happens in The Book of Magic, the fourth in her series. Given how the story moves and how scenes take shape, one expects changes aplenty. Again, for the most part, not complaining.

Love, it seems, cannot conquer all, and the Owens women are still as cursed as ever, with any man who falls in love with one destined to die within a few years.

Twenty-eight years on, the Owens sisters return in Practical Magic 2 — a nostalgic sequel that recaptures much of the original’s warmth, even if parts of it lose some of its magic

Sally Owens (Sandra Bullock), believing she had broken the curse in Practical Magic, still loses her husband, Gary (Aidan Quinn). Grief-stricken, like her ancestor Maria (Caprice Benedetti), the original witch who lost her lover, Sally casts a spell to lock her powers and make her daughters, Kylie (Joey King) and Antonia (Maisie Williams), forget their magical heritage, hoping the curse will not affect them. Sally’s naivety comes at a cost when she can no longer hear the deathwatch beetle’s ticking and clicking, foretelling death (an omen witches can hear).

Meanwhile, Jet (Dianne Wiest), one of Sally’s aunts (Stockard Channing plays the other aunt, Francis), finds the hidden The Book of Raven, which holds the secret to ending the curse.

The timing couldn’t be more opportune: Kylie’s boyfriend Gideon (Xolo Maridueña) confesses his love, only to be struck by a car and left in critical condition. With Antonia tending to him — she is studying to become a neurosurgeon — Kylie steals the book and heads to the UK to break the curse and revive Gideon.

Sally and her carefree sister Gillian (Nicole Kidman) chase Kylie, finding Ian (Lee Pace) — an academic with occult tattoos who practises witchcraft — in a near-death condition because of a powerful curse. The three search for Kylie, and this is where the film dips.

Villains from the Owens family’s past are revealed with little empathy or foreshadowing from the writers or director. The story takes a couple of unconvincing turns, streamlining, simplifying and dumbing itself down for pace and clarity. The decisions push the film squarely into young adult territory.

Slapped with a hasty but sentimental culmination that recalls the first film’s ending — perhaps to make one forget the last 20 minutes — one can overlook its middle-act missteps, because the production and cast remain as fine as in the first film.

Having just rewatched the original Practical Magic, one appreciates the near-seamless tonal and emotional continuation between the two films. Wiest, Channing, Bullock — with her klutzy comedic timing — and Kidman, all looking remarkably good for their ages, play the Owens women like a family. Though Williams and Channing are short-changed, the bond of love within this coven/family of witches, coupled with Bier’s assured directorial grip, makes Practical Magic 2 a good, though not great, nostalgic continuation.

Pulling off such a film is practically magic, in my opinion.

Playing in cinemas, Practical Magic 2 is released by Warner Bros and HKC with a U/A censor certificate for mild scenes of intimacy — the kind that cuts away at just the right time

The writer is Icon’s primary film reviewer

Published in Dawn, ICON, September 27th, 2026

Full disclosure: I have been a fan of Call My Agent! since 2015, when I saw the first two episodes at a small festival in Brides-les-Bains, a spa town in the French Alps. The event was organised by agent-turned-producer Dominique Besnehard, who was showing the episodes ahead of their first airing on French TV.

Having spent eight years getting the project off the ground, Besnehard was anxious to know whether French audiences would like it. They did. The series ran for four seasons, was picked up by Netflix and critically well-received. It won several French TV awards and an International Emmy, with its formula later reproduced in the UK, Germany, Italy and Spain, among others. Now comes the movie.

In the series, written by talented showrunner Fanny Herrero who also wrote the film, we observe the workings of Parisian casting agency ASK (modelled on Artmedia, where Besnehard worked) in light comedy mode. Agents match “the talent” with film projects, while coping with actorly egos, affairs, meltdowns and tantrums. The series’ key concept was to mix the fictional agency staff with real-life celebrities making fun of themselves.

Many major stars were reluctant to join the first series. There was no Catherine Deneuve or Gérard Depardieu, possibly for the best in the latter’s case (in the new film, his name is met with stony silence). Fans had to wait for seasons two and three to see A-listers like Juliette Binoche, Isabelle Huppert and Jean Dujardin and season four for Charlotte Gainsbourg, Jean Reno and American actress Sigourney Weaver (playing a diva version of herself). In turn, the success of the series brought fame to its actors, especially Camille Cottin (Andréa) and Laure Calamy (Noémie).

The beloved French series Call My Agent! made stars its secret weapon. But its move from television to the big screen struggles to recapture the magic

There is evidence that great series do not automatically produce brilliant movies — see The Avengers (1998), Miami Vice (2006) and Sex and the City (2008). So could Call My Agent! pull off a movie version?

The one-star problem

Season Four of the series ended on the break-up of ASK. Five years on, the film picks up with Andréa about to direct her first full-length feature film and Noémie producing a TV series. Both work in the same company as their former boss, Mathias (Thibault de Montalembert), who is also Noémie’s partner. Predictably, things go awry.

Andréa’s star, Laurent Lafitte, drops out and she sacks her producer. After Noémie (who steps in as producer) wrecks the possibility of casting George Clooney by making a series of cringeworthy remarks that incense the Hollywood star, they recruit Vincent Macaigne, who plays a reputed but fragile version of himself.

Things go from bad to worse when they all move to the south of France for the shoot, with lead actors punching each other, an unruly wild boar and a storm that destroys the equipment.

For fans of the series, there is fun to be had in the familiar banter among the team of former agents reunited for Andréa’s shoot. Each plays up to their established identity: Mathias continues to be a cad; Andréa bullies everyone while fighting with her lesbian ex-partner over their daughter; Noémie’s chaotic energy hides her professional skills; straight Gabriel (Grégory Montel) and gay Hervé (Nicolas Maury) channel their vulnerable masculinity; and veteran Arlette (Liliane Rovère) reveals more of her improbably eventful past.

The problem, not just for Andréa’s film but also the second half of Call My Agent! The Movie, is the featured “star”.

The reason for the series’ success, beyond gossipy shenanigans at a casting agency, is its deep roots in French cinema history. Sustaining 24 episodes is a rich film culture, with stars ranging from internet celebrities (Norman) to international figures (Binoche), auteur cinema divas (Isabelle Adjani), TV stars (Muriel Robin), comics (Franck Dubosc), the old (Guy Marchand) and the young (Julien Doré).

Boiling this down to one star in one film was a challenge to which Macaigne is not the solution. The film, which showcases Macaigne’s trademark depressive persona, never gives him an opportunity to display his craft — he is upstaged by both the wild boar and the storm.

Meanwhile, the input of his co-lead, former model Laetitia Casta, amounts to being punched on the nose. The “joke” that the policemen who arrest the couple at a demonstration do not recognise them may be a little close to the bone.

To attain major stardom in France, actors must straddle the rarefied world of auteur cinema and popular genres — as is the case, indeed, for Lafitte, who would have been an ideal star but unfortunately drops out of Andréa’s film. (In real life, Lafitte is an alumnus of the prestigious Comédie-Française theatre who stars in both art movies and popular comedies.)

As a result, despite glamorous cameos by Clooney and Eva Longoria, the film is unlikely to attract new viewers. Fans of Call My Agent! will continue to long for another season but, in the meantime, they will have to be content with this watchable, but ultimately disappointing film.

The writer is Emeritus Professor of Film in the Faculty of Arts & Humanities at King’s College London in the UK

Republished from The Conversation

Published in Dawn, ICON, September 27th, 2026

Nizaam | Green Entertainment, Sat-Sun 8.00pm

This is a slow-paced but thoughtful drama about two people bound by their parents’ unfulfilled dreams and hopes. Hoor (Momina Iqbal) dreams of studying abroad but all her efforts come to nothing when her brother, Shahzaib (Daniyal Aamir), marries YouTuber Zoya (Zunairah Rafi), frightening her conservative father, Fareed (Ayub Khosa).

Naumaan Ijaz (Shafiq) plays a stern, authoritarian father with ethical principles, who refuses to yield to corruption. For Shafiq, his son Ahsan (Usama Khan) is an investment for his old age, on whom every penny he spends is a pension fund contribution. Ahsan and Hoor strike up a fragile acquaintance. Both know they cannot afford to make mistakes anymore, but the teasers suggest their cautious approach will not help.

Usama Khan puts in the work to portray the nervous, awkward young man who has never been allowed to breathe freely. Momina Iqbal may not look like a young college student, but her acting is spot on as she knows how to portray her character and has a lot of screen presence. The story, by Fatima Faizan, is a little slow, but it should resonate with countless middle-class youngsters caught between duty and a lack of financial freedom.

Dar-i-Nijaat | ARY Digital, Fri-Sat 8.00pm

One of the most popular shows on air, this script from writer Umera Ahmed has raised a storm of discussion on social media about contemporary relationship dynamics. Despite her orthodox reputation, Umera Ahmed breaks from her usual, morally upright victim-of-circumstances heroine model and presents a grey, secular lead: Zaryab (Durefishan Saleem).

Zaryab has a ‘live-in wife’ status in everything but name and is initially in a relationship with her childhood sweetheart, Zamil (Nameer Khan). But Zamil turns to religion and discards Zaryab as a bad influence. Whatever difficulties Durefishan initially had with Zaryab’s characterisation have been overshadowed by her solid performance as a woman at her breaking point. On the other hand, Abu Bakar (Sheheryar Munawar), the man Zaryab once mocked as too religious and provincial, turns out to be the kinder, more compassionate soul.

Umera Ahmed reminds us, the audience, that too often women pay a heavier price for moral slip-ups while men are more easily accepted. Nameer Khan continues his run of playing diverse characters with skill and feeling. At the same time, Sheheryar Munawar, as Abu Bakar, captures hearts by infusing sweetness into what is, so far, a rather two-dimensional, good-guy role.

Gulbahar | Hum TV, Wed-Thurs 8.00pm

It is 2026, and we are still being presented with ‘the only solution to infertility is a second wife’ trope. Writer Aliya Bukhari spares the audience no clichés in pursuit of ratings: a couple deeply in love, a poor young relative, and the terrible, toxic older women pushing the ‘only’ solution.

Sara (Sanam Saeed) and Sheheryar (Emmad Irfani) are an ideal couple and deeply in love, but are doomed because Sara cannot have children. Options such as artificial insemination and the most obvious, adoption, are completely ignored because that will not get ratings. Komal Meer plays Diya, Sara’s poor young relative whose engagement falls apart and who is also great friends with Sara, which means Diya will, in all likelihood, end up as Sheheryar’s second wife.

Director Mehreen Jabbar uses her signature ‘café’ style: bright, pleasantly lit, and seamlessly integrated — but brief — scenes that capture the essence of each character and their motivations. The stage is set for unnecessary rivalry and heartbreak as two women compete for the affections of one man in a situation that will not allow them to ever feel whole.

What To Watch Out For (Or Not)

Rutba | ARY Digital, Coming Soon

A drama from the pen of Umera Ahmed, featuring Talha Chahour, Zahid Ahmed, Hiba Bukhari and superstar Mehwish Hayat. It looks like a thriller and audiences will probably enjoy it.

Published in Dawn, ICON, September 27th, 2026

The play’s narrative can now be categorised as following Yasir Hussain’s signature style: burlesque, raucous, sometimes witty, sometimes mindless, laden with innuendos and pointed, current jokes. The one-liners come fast: digs at Karachi’s notorious lack of cleanliness, jokes about actor and producer Humayun Saeed and TV host Fiza Ali, actor Faysal Quraishi’s remarkable weight loss and a sardonic nod at the prevalence of ‘black money’ and so on.

Yasir has often expressed his admiration for the madcap Umer Sharif’s stage dramas of yore, where the focus would just be on making the audience laugh. In this vein, he hasn’t bothered with being politically correct. The humour isn’t sanitised, vetted and weighed so that it doesn’t offend — this hare-brained gang is here to make you laugh and not take anything too seriously.

So Suite’s initial run took place in Lahore, followed by a few days’ tryst in Multan, after which it touched down in Karachi. Even the jokes travelled. Speaking after the first performance, Yasir explains that the script is tweaked according to the city the play is taking place in: “The phone ringtone in the Karachi show is of Hania Aamir’s song ‘Pablo’ — in Lahore it was something else.”

With the stage play So Suite, Yasir Hussain is back doing what he does best: delivering fast, irreverent comedy designed for live audiences. The actor, director and writer talks theatre, timing, Umer Sharif and why this is his time to be on stage

It is a small detail but an important one. Much of the appeal of Yasir’s theatre lies in its immediacy. The jokes belong to the moment — they are written for the audience sitting in front, in the city where it is being performed and about the things people are talking about right now.

MADE FOR THE STAGE

It wouldn’t be wrong to say that theatre has always been a sort of second home for Yasir. Acting in television dramas and films, hosting, writing credits, directing projects and the occasional candid statement in an interview may have made him a familiar name, but stage is where his particular brand of comic timing has perhaps found its most natural habitat.

One remembers him holding the fort as Akbar in playwright Anwar Maqsood and director Dawar Mehmood’s theatrical production of Aangan Terrha. Yasir’s association with Mehmood’s Kopykats Productions has extended to many other hugely popular stage productions, including Pawnay 14 August, Sawa 14 August and Half Plate.

In thespian circles, it’s a known fact that when Yasir Hussain’s name is in the cast of a stage play, tickets sell faster. Theatre has always been a significant part of Yasir’s repertoire, so it’s no surprise that, last year, he launched his own theatrical venture, called Lo Iq Films, with Monkey Business.

Yet, for all his obvious affinity for theatre, Yasir has never wanted to be defined by a single medium.

He muses, “I think I have had my successes with film too. At least once every two years, I am seen in a movie. I enjoy producing TV dramas and hosting. At the same time, I have never wanted to be stuck in a rut. There was a time when I was hosting a show for Hum TV and I could have continued to do so, but I did not want to risk being known primarily as a host.”

I insist that, on stage particularly, his work is distinctive. Does he not feel that? That his comic timing sets him apart from many of his peers? He agrees.

“Yes, comic timing is very important. The way a sentence is structured is sometimes the key to it being funny. When I write a play, that’s when I realise why playwrights such as Khalil-ur-Rehman Qamar throw a fuss when their scripts are tweaked. In particular sentences, the entire impact depends on how the words are joined together, the impact that they leave.”

TIMING IS EVERYTHING

Yasir continues: “I have honed my comic timing over the years, and it is essential to a performance on stage. The late Umer Sharif’s timing was impeccable. However, I once met him in his later years, and he was trying to deliver jokes with the same promptness, but it made me sad to see that sometimes his timing would weaken.

“That’s when I realised that there is no point in saving away jokes, setting them aside for a later performance. Right now, I am in my prime, I can deliver one-liners one after the other. I can perform live for nearly an hour. This is my time to be on stage.”

Yasir’s stamina certainly is something one wonders about as he races about the stage, never missing a beat in the mad romp that categorises his particular theatrical template. In Monkey Business, he was on stage most of the time. In So Suite, he gives himself a break for a few scenes, letting the rest of the cast handle the story before returning to the fray.

“It can be exhausting,” says Yasir. “When I step backstage after a scene, I sometimes pause to catch my breath. And after the show, a lot of times, people from the audience come to meet me and I see videos of me with them, smiling weakly. You have to put in so much energy and make sure everything is timed right — it can take its toll.”

Did he deliberately write So Suite’s script in a way that there would be considerable scenes where he would not be on stage?

“Yes, I wanted the rest of the cast to carry the story too,” admits Yasir. “I want to prepare new actors who can share the stage with me and, sometimes, also perform all on their own.”

NOT EXACTLY POLITICALLY CORRECT

Did he worry that certain jokes in his script might offend audience members? “No, I don’t think about this,” retorts Yasir. “And I think the audience isn’t getting offended either. Every day, after the show, I meet people who tell me they laughed throughout.

“Our shows have done very well in Lahore, Multan and, now, Karachi. Humour created within boundaries is like serving food without salt. It would be bland.” He adds, “Yes, there are jokes that tilt towards being ‘bold’, but the first show in Karachi was staged before our friends and family and they weren’t offended. This makes me hopeful that the audiences that come in on other days will also just enjoy the show.”

And does he sometimes end up laughing while writing his script? “You know, I have never found my script to be funny,” he confesses.

“Till the very last day of rehearsals, I keep asking my actors if a certain scene is funny or not. I usually come up with a basic script and, while we rehearse it, I start adding more jokes. There is no day when I am not anxious before stepping on stage. This feeling drives me to do a good job every day. The day I become over-sure of myself, the performance will suffer.”

Does he manage to extract the same level of dedication from his actors?

“They all work very hard,” Yasir concedes, “but there have been times when an actor has particularly received a lot of applause one day but the next day, they just don’t perform well. I think that a lot of people, after they get a tiny bit of praise, they start believing that they are Dilip Kumar! This overconfidence can really affect their performance.”

He then points out another issue that keeps coming up with actors. “It is also exhausting when I am working with actors who simultaneously have TV drama commitments. There are times when we have waited till 11 at night for members of the cast to turn up after wrapping up their TV drama shoots.

“I understand that they have other work, but I am very particular about treating my cast well. They get paid well and in advance, and when we are travelling, I put them up at good hotels and take care of their transport and meals. I try to facilitate them the best that I can but, in return, I expect them to be focused on their work.”

He elaborates why he feels actors should give as much importance to theatre. “TV has its pull, but a single scene where an actor performs well might get lost in the overall episode. On stage, that scene will win immediate applause. There is nothing like it.”

THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING ‘WITH IT’

Both of Yasir’s theatrical productions have been huge hits. Why hasn’t he considered releasing videos of the plays on YouTube, like Umer Sharif’s plays used to be available on video cassettes?

“Back then, people would sit and watch entire plays for hours — now, they watch two-minute reels,” Yasir points out. “People enjoy seeing the performance on stage, but I believe that they would not be as entertained if the same play were to be uploaded in its entirety on YouTube.

“Also, people find the jokes funny because they are relevant. In Monkey Business, I had quipped about [actor] Danish Taimoor because, back then, his controversial ‘filhaal’ [for the time being] quote had been making the rounds. Today, that joke won’t work. People have moved on. I will now joke about other things.

“The strength of the comedy relies heavily on it being very current,” adds Yasir. “If I stage this same play a few months from now, I would change a lot of the jokes, according to what is being discussed at that time.”

In between So Suite’s multi-city theatrical run, Yasir also managed to squeeze in a trip to Thailand, where he shot for the forthcoming movie Jawani Phir Nahin Ani 3 (JPNA 3). He is one of the new additions to the cast of the popular movie series, which is currently being filmed and is tentatively scheduled to be released early next year.

“I flew directly from Multan to shoot abroad for Jawani Phir Nahin Ani 3. Some of the shooting is still left. It has been a great experience. I have learnt so much, working with Humayun Saeed, Fahad Mustafa and Nadeem Baig.”

Also in the works is a movie that Yasir has co-written, which he also plans to produce, direct and star in: 5,000 Mein Shaadi! “My elder sister says that I should try to bring out one theatrical production every year, so that is something which I am considering,” he divulges. “However, I don’t know how long I will be able to do this without an investor coming on board.

“It’s a risky, exhausting business,” he says more sombrely. “A show can get cancelled if the city’s law-and-order situation is in turmoil or if it rains. Actors might fall ill and be unable to perform in a show. There is a lot that has to be taken care of and maybe I won’t be able to do this consistently, simply on my own strength.”

That would be a pity. Yasir’s brand of theatre is a breath of fresh air. Here’s an example: in one particular sequence in So Suite, dancers come on stage and perform a routine. Then, Yasir addresses them, “Bhai aap loag tau jao.” [Guys, please leave]. They all retreat, except for one, who goes on to perform a few cartwheels before he departs.

At this, Yasir quips, “Yeh woh kitanu hai jo saabun se bhi nahin marta!” [He’s the germ that even soap can’t kill!]. It’s a witticism that comes at just the right time, pointedly referring to those ubiquitous Hindi language TV soap ads which declare that they kill off 99 percent of all known germs.

That’s quintessential Yasir Hussain: irreverent, immediate and deliciously, inimitably funny.

So Suite is being staged at the Arts Council of Pakistan, Karachi auditorium from September 16 to 27, 2026

The writer is a fashion and entertainment journalist with over two decades of experience. She can be reached at maliharehman1@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, ICON, September 27th, 2026

Perhaps the greatest surprise of the whole Ed Sheeran fiasco over the past couple of weeks was how quickly a famous and immensely wealthy pop star like him got cancelled. Not for what he did, but for what he didn’t do. And in that is a silver lining for anyone despairing about the power of collective global action.

In the wake of Sheeran caving into Zionist pressure and removing rapper Macklemore from his US tour on September 14 — because of a speech at a concert on September 4 in which Macklemore spoke against the genocide in Gaza and called for Palestine to be free — Sheeran has lost almost 450,000 followers on Instagram till now, seen all his supporting acts (Aaron Rowe, Lukas Graham, Finneas) as well as his own backing band Beoga quit the tour in protest, and seen his upcoming concert tickets plunge in prices. In fact, the entire ‘Loop Tour’ is in danger of being cancelled, since Sheeran has no supporting acts left and ticket sales have also plunged.

Sheeran’s mealy mouthed attempt to address the controversy at a concert in Philadelphia on September 19 — reading off a prepared script from a teleprompter — probably made things even worse for him. Not only did he not apologise to his alleged friend of 13 years, Macklemore, for showing no spine in the face of billionaire constraints against freedom of expression, he continued to frame the genocide — so determined by all the world’s major human rights organisations as well as genocide scholars — as merely a “complex political situation.”

Even more cringe-worthily, he attempted to centre his own woes as the most important issue — tearing up on stage twice in self-pity — rather than focus on the deaths of at least 75,000 human beings, including more than 21,000 children, in the brutal Zionist assault on Palestine. At least 175,000 people have been left badly injured, almost all schools and hospitals have been destroyed and the true death toll is estimated to be significantly higher, since many bodies are still buried in the rubble of Gaza. Ed Sheeran fully deserves what’s coming at him.

English pop singer Ed Sheeran removed his supporting act Macklemore from his ongoing tour in North America, under pressure from billionaire Zionists who were incensed at the rapper’s pro-Palestinian stance. The growing backlash against that act is actually a moment of hope for the world

Sheeran’s attempts to portray himself as an apolitical ingenu neither stand up to scrutiny nor do they pass the test of basic common sense. A deer caught in the headlights might be a better characterisation. Many commentators were quick to point out that Sheeran had, in fact, taken a political stance with the war in Ukraine, voicing his support for Ukrainians and playing at a charity concert in 2022 for Ukrainian refugees, where he announced “I stand with you.” Obviously, white Europeans are easier to stand with against Russians for him than brown people against Zionists.

But the real irony is nobody even expected spineless Sheeran to make political statements in support of Palestine. The issue really was that he could not stand up even for his own “friends” when Zionist stadium owners such as Robert Kraft pressured him to drop Macklemore for making a short speech. If a superstar with a net worth of above 400 million pounds cannot stand up for principles, what use is such fame and wealth?

As Macklemore pointed out in an excellently worded statement after his ouster from the tour, in the face of the gravest moral issue of our times, neither Macklemore himself nor Sheeran are victims. The real victims are those massacred and injured by, and those continuing to face, the brunt of a genocidal, apartheid state.

But Ed Sheeran’s undoing, especially in the way it has happened, also offers a glimmer of hope that the tide of public opinion is turning. The has-been pop singer Pink, who was among the first to attack Macklemore on social media and supported his removal from the tour, has herself been outed as a virulent Zionist and faces a growing global petition asking Unicef to remove her as a goodwill ambassador.

The superstar Lady Gaga is another one facing a backlash for her support for the apartheid state, with her PR teams scrambling to claim she is keen on supporting Palestinians. At least PR teams understand the danger to their clients’ public personas and futures. Even more tellingly, those rushing to support Sheeran include washed-up singer and former convict Boy George and English far-right, anti-Islam activist Tommy Robinson. That should tell you all you need to know about which side to stand on.

Meanwhile, a number of other Western musicians have found in this disaster for Sheeran the opportunity or the courage to assert what they may have earlier shied away from. Of course, some like former Pink Floyd frontman Roger Waters and Irish hip-hop trio Kneecap have long been vocal about their opinions regarding genocidal Zionists. But now many others, such as the Dave Matthews Band, Gorillaz, Charlotte Church, Zara Larsson, CMAT, Kehlani, Tones and I, Garbage, Dropkick Murphys, Imelda May, Alonestar, PinkPantheress, Billy Bragg, Massive Attack, Noel Gallagher and Imagine Dragons, have also weighed in publicly against Sheeran trying to both-sides a genocide.

As it is, opinion polls show that a large majority in the West now have an unfavourable opinion of the Zionist settler-colonial state. This is particularly true of young Americans, who have been furious with their own establishment’s aggressive support for apartheid over the past eight decades. The Zionists are desperate to shut down all voices of dissent in the West but they are failing, badly.

Just weeks before, A-list actor Mark Ruffalo was being dragged in the mainstream US media for alleged anti-semitism — simply a dog-whistle for taking an anti-genocide stance — and veteran actress Susan Sarandon had openly spoken in early September about being denied roles because of her advocacy for Palestinians. A couple of years previously, Mexican actress Melissa Barrera had been fired from the Scream 7 film under Zionist pressure and seen her Hollywood career dry up because of her pro-Palestinian stance.

Now, however, it is becoming costly not just for open Zionists like Jerry Seinfeld and Gal Gadot but for those like Ed Sheeran who think they can coast through with their alleged “neutrality” in a time of growing global anger. And that is why this saga is a defining moment of hope in a dystopian world.

The writer is Dawn’s Editor Magazines

Published in Dawn, ICON, September 27th, 2026

What we [in the UK] watch on television, hear on the radio and see on our screens is shaped by decisions that are still largely made in Westminster. That includes the rules governing broadcasters, how public service media are funded and regulated and how the UK’s nations and regions are represented.

In Wales, there is now a growing argument that those decisions shouldn’t be made without Wales having a much stronger say.

Following Plaid Cymru’s victory in May’s Senedd (Welsh parliament) election, the Welsh government has announced plans to establish a shadow broadcasting and communications authority for Wales, akin to the UK-wide regulatory body Ofcom.

It’s intended as the first step towards seeking the devolution of broadcasting powers. The authority would advise the Welsh government on matters relating to media and communication in Wales and would provide a focal point for public debate and engagement. It could also gather data and provide insight on media and communications in Wales, beyond what is currently offered by Ofcom.

As Wales pushes for a greater say over broadcasting in the UK, an old question is resurfacing: should media policy still be controlled from Westminster?

The new UK government under Andy Burnham’s leadership has spoken positively about devolving power more generally. However, its initial response to the Welsh government’s announcement has given little indication that broadcasting is likely to be high on its list of constitutional reforms. As things stand, broadcasting and media policy won’t be leaving Whitehall any time soon.

But the Welsh government’s move comes at a time when Scotland also has a nationalist government. Devolving broadcasting powers was not part of the SNP’s 2026 election manifesto. But its 2024 document argued that it wanted “to develop a broadcasting strategy that better reflects and prioritises the specific needs and interests of Scottish audiences and our creative economy.”

Meanwhile, Sinn Féin remains the largest party in Northern Ireland, while Burnham has promised greater devolution within England.

Together, these developments raise certain constitutional questions: should decisions about broadcasting continue to be made almost exclusively in London? Or is it time for the UK’s nations to have a greater say?

Currently, Westminster decides the legislative framework of broadcasting while Ofcom regulates broadcasting across the UK. The BBC’s royal charter is negotiated with ministers in London. Although broadcasters produce programmes for audiences across the UK, the rules under which they operate remain largely centralised.

Whether that model still reflects the political reality of today’s UK is the question colleagues and I are exploring through an ongoing research project on broadcasting policy in a devolved UK. There are two main reasons why Wales, in particular, has argued for a stronger voice.

The first is broadcasting’s place in Welsh history and public life. Historian John Davies argued that broadcasting has played an unusually important role in shaping modern Welsh identity. For a nation with its own language and distinct cultural traditions, television and radio have never simply been about just entertainment. They have helped sustain national conversations, reflected Welsh life back to audiences and supported the Welsh language.

The second reason is concern about the future of public service broadcasting itself. Public service broadcasters such as the BBC and S4C have a responsibility to inform, educate and entertain. But they also provide trusted news and programmes that reflect the lives of people across the UK’s nations and regions.

Those responsibilities are becom­ing harder to fulfil in an increasingly crowded media landscape, dom­inated by international technology companies and changing audience habits. For the Welsh government, this is about more than preserving the Welsh language, now spoken by around 800,000 people. It is also about ensuring that Welsh stories, communities and democratic institutions continue to be properly represented in both Welsh- and English-language broadcasting.

There are also serious concerns regarding the recent announcements from the BBC about job cuts and the likely effects of these on production in the regions and nations.

This concern is not new. In 2023, an independent expert panel recommended establishing a shadow broadcasting authority to strengthen Wales’ influence over broadcasting policy. The previous Labour-led Welsh government did not take the proposal forward, but the new Plaid Cymru administration has now revived it.

Potential reforms

Some reforms could be introduced relatively easily. The Senedd, for example, could play a greater role in appointments to bodies such as the S4C Board, the independent body which oversees the management of the channel. This may give Wales a stronger voice over institutions that primarily serve Welsh audiences.

More ambitious changes would be more complicated. One possibility would be separate BBC charters for each nation of the UK. This could allow for greater accountability to audiences in Wales, Scotland, Northern Ireland and England while maintaining the BBC as a UK-wide institution. Other proposals would require a more fundamental rethink of where broadcasting powers should sit within the UK’s constitutional arrangements.

That is where the politics become much more difficult. Any meaningful transfer of broadcasting powers would require cooperation between Westminster and the devolved governments. The UK government has already said the Welsh government should “focus on better running the services they have.”

This debate is unlikely to disappear. As political power becomes increasingly dispersed across the UK, questions about who controls broadcasting, how national identities are represented and who is accountable for public service media will only become more pressing.

Broadcasting has long been treated as something that should be governed from the centre. But in a UK where political authority is becoming steadily more devolved, that assumption looks less secure than it once did.

The writer is Professor of Film and Media at Aberystwyth University in the UK

Republished from The Conversation

Published in Dawn, ICON, September 27th, 2026

Q. In my free time, I like to cook. One favourite of mine is pasta, for which I regularly seek herbs and cherry tomatoes. I reside in Karachi but have so far been unable to find a nursery or store where I can buy seeds for fruits such as cherry tomato and herbs like thyme and basil. Please identify a couple of stores where I can acquire such seeds.

A. You can easily get seeds for cherry tomatoes, thyme and basil at the Empress Market or from the many seed stores spread throughout the city, including opposite the Old Sabzi Mandi area. For herbs, however, I recommend buying seedlings from a plant nursery rather than growing them from seed. This is because Karachi’s winters are relatively short and starting with seedlings will give the plants a head start and allow you to harvest them sooner.

Q. I am from Karachi and have more than a dozen chickens at home. Small plants with blue flowers (photograph attached) have grown and quickly spread along the boundary wall of my house. The chickens are eating the leaves of this plant. I was wondering if you could identify these plants and tell me whether they are safe for my chickens.

All your gardening queries answered here

A. The plant in the photograph appears to be a dayflower (Commelina species), which grows readily in Karachi’s warm, humid climate. It is edible and not dangerous for your chickens’ consumption.

Q. My sharifa (custard apple) tree bore fruit, which has since gone black. What would be the appropriate way to approach this issue? Need your advice.

A. The fruit in the photograph appears hard and mummified. This can occur following pest or fungal damage, although the exact cause cannot be confirmed from the photograph alone. Pest damage, for example, may cause the fruit to deteriorate, harden and eventually turn dark.

Check whether there are holes or bore marks on the custard apple, usually brownish black marks on the surface. If so, it confirms the pest attack. There is no specific treatment until the cause of the damage has been identified. In any case, I would suggest reduced watering, application of commercially available fungicide for fruits and overall sanitation of your tree, which will reduce the likelihood of pest attacks. Moreover, prune the custard apples that have changed colour, remove the infected leaves, clean the area around the tree and remove the fallen leaves as well as blackened or purplish custard apples. Finally, reduce the number of leaves and stems if the tree appears cluttered.

Q. I live in DHA Phase 1, Rawalpindi. I am interested in growing amaryllis and other flowering plants at home. Can the flowers be grown in the Potohar region and when? Also, what kind of flowers may I nourish in my pots for the coming season? I would like to start with seeds while growing these plants.

A. For the Potohar region, September and October are a good time to plant amaryllis bulbs. Here are some key guidelines for the planting phase. Leave the upper portion of the bulb above the soil and use a well-drained potting mix. Place the pot where the plant will receive gentle morning sunlight.

For the coming cool season, you can grow flowering plants such as calendula, petunia, dianthus, phlox, nasturtium and pansy in pots. Visit local nurseries or seed stores for good-quality seeds.

Please send your queries and emails to doctree101@hotmail.com. The writer is a physician and a host for the YouTube channel ‘DocTree Gardening’ promoting organic kitchen gardening

Published in Dawn, EOS, September 27th, 2026

I still remember the first sausage I ever tried. It was about the size of half a hot dog, which my big brother shared with me from his school lunch box one day. Our mother had not packed him that lunch. He had put it in his lunch box during a garden party or some such event at school because he didn’t feel like eating it at that time. I had never tasted anything like it.

My brother went to the Karachi American School. Sausages and hot dogs — also known as frankfurters (from Frankfurt, Germany) in some instance — are nothing new to Americans. They are a rather cheap roadside snack.

However, when I asked to have it again around that time, my mother could not find it at any snack bar or restaurant in Karachi. She offered me seekh kebabs [skewered minced meat] instead, telling me that they were pretty much the same thing. Of course they were not. But my objections fell on deaf ears. Then my father put an end to my cravings by telling me that sausage casings were made of animal intestines. End of discussion.

Well, not really. Several years later, I did get to enjoy hot dogs to my heart’s content at the Halal Guys carts in Manhattan. By that time, I was also more knowledgeable about how sausages are made. Not all sausages are wrapped in intestinal skin. Some are skinless.

Forget the frozen-food aisle: these homemade sausages come in chicken and vegan versions and can be made with everyday ingredients

By then, halal beef and chicken sausages had also become available in Pakistan. The frozen-food section of almost every supermarket stocked them. I even sold hot dogs from my stall at the Karachi Eat Food Festival in 2015 and 2016. But the sausages in my hot dogs were store-bought. Of late, though, I have learned how to make them on my own — not just meat sausages, but vegetarian and vegan ones as well.

Here are a couple of recipes you can try at home.

CHICKEN SAUSAGES

Take one kilogramme of minced chicken in a bowl. Add to it one medium-sized boiled and grated beetroot, half a grated carrot, three grated garlic cloves, one grated chicken stock cube, one teaspoon red chilli powder, one teaspoon onion powder, half a teaspoon black pepper powder, salt to taste, two teaspoons tomato paste and three slices of ground bread.

Mix well, before transferring the mixture to a food processor and blend until it becomes a smooth, fine paste. Transfer the paste to a piping bag and pipe it on to sheets of butter paper, forming sausage-shaped portions. Roll the butter paper around each portion and twist both ends to seal, like a candy wrapper. Alternatively, use cling wrap or aluminum foil. Refrigerate the wrapped sausages for four to five hours.

Boil water in a pan. Take the sausages out of the refrigerator and remove the butter paper (or cling wrap or aluminum foil) from as many sausages as you want to eat, while freezing the uncooked sausages for later. Boil the sausages for four to five minutes.

Now, heat one or two tablespoons of oil in a pan. Sauté the sausages in the pan until they turn golden. Serve in long hot dog buns, topped with tomato ketchup and mustard sauce.

VEGAN SAUSAGES

Take one cup of white lobia or beans and soak them overnight. Boil them in a saucepan with four cups of water until the water evaporates. Set the beans aside to cool before transferring them into a blender. Chop a small onion and four to five garlic cloves, and add them to the blender. Grind one cup of rolled oats into a powder. Add the powder to the blender along with one teaspoon of salt, half a teaspoon of garlic powder, a quarter teaspoon of chilli flakes and a quarter teaspoon of ground pepper.

Also, add half a teaspoon of fennel seeds and a quarter teaspoon of cumin seeds, half a cup of peeled walnuts and one tablespoon each of tomato paste and soy sauce. Finally, soak three tablespoons of chia seeds in a quarter cup of water until they absorb all the water and add to the rest of the ingredients in the blender. Blend until well combined. Add a quarter cup of water until the mixture is soft and smooth.

Rub some olive oil on your palms and shape the mixture into sausages, then roll and wrap each one in aluminum foil to seal at both ends like a candy wrapper.

Steam the sausages for 20 minutes and then take out and unwrap. Serve as many vegan sausages as you like, while freezing the rest for later.

The writer is a member of staff. X: @HasanShazia

Published in Dawn, EOS, September 27th, 2026

At the end of a long and arduous day, walking home from the bus stop, I must not only be wary of speeding vehicles, but also of criminals, opportunistic harassers and serial stalkers. Exacerbating this daily grind are hazards such as flooded roads — after rainfall or otherwise — where speeding vehicles may splash pedestrians, leaving them wet, exposed and helpless. What may seem like a minor inconvenience to a driver can become a deeply uncomfortable and humiliating moment for a pedestrian.

These experiences led me to ask other women about their journeys.

Those who took part in this informal survey use different modes of public transportation, including mini-buses, qingchis, electric buses, and other informal transport services. Their backgrounds and experiences vary, depending on factors such as their occupation, age, income, the areas they travel to and the time of day. They include people working in offices, banks, schools, hospitals, shops and factories, while others are domestic workers employed in private homes.

Their stories reveal how concerns about safety persist throughout the journey — and do not end when women get off public transport.

Long waits, overcrowded buses and unsafe infrastructure are only part of the daily commute for Karachi’s working women. Often, the most difficult stretch for them begins after they get off public transport

WALKING BACK HOME

One recurring concern expressed by women was their safety after getting off public transport and walking from the last stop to their homes. For many women, the walk takes between five and 10 minutes. Although public transport takes them to the last stop, the final walk home often feels unsafe, particularly during the evening or at night.

Two women told me they had been hit by a motorbike without headlights. Another, a physiotherapist, told me she had been robbed of her cellphone while walking from the stop to her home in the Gulshan-i-Iqbal area.

Equally challenging is the prospect of crossing a pedestrian bridge. These bridges are often poorly maintained and not well-lit, making them unsafe, especially after sunset. Some women said they had encountered people who use drugs on or around such bridges, making them feel unsafe. At least one passenger, an employee at a private hospital, told me that she faced harassment while crossing a pedestrian bridge.

In addition, large advertising billboards frequently obstruct visibility, creating hidden spaces where pedestrians cannot easily see who is nearby. As a result, many women avoid pedestrian bridges altogether and choose to cross busy roads, despite the risk of being hit by traffic.

Even walking short distances in extreme heat can be physically exhausting, while heavy rainfall often floods the streets and conceals open manholes and damaged roads. As a result, women fear falling into uncovered manholes or being injured while walking through waterlogged streets.

A woman shared that, while walking to the bus stop to pick up her daughter, she fell into an uncovered manhole, suffering serious injuries. She says the construction site had no warning signs, safety barriers or adequate lighting to alert pedestrians to the danger.

FINDING ALTERNATIVES

A group of women working at a garment packaging factory explained that they are fortunate to live in the same neighbourhood and work at the same factory, allowing them to travel together each day. They use mini-buses for their daily commute, and their homes are about a 20-minute walk from the last stop. Instead of walking, the women collectively hire a rickshaw to cover the final part of their journey.

Another group, also working at a factory, explained that they rarely travel alone after work. Factory transport drops them on main roads and they travel the last leg of their journey by themselves. They leave the factory in groups and often get lifts from Mazda drivers and loaders who live in the same neighbourhood or along the same route. Such informal support networks help reduce transport costs while also providing a greater sense of security during the last stage of their commute.

One university student told me that she uses a bike-hailing service to get home after getting off the bus because it is more affordable than a rickshaw. She explained that this option allows her to reach home while keeping her transportation costs low.

But not everyone can afford this. Women from low-income households say that financial constraints — the additional fare of a rickshaw, for instance — limit their options in the final stage of their daily commute. They get off at the main road and walk the remaining distance to their homes.

Their experiences demonstrate how economic inequality directly influences personal safety and mobility. The inability to afford last-mile transport can force women to choose between financial necessity and personal security.

SAFETY IN NUMBERS

Travelling together allows the women to look out for one another, particularly when walking from the last stop to their homes or passing through poorly lit and isolated areas. It also gives women an opportunity to form unexpected connections.

The same sense of connection emerged during my own daily trips on public transport. I have made quite a few friends, particularly among those using the same route regularly. We gradually became familiar with each other and, over time, repeated encounters gradually turned into friendships, built on familiarity, trust and mutual support.

Most of the women I spoke to describe these friendships as an important source of social and psychological support, helping to reduce feelings of isolation, anxiety and vulnerability while commuting. In this way, the bus stop also becomes more than a waiting space — it also serves as a place where solidarity and community are formed among women navigating the city’s public transport system.

These everyday choices show how closely safety, mobility and economic inequality are intertwined. For many women, the commute does not end when they step off a bus or qingchi; negotiating the final stretch home is itself a daily calculation of cost, safety and convenience.

The writer is a visual artist and works as a research assistant with architect Arif Hasan

Published in Dawn, EOS, September 27th, 2026

On July 30, 2026, an avalanche swept through an internat­ional expedition on the 8,051-metre Broad Peak, killing all 10 climbers, among them a beloved Pakistani mountain guide, Sohail Sakhi, and renowned British-Nepali mountaineer Nirmal ‘Nims’ Purja.

The obvious question, particularly in a year when climbers across the Karakoram range have repeatedly complained of unstable conditions, is whether climate change played a role.

There is no evidence yet to say that it did, at least not directly. Fida Ali Arandu, a veteran Pakistani mountaineer and a member of the Purja’s Elite Exped team, believes climate change may have contributed, but also points to another factor: heavy snowfall in the days before the accident and what he considered an overly hurried summit push. His advice is simple: after heavy snowfall, wait, let the mountain settle and only move when conditions are clear.

Naila Kiani, who has climbed 12 of the world’s highest mountains, says the question surrounding the serac collapse that triggered the Broad Peak avalanche remains unresolved. Was it the result of a normal accumulation of snow and ice, or had warming temperatures contributed to instability? “We’re still trying to analyse” what happened, she says.

Glaciers are retreating, routes are shifting and rockfall and avalanches are becoming more common. Even the traditional seasons are no longer predictable. Is climate change rewriting the rules of mountaineering?

That uncertainty is important. Not every avalanche is caused by global warming. Avalanches have always been part of mountaineering. What is changing, however, is the mountain environment in which those avalanches occur and, increasingly, the predictability of that environment.

For mountaineers who have spent years travelling through the Karakorams, the changes are becoming impossible to ignore.

MOUNTAINs IN FLUX

Sajid Sadpara has spent nearly a decade climbing major peaks in the Himalayas and Karakorams. He says one of the most obvious changes has been the formation of new glacial lakes and the changing nature of established climbing routes.

On Gasherbrum I this year, something as mundane as leaving a bottle of water outside the tent became an indication of a much warmer mountain. At Camp 1, water that previously would have frozen overnight did not. Climbers wearing heavy down jackets found themselves feeling hot.

Then there were the crevasses. A familiar route between Camp 1 and Camp 2 had changed enough that the team had to find an alternative. The new route took considerably longer. “These changes are happening in front of our eyes,” Sadpara says.

Fida Ali has witnessed a similar transformation over decades of travelling through the Karakorams. Glaciers that once appeared stable are retreating; large blocks of glacial ice are breaking away and falling into rivers. Even after August — traditionally the point when temperatures begin dropping and mountain surfaces start to refreeze — rivers, he says, are continuing to swell.

The science supports the broader picture. A 2026 review published in Natural Hazards, an academic journal that publishes research on the causes and effects of natural disasters, found within the the Himalaya-Karakoram region widespread retreat and expansion of glacial lakes under a warming climate, with more than 388 documented glacial lake outburst flood (GLOF) events across the region. The researchers also identify ice avalanches and extreme precipitation among the important triggers of these events.

For climbers, glacier retreat is not simply an environmental statistic. It changes the route beneath their feet. Snow bridges disappear. Crevasses widen. Ice becomes less predictable. Rock previously held together by frozen ground becomes exposed. And that can transform a route that has been considered familiar for generations.

WHEN ROCK REPLACES ICE

Kiani remembers seeing the Baltoro Glacier for the first time in 2018. Since then, she’s made multiple trips until her last in 2024. She says the landscape now looks dramatically different. “In several sections where there used to be ice and snow, there is now rock,” she says. “These changes used to take decades. And they are now happening in months.”

She also experienced increased rockfall on Everest in 2023, an area where she had not expected to encounter such frequent falling rock. Fida Ali knows the danger personally. Last year, while climbing Nanga Parbat, he was struck in the head by falling rock. Bleeding heavily, he managed to descend to Camp 1 and eventually Base Camp himself. For climbers, rockfall can be particularly dangerous because it can be difficult to predict.

The relationship between warming and rockfall is increasingly well documented in mountain environments. As temperatures rise, permafrost — ground that has remained frozen for years or centuries — can thaw. Glaciers also retreat, removing some of the physical support they provide to surrounding slopes.

The consequences are visible far beyond Pakistan. In the French Alps, 2026 has seen an extraordinary number of rockfalls around Mont Blanc. Extreme heat and thawing permafrost were identified as major factors in the destabilisation. In Switzerland, the 2025 collapse of part of the Birch Glacier above the village of Blatten triggered a massive rockslide and destroyed much of the village. Scientists and authorities linked the instability to a combination of glacier retreat, thawing permafrost and geological conditions.

The implication for mountaineering is profound: routes traditionally considered safe during the summer can no longer necessarily be treated that way.

THE SEASON IS CHANGING

Perhaps the most significant consequence for climbers is not simply that mountains are becoming warmer, but that the old calendar is becoming less reliable. For decades, the main Karakoram climbing season has broadly centred around June to August. But Sadpara believes that may have to change. “We are thinking of changing the season of climbing K2,” he says.

He and other climbers are considering earlier spring attempts or moving expeditions towards autumn. Waqar Ali, the head guide at Karakoram Expeditions has reached a similar conclusion from his own experience. He says that, over the past two years, conditions have increasingly failed to conform to the traditional June 15-August 15 window.

This year was a particularly stark example. Persistent storms, heavy snowfall, unstable snow, avalanches and rockfall disrupted expeditions across the Karakoram. No climbers summited K2 or Gasherbrum I during the 2026 summer season, while many teams were unable to find a sufficiently safe weather window on other major peaks.

Weather forecasting itself is becoming more complicated. Sadpara describes checking multiple forecasting services before a Gasherbrum I summit attempt, only to encounter storms and strong winds at the summit, despite apparently favourable forecasts. The problem is not necessarily that forecasts are becoming useless. Rather, rapidly changing conditions can make the margin between a safe forecast and dangerous reality much smaller.

MOUNTAIN BOOM VS CHANGING MOUNTAIN

All of this is happening as mountaineering itself is becoming increasingly popular. The release of 14 Peaks: Nothing Is Impossible on Netflix in 2021 brought Nims Purja’s extraordinary campaign to climb all 14 eight-thousanders to a global audience. The documentary turned an already growing interest in high-altitude climbing into something far more visible and accessible to millions of viewers.

Purja’s death on Broad Peak this year, therefore, carries an additional poignancy. The man who helped bring Himalayan mountaineering into living rooms around the world became one of the victims of the increasingly unpredictable environment he spent his life navigating.

More people are now going into the high mountains, just as the mountains themselves are changing. That creates a difficult paradox. Increased interest brings tourism, employment and income to mountain communities. But it also means more climbers, more infrastructure and greater pressure on fragile environments. Gilgit-Baltistan officials have already begun reviewing trekking regulations, following a series of accidents during the 2026 season.

For the mountaineers themselves, however, the central challenge is more immediate. “The routes are changing,” says Sadpara. “Mountaineering is becoming harder and riskier.”

Perhaps that is the most important distinction. Climate change is changing the conditions that mountaineers have spent generations learning to read. The question facing mountaineers is, therefore, about adaptation to that change. It’s not simply whether they can climb higher, faster or harder. It is whether they can learn to climb a mountain that is changing underneath them.

The writer is a journalist, documentary filmmaker and radio correspondent.
Instagram: @madeeha.syed

Published in Dawn, EOS, September 27th, 2026

Three claims she makes in the interview are: (i) the partition of Punjab and Bengal were not an inevitable product of the Partition of India; (ii) Quaid-i-Azam Muhammad Ali Jinnah and the Muslim League aimed to achieve substantial power-sharing for Muslims in an undivided India and an independent nation-state for Muslims was not their actual end-goal; and (iii) Partition was a result of “federal dilemmas” in pre-independence India and not a consequence of religious difference alone.

It is illuminating to read claims made by Prof Jalal in light of B.R. Ambedkar’s book Pakistan or the Partition of India, first published in 1940 and updated in 1945. B.R. Ambedkar was one of the most influential political leaders and thinkers of India during the freedom struggle. He was a visionary leader of Dalits and independent India’s first law minister as well as the chair of the committee that drafted India’s constitution.

Ambedkar’s politics was in tension with that of the Indian National Congress. He believed that Congress was not sufficiently sensitive to injustices faced by Dalits and backward castes in India. His vantage point as a Dalit political leader, combined with his acute perceptiveness, allowed him to dispassionately assess Muslim League claims and the demand for Pakistan. Ambedkar was able to view the anxieties of Muslims in 20th century India more realistically than most Congress leaders.

Was the demand for Pakistan only a bargaining strategy for greater Muslim power in an undivided India, as historian Ayesha Jalal argues? Indian constitutionalist B.R. Ambedkar’s analysis from that time offers a provocative counterpoint to an influential interpretation

Pakistan or the Partition of India is so rich with information and analysis of Indian politics in the years before Independence, it is a disservice to sum it up in a few words, but I will try. Here is Ambedkar’s argument:

Politics in India was becoming increasingly communalised along religious lines during the 20th century. The revitalisation of the Muslim League in the 1930s under the leadership of Jinnah and the demand for Pakistan intensified the communalisation. While the logic behind the creation of Pakistan was weak, the sentiment in favour of it among Muslims by the 1940s was strong and, if ignored, could intensify conflict and destabilise an independent India. Therefore “if Muslims must have Pakistan, there is no escape from conceding it to them.”

Some of Ambedkar’s arguments in his book challenge the interpretations put forward by Jalal. Ambedkar and Jalal are writing in different eras and they approach the question from very different perspectives. One wrote about Partition while it was a hotly debated and live proposal. The other writes about it with the hindsight of a scholar. Reading the two side by side enriches our understanding of pre-Partition politics.

PARTITION OF PUNJAB AND BENGAL

Ayesha Jalal says:
“The partition of India was effectively the partition of the two main Muslim-majority provinces, Punjab and Bengal. There was nothing inevitable or pre-determined about this. Until the bitter end, Mohammad Ali Jinnah insisted that it was wrong to equate the principle of Pakistan with the partition of Punjab and Bengal. The prospect of a united and independent Bengal remained a possibility and was scotched only because the Congress high command was averse to the idea of a united Bengal outside the Indian union.”

Ambedkar wrote that Jinnah’s resistance to the partition of Punjab and Bengal was inconsistent with his demand for Pakistan. The basis for the demand for Pakistan was that: (i) Muslims in India are a separate nation; and (ii) in the north-west and east of India, they live in easily severable and contiguous areas. A Pakistan can therefore be carved out in these areas.

In other words, the logic underlying the demand is that: “[i]f a nationality lives in easily severable and contiguous areas, other things being equal, a case can be made out for territorial independence.”

Following this logic, Ambedkar says that “Punjab and Bengal would thus necessarily be subject to division.” This is because:

“In Bengal and Punjab, the Hindus occupy two different areas contiguous and severable. In these circumstances, there is no reason for conceding what the Muslim League seems to demand, namely that the present boundaries of Punjab and Bengal shall continue to be the boundaries of Western Pakistan and Eastern Pakistan.”

According to Ambedkar, if the territorial contiguity of the nation should define its boundaries, the fact that the Hindu majority regions in Bengal and Punjab are “contiguous and severable”, entails that the states should be partitioned accordingly. He emphasised that a “demand for regional self-determination must always be a two-edged sword.”

This argument contradicts Prof Jalal’s claim that the partition of Punjab and Bengal was due to Congress intransigence. It was, according to Ambedkar, a logical outcome of the Muslim League demand for Pakistan, which was based on the assertion that distinct nations living in contiguous and easily separable geographical areas have a right to territorial independence.

Ambedkar is right if the demand for Pakistan were, in fact, a territorial claim. A difference between Ambedkar’s analysis and that of Professor Jalal is that she does not consider the demand for Pakistan to be, in essence, a Muslim claim for separate and independent territorial control. She says that the essence of the demand was substantial power for Muslims in independent India, and a separate nation-state was not the end-goal for Jinnah and the Muslim League.

A CLAIM FOR TERRITORIAL INDEPENDENCE?

In The Daily Star interview, Prof Jalal says:
“Insofar as nations are imagined communities, the Two-Nation Theory was based on a subjective belief in the right of Muslims, regardless of their internal divisions, to acquire a substantial share of power in an independent India.”

She goes on to say, “It was Congress’ eager embrace of the idea of non-negotiable and indivisible sovereignty that foiled Jinnah and the All-India Muslim League’s efforts to win a large share of power for Muslims in an undivided and independent India.” 

This argument is developed in her book The Sole Spokesman, in which she argues that Pakistan as a separate nation-state was not the end-goal for Jinnah; it was a bargaining chip in Muslim League negotiations with Congress and the British for greater Muslim power in an independent, united India.

Prof Jalal says that Jinnah’s goal was greater power for Muslims in the central government of independent India. At the same time, he wanted influential Muslim leaders in the Muslim majority provinces of north-west India and Bengal to support him and the Muslim League. These Muslim leaders cared more for provincial autonomy than a strong centre, given their status in provinces where Muslims were a majority. It was to bring them within the Muslim League fold, and to put greater pressure on Congress and the British, that Jinnah put forward the Lahore Resolution.

In The Sole Spokesman, Prof Jalal writes that Jinnah endorsed the demand of the Lahore Resolution because he “calculated that, when eventually the time came to discuss an all-India federation, [the] British and Congress alike would be forced to negotiate with organised Muslim opinion, and would be ready to make substantial concessions to create or retain that centre”, with substantial, statutory Muslim representation. “The Lahore Resolution should, therefore, be seen as a bargaining counter.”

Historians will continue to debate how serious the Muslim League was about the idea of Pakistan as an independent nation-state. Ambedkar, writing in 1945, however, took the Lahore Resolution as a serious expression of Jinnah’s and the Muslim League’s demands. One of the most astute political thinkers in India at the time believed that Jinnah and the Muslim League’s proposal involved redrawing territorial boundaries. Ambedkar did not perceive the essence of the demand to be increased power-sharing in a united India.

If Prof Jalal is right and the demand for Pakistan was indeed a bargaining chip, Mr Jinnah and the League were betting for the highest stakes imaginable. Did they foresee that, if they put the chip down (which they eventually did), without being prepared for the upheaval that Partition could unleash, the result would be catastrophic?

One may claim that the violence unleashed by a poorly planned Partition was not foreseeable when the Muslim League leaders made their vague demand for Pakistan. But Ambedkar anticipated it. This is why he wrote that clarity is the need of the hour.

He emphasised it was important to be clear about what a proposed Pakistan should look like to smooth the transition to Independence, and he was critical of the Muslim League’s refusal to put forward a clear proposal about Pakistan. To fill this gap, Ambedkar proposed a plan for drawing of boundaries and population transfer, should the demand for Pakistan be implemented.

But Jinnah, the great lawyer, chose to be vague and kept his cards close to his chest. One can see why a lawyer would adopt such a strategy in settlement negotiations, where the risk is borne by the client alone and, hopefully, the client is made aware of the risks and accepts them. But was this the right strategy for a political leader to adopt in such a momentous period in history?

FEDERAL DILEMMAS

Another interesting claim by Prof Jalal is that the causes of Partition lay in India’s “federal dilemmas” and should not be reduced to religion alone. She says:
“Both 1947 and 1971 ensued from the political failure to arrive at power-sharing arrangements that could have made drastic solutions like Partition unnecessary. If the causes of Partition in 1947 had been properly understood as a product of India’s federal dilemmas, and not reduced to ‘religion’ alone, the policies of the post-colonial state of Pakistan may have been less insensitive to the needs and aspirations of the majority population in the eastern wing.”

In the years leading to Independence, it became clear that India would be a federation. The distribution of power between the centre and the state/provinces was to be negotiated. There was no clear federalist solution to the Muslim claim to nationhood because Muslims were scattered across India.

The federal “dilemma” arose because the interests of Muslims in the Muslim-minority provinces and Muslim-majority provinces were at odds. Muslims in the Hindu-majority provinces would gain from a strong centre with a substantial statutory Muslim presence in the central government. On the other hand, Muslims in the Muslim-majority provinces would gain from strong provincial autonomy, so that they have greater control over the areas in which they already have a strong presence.

The logical flaw in the demand for Pakistan was this: it advanced a solution that was unnecessary for Muslims in the Muslim-majority provinces, if provincial autonomy were conceded in independent India; and it was of no help to the Muslim minorities in Hindu-majority provinces, as they would not be a part of Pakistan anyway!

Ambedkar emphasised this logical inconsistency: “Will Pakistan obviate the establishment of the Hindu Raj in provinces in which Musalmans [sic] are a minority? Obviously it cannot… Can Pakistan prevent the establishment of Hindu Raj at the centre over Muslim minorities that will remain in Hindustan? It is plain that it cannot. What good is Pakistan then? Only to prevent Hindu Raj in provinces in which the Muslims are in a majority and in which there could never be Hindu Raj!!”

It should also be acknowledged that this “federal dilemma” followed from the Two-Nation Theory. In other words, it becomes a dilemma when Muslims and Hindus in India are defined as distinct nations. Therefore, while Prof Jalal may be right to say that Pakistan was a response to a problem that could not be reduced to “religion alone”, religious difference was an inextricable part of the way the problem was framed. That there were many criticisms of this framing and the Two-Nation Theory itself, including amongst Muslims, is well-documented.

It is because of the privileging of religion that it is not so straightforward to link the federal dilemmas in pre-Partition India with those of independent Pakistan. The federalist demands in independent Pakistan were premised on ethnic and linguistic differences that cut across religious similarities.

For provinces in independent Pakistan to demand greater provincial autonomy as a matter of right based on ethnic and linguistic similarities involved a paradigm shift from the Two-Nation Theory. Because the partition of India was premised on the privileging of religious over ethnic or indeed any other identity, it became difficult for the Pakistani state to recognise other identities as a basis for provincial autonomy.

The federalism question in independent Pakistan was also different because, in another sense, it was much easier to resolve. Federalist solutions to demands for greater autonomy for distinct nationalities are feasible when the nationalities are based in, more or less, territorially contiguous areas.

So, Bengalis in Pakistan were largely organised in one territory that could be made a semi-autonomous federal unit. Similarly, the condemnation of the West Pakistan one-unit by Sindhi, Pashtun and Baloch nationalists was justifiable because provincial sub-units organised around ethnic or linguistic majorities were practical. In comparison, the demand of Muslims for a federalist solution to concerns about Hindu majoritarianism was less feasible because Muslims were territorially so spread out across India.

There was something about the logic of the demand of Pakistan that made post-Partition federalism questions difficult to resolve. Resolving these would involve acknowledging space for affiliations other than religion to be the basis of a distinct political identity.

Ambedkar’s detailed analysis reveals the thoughts of a perceptive political leader and thinker on the questions around Partition while it was a live debate with immediate consequences. Jalal’s historical research shows the contradictions in pre-Partition Muslim politics. Their views, read together, seem to affirm the formulation of another historian, Alfred Cobban, who described Partition as a “non-solution to an insoluble problem.”

The writer is a lawyer based in Karachi

Published in Dawn, EOS, September 27th, 2026

Less than a month earlier, on June 30, a residential building that also served as a tuition centre in Lahore’s Kahna town, had collapsed, killing 14 children. The youngest of them was five years old.

The fact that both incidents occurred in Lahore, within weeks of each other at the height of the monsoon rains, brings two basic questions into sharp focus: can the homes of low-income families withstand shocks and is Punjab’s housing policy, which is centred largely on new construction, doing enough for the fragile, rickety homes that vulnerable households call ghar [home]?

It is a cruel irony that the rains that bring relief from the summer heat can also threaten the very shelter meant to protect families. Heavy rainfall can weaken walls, bring down roofs and, in the worst cases, leave families searching through rubble for those they love.

This season, across Punjab, successive spells of rain between June 26 and September 22 have claimed 69 lives and injured another 392, according to the National Disaster Management Authority (NDMA). Among those killed were 29 men, 12 women and 28 children. It is reported that 71 percent of these deaths — 49 people — have occurred due to houses collapsing. Some 104 houses have been destroyed and 122 partially damaged across Punjab.

During the 2025 floods, Punjab recorded the highest housing losses in the country, with 55,134 houses completely destroyed and another 157,963 partially damaged.

Against this backdrop, the Punjab government’s Apni Chhat Apna Ghar (literally: Own Roof, Own Home; ACAG) programme, its construction-loan design and ambitious claims are drawing scrutiny from housing experts and developers over whether the policy will ultimately translate into adequate, safer and accessible homes for those who need them most.

The collapse of homes during Punjab’s monsoon season has exposed how vulnerable low-income families are and raised questions about the province’s affordable housing policies. As the Punjab government expands housing construction programmes and loans, experts and developers question whether building homes is enough if issues such as structural safety, infrastructure and accessibility are not addressed

TACKLING THE HOUSING PROBLEM

Soon after the Kahna tragedy, Punjab Chief Minister Maryam Nawaz launched the ‘Apni Chhat, Mahfooz Chhat’ [Own Roof, Secure Roof] programme in July. The director-general of the Punjab Housing and Town Planning Agency (PHATA), Sikandar Zeeshan, tells Eos that the programme offers interest-free loans of up to Rs500,000 for constructing additional rooms, repayable over nine years in monthly instalments of approximately Rs4,700; Rs500,000 for roof repairs, on the same repayment terms, while Rs1,000,000 is offered for constructing an additional floor, with monthly instalments of approximately Rs9,500.

The initiative is an extension of the Punjab government’s flagship ACAG programme, launched in August 2024, under which low-income households owning plots of up to five marlas in urban areas and 10 marlas [one marla is 272.25 square feet] in rural areas can obtain interest-free loans of up to Rs1.5 million to construct homes.

It requires applicants to provide a valid computerised national identity card (CNIC), own or occupy an eligible plot or house, have no criminal record and provide two non-family guarantors. Applicants also undergo a social appraisal before a loan is approved.

Zeeshan claims that the ACAG programme has revolutionised the whole ecosystem of house-building in Punjab, stating, “In merely two years, 200,000 families have benefitted and, by 2028, 300,000 will benefit from the programme. It may not solve the housing problem completely, but we are confident that no previous low-income housing programme has delivered as much as Apni Chhat Apna Ghar.”

In May 2026, Maryam Nawaz had echoed similar claims, by announcing that more than 100,000 houses had been completed under the ACAG programme, with another 600 to 700 houses being constructed each day.

But experts and developers are questioning the scale, design and the evidence base of the ACAG programme. They ask: was there a comprehensive, province-wide assessment of how many households needed housing assistance and what form that assistance should take? Will the assistance improve housing conditions and reach those most in need?

Jawad Aslam, founder and CEO of the Ansaar Management Company, a social-enterprise developer focused on affordable housing, says, “I find it difficult to believe that 100,000 affordable houses have actually been delivered. While some projects have certainly been completed, I have yet to see evidence of housing being delivered on anything close to the scale claimed publicly.”

On the ground, the picture is more complicated. While the people for whom the programme is intended are aware of the schemes, many still remain apprehensive about applying for the loans. Samina, a domestic helper, says, “For a person earning 40,000 rupees a month, repaying nearly 14,000 rupees a month in instalments is impossible.” Faisal, who works as a sports coach at an elite club, says, “These loans are approved for only those with jaan pehchaan [connections].” Clearly, scepticism remains widespread and, whether well-founded or not, may be a barrier to the very people the schemes are designed to reach.

Their doubts are rooted in a longer history of housing schemes that have failed to deliver on their promises.

Take for instance, the Ashiana Housing Scheme, launched in 2010 under the Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz (PML-N) government of then-Chief Minister Shehbaz Sharif. It aimed to provide subsidised housing for low-income families, but it became embroiled in allegations of corruption and irregularities.

Then came the Naya Pakistan Housing Programme, launched by the Pakistan Tehreek-i-Insaf (PTI) government in 2019, which relied on public-private partnerships and housing finance to deliver on its promise of five million homes nationwide, including an estimated 2-2.5 million in Punjab. That initiative also failed to deliver on its promise. Nowhere near those numbers were ever achieved.

During this year’s monsoon season, along the residential streets of Ahlu Road in Lahore’s Kahna locality, almost every vacant plot became a receptacle for garbage, rainwater and sewage. In the middle of this mess stand rows of newly built concrete and steel houses, some of which have been built with ACAG loans.

HOW REAL IS PUNJAB’S HOUSING SHORTAGE?

In its Punjab Affordable Housing Programme appraisal, the World Bank estimated Punjab’s urban housing gap at 2.3 million units in 2017, with the largest in Lahore (302,000), Multan (215,000) and Faisalabad (208,000). It projected that the shortage could rise to 11.3 million units by 2047.

But measuring the shortage of housing is only one way of looking at the problem. The Pakistan Institute of Development Economics’ (PIDE) analysis of data from the 2019-20 Pakistan Social and Living Standards Measurement (PSLM) survey suggests that Punjab’s more fundamental housing problem is inadequacy, including the quality and structural condition of homes and access to basic services, than simply a deficit of housing units.

PIDE estimated that 12 percent of households in the province — about 2.28 million households— were living in overcrowded conditions, with the incidence slightly higher in rural Punjab than in urban areas. In that sense, the ACAG programme addresses both sides of the problem: helping families build or acquire houses and, through its housing-improvement component, making existing structures safer and more resilient.

According to the Household Integrated Economic Survey (HIES) 2024-25, around 84 percent of households in Punjab own their homes, a figure that remains broadly stable across urban and rural areas. The proportion of one-room dwellings declined from 27 to 21 percent between 2019 and 2025, while houses with two to four rooms increased from 66 to 72 percent during the same time period.

The HIES data reveals that more households are living under reinforced concrete roofs, with the share of reinforced cement concrete (RCC)/reinforced brick concrete (RBC) roofs rising from 35 to 41 percent between 2019 and 2025, while wood and bamboo roofs declined from 13 to eight percent. Burnt brick or block walls now account for 94 percent of housing. Access to sanitation has also improved markedly, with flush toilet coverage increasing from 87 to 94 percent, driven largely by changes in rural areas, and the proportion of households without toilets falling from 12 to five percent.

Unfortunately, the HIES measures only what a house is made of and what facilities it has. It does not assess whether the structure is safe, sound or capable of withstanding hazards, such as heavy rains or earthquakes. In doing so, it misses an opportunity to identify the scale of demand for strengthening and repairing vulnerable homes.

The housing loan product offered by the Kashf Foundation, a non-profit organisation focused on financial inclusion and women’s economic empowerment, underscores the challenge. Anaum Ather, manager research and business development at Kashf Foundation, says the loans are “designed primarily for the renovation and incremental improvement of existing homes, not for financing the construction of entirely new houses.”

More than 80 percent of the foundation’s clients live in homes that they or their families own, making them suitable for incremental investments rather than relocation. The loans are commonly used to add an extra room, repair or replace a roof, strengthen an existing structure, improve a kitchen or bathroom or undertake other home improvements.

Following the devastating 2022 floods, the Kashf Foundation began reassessing its housing loan product. The organisation found that when displaced families returned to their communities, many found their homes destroyed or severely damaged. They had lost their livelihoods and the financial means to rebuild. Ather says, “Our community consultations identified climate-resilient housing as a major priority.”

Before developing its own approach, the Kashf Foundation reviewed existing government programmes and initiatives implemented by development organisations. According to Ather, “We discovered that there was very little rigorous evidence available on the long-term impact of climate-resilient housing programmes.

“Given that many such initiatives were relatively recent, there were few robust studies assessing whether they had actually reduced households’ vulnerability to climate-related risks. This limited evidence base made it difficult for us to simply replicate an existing model or determine which approaches were most effective.”

WHEN HOUSING PROMISES FALL SHORT

A key yet relatively little-known pillar of Punjab’s affordable housing policy is the requirement that private residential developers set aside 20 percent of their schemes for affordable housing. The requirement originates from the Punjab Housing and Town-Planning Agency (Affordable Private Housing Schemes) Rules, 2020, framed under the Punjab Housing and Town-Planning Agency Ordinance, 2002, and has since been updated through the Punjab Housing and Town-Planning Agency (Affordable Private Housing Schemes) Regulations, 2024.

The regulations require developers reserve 20 percent of the residential area or, alternatively, construct affordable housing units on land equivalent to 20 percent of the scheme, for low-income households. Rather than relying solely on government-built housing, the policy seeks to harness private sector investment by making affordable housing a mandatory component of new residential developments, while offering regulatory incentives and streamlined approvals for compliant schemes.

Jawad Aslam explains that premium developments, such as Bahria Town or Lake City, are designed to maximise saleable area and generate high profit margins over a relatively long development cycle. “Affordable housing, by contrast, is a high-volume, low-margin business,” he points out.

According to Aslam, a premium housing project may take up to five to six years to complete, while generating substantial profits. Meanwhile, affordable housing projects remain financially viable only if they can be completed much more quickly, ideally within 18 months. “Instead of earning a large profit from a single development, affordable housing developers depend on completing three or four projects during the same period, to generate comparable returns,” he adds. “Profitability comes from throughput. Time is money.”

Between 2019-22, under the Naya Pakistan Housing Programme, developers urged the government to establish a fast-track approval mechanism for housing projects, to make the public-private model for affordable housing successful. No objection certificates (NOCs) and other statutory approvals were to be completed within six months, allowing developers to begin construction without prolonged regulatory delays.

However, as Aslam puts it, “Under the model, the state was also expected to help create demand, by identifying and directing qualified beneficiaries towards participating private sector projects. Though the necessary regulatory mechanisms were put in place, the demand-side component has proved more difficult to implement.”

This was because, according to him, the Urban Unit (which provides policy advice, research and technical services for urban planning and management) was first assigned to establish a demand aggregation system — a database of eligible low-income households that would be pre-qualified for housing finance through institutions such as the House Building Finance Corporation (HBFC). This never came through. “If that system had functioned as intended,” Aslam says, “developers could have immediately connected with qualified buyers.”

He adds that, under the scheme, housing loans financed through housing finance institutions are repaid over nine to 10 years. “Because developers must wait for loan proceeds to flow back through these long-term repayments, their capital remains tied up for too long,” he says. “This reduces the speed at which they can recover their investment and reinvest in new projects, making the scheme less commercially attractive to private investors.”

For Aslam, everything begins with demand aggregation. The government needs a credible database of eligible low-income households and an effective mechanism to connect them with housing finance. “Once demand is organised and financing is in place, developers can determine the most appropriate housing typologies… high-rise apartments, mid-rise developments or low-rise housing.”

ADEQUATE, AFFORDABLE AND ACCESSIBLE?

During this year’s monsoon season, along the residential streets of Ahlu Road in Lahore’s Kahna, almost every vacant plot became a receptacle for garbage, rainwater and sewage. In the sunken stretches of road, stagnant water mixes with sewage, leaving behind dark, foul-smelling sludge. In the middle of this mess stand rows of newly built concrete and steel houses, their imposing gates rising from plots of barely two to four marlas. Among them are also houses built with ACAG loans.

Nasreen, a resident of the locality, who works as a domestic helper in Lahore’s Model Town, built her four marla house with Rs1.5 million interest-free loans through a non-profit that provides financial services to low-income households under the Punjab government’s housing programme, implemented through PHATA. Though she speaks of her apna ghar [own home] with unmistakable pride, she says, “Every plot is a swamp, a gutter, which gives off a stench and breeds mosquitoes. But, at least this makaan [house] is mine. I don’t have to put up with a landlord or worry about being asked to leave.”

Asifa, another resident of the same locality, built her house on a 2.5 marla plot. Her house, like Nasreen’s, has an open area at the entrance that serves both as a laundry space as well as motorcycle parking. Bedrooms and a bathroom open on to it. A staircase leads to the upper floors, where additional bedrooms are located. Another flight leads to the roof.

Asifa and Nasreen’s houses are alike in another, more telling, way. The interior of both houses are unfinished. The walls are left in their raw grey state. In Nasreen’s house, the rooms and bathrooms have no doors; curtains strung from makeshift strings serve as the only barrier between the private spaces and the rest of the house. “The 15 lakh rupees were just enough to build the lanter [concrete roof slab], buy steel, bricks and cement,” says Nasreen. “The money ran out before we could afford to put in the doors.”

Together, Nasreen and her son, who works as a food-delivery rider, earn Rs70,000 a month to support a household of seven. With a monthly instalment of Rs14,336 on the house-building loan, there is little left for finishing the house. “Let’s see when we can afford to install the doors,” she says.

Asifa, a retired schoolteacher, now depends on her two children, a son and a daughter. Her son works at a factory and earns Rs40,000 a month. “He spends Rs7,000 just getting to and from work,” she says. Her daughter, who worked at a microfinance bank, had to resign after being posted to a branch too far from home, making the commute unaffordable. “We could only afford to buy a plot not near my children’s workplaces,” she says.

Dr Nasir Javed, former CEO of the Urban Unit and an urban-development specialist, says, “By tying access to plot ownership, the ACAG pushes low-income households to the urban fringe, where a cheaper house can come at a higher cost in the form of longer commutes, inadequate infrastructure and the expansion of already sprawling cities.”

Pakistan’s commitment to the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) is broader than simply putting roofs over people’s heads. The SDG 11.1 calls for access to “adequate, safe and affordable housing and basic services” for all by 2030, with particular attention to vulnerable groups, while SDG 11.2 calls for “safe, affordable, accessible and sustainable transport systems for all.” Pakistan’s national SDG framework provides the overarching commitment.

But housing is primarily a provincial responsibility, making Punjab’s policies and investments critical to translating that commitment into practice. Punjab has, therefore, established an SDG Support Unit within its Planning and Development Board, in collaboration with the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), and developed a provincial SDG Framework that seeks to align government policies, development plans and investments with the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development.

Against those commitments, Asifa and Nasreen’s houses lack “basic services” such as sanitation, while their structures remain unfinished or potentially unsafe and the distance from work makes daily life more expensive. Whether these houses translate into lasting improvements in people’s lives is a question that only time, and a credible impact assessment, will answer.

ENABLING SAFE HOUSING

In Aslam’s view, the government’s role is not to build houses. “Its primary responsibility should be to create an enabling environment in which affordable housing can be delivered efficiently and safely,” he says. “That means establishing clear policies, streamlining approvals, improving infrastructure, ensuring access to finance and encouraging planned development before informal settlements emerge.”

The $200 million Punjab Affordable Housing Programme (PAHP), approved by the World Bank in March 2022 and implemented by the Punjab government, was designed to address this shortcoming. It is a long-term sector reform programme, designed to increase the supply of affordable housing through institutional reforms and public-private partnerships. It does not finance individual borrowers.

Instead, it seeks to create an enabling environment for affordable housing by strengthening policies, improving regulations, developing a housing market information system, identifying land, establishing beneficiary and programme management systems and encouraging private-sector investment in low-cost housing. The programme was originally scheduled to close on June 30, 2027. However, the World Bank recently proposed a 21-month extension till March 2029. The programme was set to support the supply of approximately 77,000 housing units over five years, of which 37,000 were to be affordable houses.

While preparing for this ambitious programme, the World Bank carried out a detailed analysis of Punjab’s housing market, covering affordability, supply and the constraints facing developers and lenders. According to a World Bank spokesperson, “The analysis found substantial unmet demand among lower-income households and very little formal supply priced within their reach.”

PAHP was designed to close that gap by reducing barriers for private developers to supply more affordable units and by financing core housing — starter homes that households expand over time — for the poorer segment the private sector does not target. The World Bank spokesperson adds, “The proposed restructuring broadens the route to affordable housing, adding support for lower-income households to build or improve homes on land they already own.”

However, the spokesperson cautions that, “Housing delivery has progressed more slowly than anticipated, due to macroeconomic challenges, institutional transitions, delays in public land transfers and limited private sector participation. The programme is now being restructured to reflect current market conditions and align with the government of Punjab’s ACAG programme.”

Recent World Bank documents have described the implementation of this programme as “moderately unsatisfactory”, with the international organisation raising its overall risk rating of this programme from “moderate” to “substantial”. As of May 2026, no affordable housing units had been delivered under this programme, according to the World Bank.

A HOUSING POLICY BUILT ON A SHAKY FOUNDATION

Dr Javed says that, with an average household size of about 6.4 persons, based on the Pakistan Bureau of Statistics Census 2023, population growth in Punjab alone creates an estimated requirement of 500,000-550,000 additional housing units each year in the province. This is excluding the existing housing backlog and replacement of dilapidated houses. So, while the government’s ACAG programme is, according to Dr Javed, “a significant contribution”, it cannot carry the weight of Punjab’s housing problem on its own.

“It needs to sit within a broader housing policy, one that addresses the cost of a house and the market around it,” he says. He believes the large demand-side subsidies may push up the price of land, construction materials and labour when supply fails to keep pace, and “zero-interest public loans may, in turn, crowd out private housing finance rather than draw banks into the market.”

According to him, a more durable policy would begin with the land itself through higher-density development and faster, more transparent approvals. “It would include affordable rental housing and the upgrading of informal settlements, rather than assuming that every low-income family can or should become a homeowner,” he argues. He adds that credit guarantees and partial interest rate subsidies could bring commercial banks into the market.

More critically, he says, “the state needs to know where the most dangerous houses are, through an inventory of unsafe housing and direct grants towards households least able to repair them. Stronger beneficiary verification, occupancy rules and independent audits would help keep subsidised homes with the people for whom they were intended, while better property taxation, tighter regulation of developers and measures against speculative vacancies could address some of the market distortions that keep housing out of reach in the first place.”

Despite criticisms of and shortcomings in the programme, Sikandar Zeeshan, director general of PHATA, says, “the ACAG target population is predominantly the one living below the poverty line. We have hundreds and thousands of heart-warming stories, where families were living in highly compromised situations and ACAG provided them an opportunity to transform their lives.”

A home must be more than a roof over one’s head. It must be a place to return to after a long day’s work, where one can spend quality time with family, stay warm and build memories. But what if the chhat [roof] meant to provide security becomes a source of fear each time the skies darken? Can it still be called a ghar?

The Apni Chhat, Apna Ghar initiative is still in its infancy and it remains to be seen how widely it will reach, what impact it will have and if it can be sustained beyond the immediate response to the recent building collapses in Kahna and Harbanspura.

The writer is a freelance journalist based in Lahore.
She can be reached at alefiath@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, EOS, September 27th, 2026

Dear Auntie,

I wrote to you some six years ago, when I was a teenager, and thought my problems were probably too small to matter. You may not remember me, but I still do. I am 25 years old now and pursuing my master’s degree. I thought about you today while crying for the same reasons I was crying back then.

I also wrote to you in 2025, when I had just finished my undergrad studies. That was also the year I met my mother after 22 years and then watched her leave again. I was in love, had friends and was hopeful that one day I would feel more at ease. My father was still the same, but I had stopped expecting anything from him.

Today, I still feel lonely. I keep thinking that I am not fit for any relationship because I cannot deal with people and connections normally. What breaks me is having to pretend to be normal and happy in front of the person I thought would ease my mental burden. My mother has cut me off entirely and very harshly. My father is still the same, although he hasn’t done anything bad to me. I have a cat to love.

I am tired of never feeling carefree, even for a day. I keep thinking about what I have to eat and what I have to cook. I sleep a lot these days and cannot do anything properly. I go to sleep crying and wake up crying, for no reason at all. I smoke sometimes.

I don’t know what my problem is anymore. I just know that I feel exhausted, lonely and unable to connect normally with people. I don’t know how to get out of this cycle, or whether I can ever feel at ease.

I don’t even know if you still exist.

Tired of Pretending

Dear Tired of Pretending,

To start, I want you to know that the fact that you didn’t receive a reply from me six years ago or even last year does not mean your problems were too small. I receive far more letters than I can possibly answer, and I have a word limit in my column so it is not possible to respond to everyone. I am sorry about the silence from my end.

Now that I have read your letters together, what really strikes me is that so much has changed in your life, but the loneliness is still there. You have completed your degree, started postgraduate studies, have friends, fallen in love and tried to make peace with your parents. Yet you are exhausted and you still have to pretend that you are fine.

Please don’t decide that you are incapable of relationships. You have been carrying emotional pain for a long time. Sleeping long hours, crying, unable to do everyday things and feeling that you cannot cope are all signs that need to be taken seriously. I strongly recommend that you speak to a mental-health professional rather than continuing like this. You have been struggling for a long time and deserve proper support.

Also, don’t expect your relationship to rescue you from the situation. A loving person can support you, but no partner or friend can carry your burden of years of loneliness and family pain.

For now, just try to make your life simpler. Eat, look after your cat, attend your classes, do the work you can and stay connected to at least one friend or relative that you trust. And find the professional help that you need.

Disclaimer: If you or someone you know is in crisis and/or feeling suicidal, please go to your nearest emergency room and seek medical help immediately.
Auntie will not reply privately to any query.
Please send concise queries to:
auntieagni@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, EOS, September 27th, 2026

More than ever, modern political leaders across the globe are issuing statements that defy logic, science and history. Yet, instead of facing ridicule, these figures are frequently met with applause from their supporters.

Last week, when Polish foreign minister Radosaw Sikorski claimed that Poland could swiftly defeat Russia in a direct conflict, political commentators across the United States and Europe met his remarks with mild mockery. However, within Poland, social media exploded with enthusiastic endorsement. Rather than facing critical pushback, Sikorski’s exaggerated claim was embraced as gospel by supporters. This perfectly illustrates how readily absurd political rhetoric is now absorbed.

In a 2019 interview, Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi, while discussing India’s air strikes against Pakistan, explained that he advised military officials to launch the attack despite heavy rain and cloud cover. He ‘reasoned’ that clouds would block Pakistani radars. Even though radars operate via radio waves rather than visual sight, his supporters championed the assertion as an example of “military genius.” Modi’s historical claims are often even more surreal, such as his declaration that the birth of Karna in the ancient epic Mahabharata proves that test-tube baby technology was invented in ancient India.

In a live 2021 television QnA, former Pakistani Prime Minister Imran Khan attributed rising sexual violence to women wearing “vulgar” clothes. He argued that “men are not robots” and that “if a woman wears very few clothes, it will have an impact on the men.” When he was criticised by women activists, his supporters (including many women) rallied around him, asserting that his critics were trying to undermine “traditional cultural values.”

In an age of algorithmic outrage, identity politics and collapsing trust in institutions, the most outrageous claims can become expressions of loyalty and powerful instruments of persuasion

Following the Taliban’s takeover of Kabul in 2021, Khan praised the event, declaring that the Afghan people had “broken the shackles of slavery.” The statement ignored the ensuing human rights crises while framing a complex geopolitical takeover as a glorious anti-imperialist victory. Many of his supporters applauded his ‘bold’ statement.

During the global Covid vaccination drive in 2021, then-Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro warned citizens that taking the Pfizer vaccine could cause people to turn into alligators and make women grow beards. His core evangelical support base accepted this without hesitation.

In the US, Donald Trump remains a master of uttering similar hogwash. During his first presidency, he dismissed global warming threats by claiming that rising sea levels would simply create “more oceanfront properties.” He reduced a complex ecological crisis to a real estate opportunity while ignoring basic coastal geography. His supporters praised his insightfulness.

These are just a handful of examples highlighting a shift in modern political discourse. This move from facing ridicule for spouting outright nonsense to this nonsense enjoying widespread applause is the result of some drastic changes in media ecosystems, societal psychology and the nature of modern political power.

The primary engine driving the acceptance of absurd statements is what the American academic Dan Kahan calls “identity-protective cognition.” According to Kahan, when political identity becomes tightly tied to a group, individuals process information not to evaluate its objective truth but to protect their status within the group. Accepting an absurd claim made by the group’s leader confirms an individual’s loyalty to the group, whereas rejecting the claim means aligning with political opponents.

Research led by the American professor of psychology and neural science Jay Van Bavel suggests that political loyalty in this regard acts as a “cognitive filter.” It overrides basic critical thinking and yields psychological rewards that reinforce one’s sense of belonging to a group, even when a leader’s claim contradicts reality.

Historically, mainstream media often acted as gatekeepers. A ridiculous statement was processed through editorial standards, highlighted for its absurdity and derided on public platforms. Western media used to take apart various leaders for this — for instance, leaders such as Uganda’s dictator Idi Amin, who was reduced to being a joker, and Libya’s Muammar Gaddafi. Now the same West is struggling to comprehend mouthy far-right leaders in its own backyard.

In Pakistan, Pir Pagara was often treated as a jester for making outlandish political predictions. Cartoonists often showed him with a parrot. Altaf Hussain was another politician who was regularly satirised and ridiculed, even though, to his followers he was a ‘visionary’.  Till the 1990s, such characters were exceptions. Today, they are a norm.

The rise of algorithmic platforms has gradually dismantled the role of gatekeepers. Various studies show that repeated exposure to a statement increases its perceived truthfulness, regardless of how implausible it sounds. Social media algorithms prioritise outrageous content because it drives engagement, causing absurd claims to be repeated millions of times in digital echo chambers.

Studies by psychologists Gordon Pennycook and David Rand on misinformation show that repetition lowers a reader’s analytical guard, transitioning statements from sounding ridiculous to familiar and, eventually, to plausible and true. There are also studies that suggest that politicians, especially contemporary populists, do not utter absurdities by accident. They use them strategically. In their Rand Corporation paper on propaganda techniques, researchers Christopher Paul and Miriam Matthews coined the term “firehose of falsehood” to describe this “strategic disorientation.”

The goal of flooding public space with continuous and blatantly absurd claims is not necessarily to convince everyone that a lie is true. It is used to exhaust the public’s capacity for critical thought. When politicians regularly spout absurdities, fact-checkers become overwhelmed.

Academics at the global research network Evidence in Governance and Politics found that politicians, such as Trump, who aggressively dismiss corrections as ‘fake news’ retain public support and attention by sowing doubt about the mainstream media and fact-checkers themselves. Mouthy populist leaders are still roundly satirised, though. But when they routinely cross into surreal territory, satire loses its power.

German-American political theorist Hannah Arendt wrote in The Origins of Totalitarianism that the ideal subjects of totalitarian rule are people for whom the distinction between fact and fiction no longer exists. When public trust in actual experts and state institutions collapses, expert consensus is no longer seen as a benchmark for truth. Instead, expertise is reframed as an establishment conspiracy. In this environment, an absurd statement from an ‘anti-establishment’ politician is perceived not as ignorance but as ‘bold defiance’ against a ‘corrupt’ system.

The shift from ridiculing absurd political statements to believing them marks a transition from fact-based politics to identity-based politics. When an absurd claim is made, it serves as a flag planted by a leader in the ground. Followers do not process it through a filter asking if it is logically true. Instead, they spend more energy in contemplating which side they belong to if they accept or reject the claim.

Until the dynamics and incentives of social media algorithms change and trust in shared institutions is restored, political absurdity will continue to erode as a punchline. Instead, it will solidify as a rather dangerous instrument of persuasion.

Published in Dawn, EOS, September 27th, 2026

The drive to Sanat Initiative takes you past the busy M.T. Khan Road, which leads to the bustling old city areas of Kharadar on one side and Karachi Port on the other. Past the traffic jam of heavy trailers and rickshaws, around flyovers, a detour branches to the quaint Miskeen Gali. Past this road with godowns on one side, but which still gives you the old neighbourhood vibe, you turn into Sanat’s gallery space, housed in a warehouse.

This location for Brooklyn-based artist Khalil Chishtee’s recent solo exhibition could not have been more appropriate. The expanse of the rough cemented ground, with minimal intervention to the warehouse structure, allows for the dismembered complexity of Karachi to momentarily enter the reading of the work.

The show ‘Nisbat Road to Troutman Street’ is a series of predominantly figurative, mixed media works constructed with grocery, trash and other bags through a layering, cutting and assemblage, in which the figure and metropolis emerge. The process of making, dismantling, peeling and un-peeling mirror Chishtee’s multilayered concerns. Thematically tied to the dislocation and disruption of his times, Chishtee and his artistic practice has journeyed long, going back to the 1960s, ’70s and ’80s.

As a boy in grade five or six, he was admitted to the painter Khalid Iqbal’s adult drawing classes, due to his exceptional figure-drawing skill. Iqbal took a figure drawing by Chishtee to Sadequain, who was working on a mural at a studio in Lahore’s Lawrence Gardens in the 1970s. Sadequain recognised the talent and invited Chishtee to draw in the same studio. This proximity no doubt provided a sensitivity to angst and the freedom to pursue his art with a similar aajizi [humility].

In his latest exhibition, Khalil Chishtee connects the streets of Lahore with the urban landscape of New York, exploring displacement, memory and renewal with plastic bags

Chishtee recalls the grand cinema market, billboard painters and wall-chalkings, posters on walls, posters pasted on top of posters, paintings on them and the graffiti culture around Nisbat Road and Lahore’s Walled City. As a pre-teen, he got early lessons on street culture and dissent, having painted the portrait of Z.A. Bhutto on several walls, before he saw them being whitewashed.

He was old enough to understand the political changes, as they were reflected on the streets. Chishtee is vary of authority and averse to convention, which is probably why he has never allowed his art to fall into a ‘style’. He is constantly revising the script, his art acutely personal, at times blatantly political and often injected with wry humour.

The figure transformed to his experimentation with plastic bags, which entered around 2005, when he visited New York and saw piles of trashbags that resembled human beings. The use of these bags became a critique on consumption and wastage, as well as a synopsis on repair and renewal. The bodies he sculpted also echoed the pain of illness that he had witnessed closely in his youth, something which I suspect allowed him to open his heart and soul to embrace the physical and emotional pain of others.

Displacement has not simply been a physical movement but an everlasting state, a friendship that has, in his words, been “beautifully painful and rewarding. It applies to that which is inside us and the experiences that never leave us. There is no cure, as nothing is ever lost.” Chishtee has often referenced Mirza Ghalib and, at this time, he reflects on Ghalib’s couplet Ghaib-i-Ghaib [Hidden of the Hidden], where Ghalib argues that what we call ‘reality’ is just an illusion or shadow.

There is no lament for or romanticising of the past, for the present and past coexist in Chishtee. In fact, he retrieves the past from the present. It is no wonder then that in the artwork Men with Brushes, the artist David Hockney and a shoe-polisher from Nisbat Road find themselves on the same plane, as if they have just landed at an intersection at Times Square. The street iconography and vibrant culture in neighbourhoods around New York City, Bushwick and Brooklyn, where Chishtee has lived for the past 16 years, help him connect the dots to Nisbat Road.

Duality, whether it is a mirroring of the self or the other, is a recurring element, with figures referred to in titles such as Perfect Pair or Sage, Yet to Be — wise men conspiring and plotting. On closer look, one can read parts of text embedded in the image as an incidental part of the material. The titles help read into the intent of the artist and hint at multiple meanings, an important subtext in Chishtee’s art.

‘Nisbat Road to Troutman Street’ was on display at the Sanat Initiative in Karachi from September 8-17, 2026

The writer is an independent art critic, researcher and curator based in Karachi

Published in Dawn, EOS, September 27th, 2026

While most of the world has been riveted to the latest war bulletins, rising costs of living or planned protests, a few young men and women have been training all year for horseback archery, building up their body strength for tug-of-war, training falcons and producing beautiful crafts, to participate in the World Nomad Games in the rugged mountain valleys of Kyrgyzstan.

Although this is the sixth World Nomad Games, the earlier games have not been on the sports radar the way the Olympics, the Commonwealth Games, the football World Cup or Wimbledon are. This year, thanks to the expanding reach of social media, “the spirit of people echoing across time” reached out to us from the scenic shores of Kyrgyzstan Lake Issyk Kul.

There are sports we never knew the names of, such as tenge ilu [grabbing coins on horseback], assyk atu [knucklebone shooting] and zhamby aatu [horseback archery], as well as some familiar games from bygone days, such as kok boru known to us as buzkashi. Participants dressed to reflect ancient cultures with an ease that made it difficult to visualise the jeans and T-shirts they probably wear the rest of the year. There were no specialist Nike, Adidas or Puma logos, no famous sports commentators, no third umpires.

The brainchild of Askhat Akibaev, a prominent Kyrgyz philanthropist, what started as an idea in 2008 became the first World Nomad Games in 2014, bringing together groups from across the globe, such as the Siberian League of Tradition Keepers, to celebrate ancestral heritage and create a global movement.

From the Kyrgyz steppe to Pakistan’s rural festivals, traditional games are emerging as a way for cultures to reclaim and celebrate their histories

Maria Cholbon, a celebrated Siberian shaman, sees the World Nomad Games as “a true breakthrough — not only in the world of sport, but in people’s consciousness.” While, like other sports, it involves skill, determination, and training, “there is no elitism. You simply step forward and show what you are capable of.”

When the Soviet Union was dissolved in 1991, the restoration of the Central Asian republics brought the steppe cultures of a past world back to life — Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan. The cultural hold of European colonisers was more deeply embedded and is only just being critically assessed some 80 years on.

Games and sports can be seen as war where no lives are lost. It is fierce competition where the loser shakes the hand of the victor. Yet, games were also enlisted by colonisers to further cultural and political dominance, alongside the more overt impositions of language, administrative, legal and economic systems.

Games that dominate the world today, such as cricket, football, hockey, boxing, wrestling and athletics, follow European rules and regulations. Not only did these displace the value of traditional games, subjugated countries learned they could only assert themselves by excelling in these sports. The Indian film Lagaan describes this transition as a motley village team defeats a British Raj team at cricket to be spared three years of taxes. In the 1930s, the Mohammedan Sporting Club based in Kolkata became the first Indian-owned team — a cultural weapon to break the monopoly of British regimental teams.

Japanese and Chinese martial arts have established themselves internationally while maintaining their traditional rules. But the raw exuberance of the World Nomad Games has opened up a whole new space for cultural re-assertion.

The Traditional Sports and Games Pakistan Association was established in 2014 by our equivalent of Akibaev, Nawab Furqan Khan, to preserve and promote Pakistan’s traditional sports and games. Kushti [wrestling], naiza baazi [tent-pegging], gutti [lifting stone weights], bull racing, gilli danda [tip-cat], patang baazi [kite flying] and even kanchay [marble competitions], kept alive in villages, urban bastis [settlements] and rural festivals, are being highlighted once again.

The Horse and Cattle Show of the 1960s was a grand spectacle of traditional games, alongside a celebration of Pakistani livestock and agricultural produce. Tent-pegging has a new generation of enthusiasts, including women. Pakistani male and female contestants participated with honours in 23 disciplines at the 2026 World Nomad Games.

The message of the World Nomad Games, as expressed by Cholbon asserts, “It is possible to preserve your traditions while being part of the modern world. It is possible to show the world who you truly are without having to become someone else.”

Durriya Kazi is a Karachi-based artist.
She may be reached at
durriyakazi1918@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, EOS, September 27th, 2026

The Impossible Fortune: A Thursday Murder Club Mystery
By Richard Osman
Penguin
ISBN: 978-0593653272
368pp.

Richard Osman is back, and he’s not playing it safe.

The Impossible Fortune: A Thursday Murder Club Mystery isn’t just any Thursday Murder Club Mystery instalment. This one could safely be called his most intricate and emotionally layered story to date. Fans of Osman will know the stakes have been rising with each book, but this one? It’s an explosion, literally and metaphorically.

Osman, once known as the charming quiz show host-turned-bestselling crime writer, has firmly cemented himself as Britain’s new Agatha Christie for the streaming generation. His voice, warm, wry and observant, remains intact. But this time, Osman adds a sharper edge: grief, morality and the blurred lines between justice and revenge.

On paper, it’s still a cosy mystery. But scratch the surface and you’ll find a thriller grappling with grief, ageing, cybercrime and even the digital economy of death. Osman uses his trademark humour to explore loneliness and human connection, and how love, in its many forms, often leads to both miracles and mayhem.

Richard Osman’s latest slow-burn thriller continues his trademark balance of humour and morbid mystery, tapping into something deeper — that we all crave purpose, connection and a bit of chaos to remind us we’re alive

The story opens with a bang, quite literally, on a shady website that sells customised bombs. It’s a shockingly dark opener for Osman, setting the tone for what follows. Soon, we’re back with our favourite gang — Elizabeth, Joyce, Ron and Ibrahim — at Joyce’s daughter Joanna’s wedding. Everything’s picture-perfect until the best man, Nick Silver, confides to Elizabeth that someone has tried to kill him. There’s a car bomb, a mysterious code, and a “cold storage” company holding something so valuable people would kill for it.

From there, the Thursday Murder Club is sucked into yet another tangled web, one that spans luxury security firms, old grudges and dangerous new players. Osman masterfully toggles between light domestic comedy and high-stakes espionage. Elizabeth’s intuition sharpens once again, Joyce provides diary-style letters laced with warmth and wit, and Ibrahim and Ron bring the philosophical and physical punch, respectively.

As always, Osman lets the plot unfurl gently, like tea steeping just long enough to reveal its flavour. We get interlocking subplots: Connie Johnson (yes, that Connie) out of prison, mentoring a young criminal prodigy, Joyce’s bittersweet reflections on family and friendship and Elizabeth, still haunted by her late husband, rediscovering her purpose when trouble, as she puts it, “finds her again.”

Let’s take a deep dive into the characters. Elizabeth Best, still razor-sharp, still haunted. Osman lets us see behind her composure, the grief, the fatigue, the thrill of feeling alive again when mystery calls. Joyce Meadowcroft, the heart of the book, steals every page she narrates. Her diary entries are pure gold: funny yet rich. Her reflections on her daughter’s wedding and ageing alone are among Osman’s most heartfelt writing yet. Ibrahim Arif and Ron Ritchie continue to ground the chaos, one with quiet intellect, the other with blunt humanity. Their friendship and banter remind us why we keep coming back to this unlikely quartet.

Nick Silver, a new addition, is Osman’s wild card: a man trapped between guilt and danger. Through him, Osman injects modern paranoia: data, secrets and digital blackmail. Even Connie Johnson, the ex-drug dealer turned mentor, adds texture to the story. Her “reformation”, if we can call it that, is both hilarious and touching.

Osman’s genius has always been balance; humour besides heartbreak, murder besides marmalade. That remains his superpower here. The dialogue sparkles, the relationships deepen, and the emotional beats, particularly Joyce walking her daughter down the aisle, are genuinely moving.

Joyce’s chapters are written in her familiar, first-person diary format, warm, funny, slightly scatter-brained but emotionally acute. She writes directly to the reader, reflecting on daily life, Joanna’s wedding, and the group’s adventures. Her sections carry Osman’s signature charm and provide the emotional heart of the story.

Elizabeth’s chapters give a more strategic and suspenseful tone to the book. With a focus on investigative and espionage aspects, her instincts, her grief over her late husband Stephen, and her leadership within the group come across as rather grave. Meanwhile, Ibrahim, Ron and even side characters, such as Connie and Nick, are great to read through.

This alternating POV structure lets Osman balance the tone beautifully. Stylistically, the book continues Osman’s signature rhythm. But let’s be honest: The Impossible Fortune is long. A little too long. There are chapters that meander, scenes that could easily have been trimmed. Osman’s fondness for his characters sometimes makes him indulgent — he lets them chat (endearingly, yes) long past the point where the plot needs to move. The middle section drags slightly, weighed down by exposition about codes, bombs and who-told-whom-what.

Still, Osman’s world is one we’re happy to linger in, even if the story could use a tighter edit. The reason Osman keeps dominating bestseller lists isn’t just his wit. It is his empathy. His characters aren’t super-sleuths; they’re retirees, widows and worriers, who find meaning in solving puzzles. The Impossible Fortune taps into something deeper: that we all crave purpose, connection and, yes, a bit of chaos to remind us we’re alive.

If you’ve loved Osman’s earlier books, this is a must. You’ll savour every cosy cup of tea, every sharp twist, every line that makes you laugh out loud before quietly breaking your heart. But if you’re craving a pacey, gritty thriller, one with explosions every 10 pages, this might test your patience. Osman takes his time. His murders are rarely about violence; they’re about people.

The Impossible Fortune is witty, warm and well-observed, even if it overstays its welcome by a few chapters. Osman proves yet again that murder mysteries don’t need to be grim to be gripping.

The reviewer is a content lead at a communications agency

She can be reached at sara.amj@hotmail.co.uk

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, September 27th, 2026

Every literary age has its questions, peculiar to its historical moment. One such question today is whether the novel’s global prominence will survive the age of ‘digital abundance’ and artificial intelligence (AI).

In my view, the present boom is likely to decline, but the novel, which I perceive as humanity’s greatest literary invention, will survive, though it will undergo a metamorphosis.

Over the past few decades, the novel has occupied an unusually prominent position in global literary culture, often at the expense of poetry, non-fictional and intellectual writings. It has assumed the throne of the literary kingdom, overshadowing other genres but appropriating their creative resources, from styles and techniques to modes of thought and representation.

In the early 20th century, the distinction between a story (events) and discourse (narration) redefined the novel. Postmodern novels prioritised discourse, discarding traditional narrative rules to blend diverse narrative techniques, along with absorbing philosophy, history, myth and psychology. By merging fact with fiction — creating ‘faction’ — the novel gained immense cultural prestige, readership and elite recognition, such as with the Nobel Prize.

The novel’s cultural authority has rested on many claims, including its relationship with truth. It is fiction, yet it portrays, represents and, in a sense, creates truth. Fictionality is not simply an escape from reality — it can be a means of apprehending reality and its layered complexity.

With artificial intelligence able to churn out words instantaneously, even imitating and combining the stylistic and technical features of the masters, can humanity’s greatest literary invention retain its position of cultural prominence?

The Urdu novel followed a comparable trajectory. It became immensely popular, attracting poets, short story writers, journalists, dramatists, academics, critics and retired people. Many appeared dazzled by the glitter of its throne and treated novel-writing as a route to rapid literary recognition. In the first 26 years of the 21st century, hundreds of Urdu novels have appeared, yet it is difficult to identify a single work that has achieved uncontested, global canonical stature.

Nevertheless, Shamsur Rahman Faruqi’s Kai Chaand Thay Sar-i-Aasman, Mirza Athar Beg’s Ghulam Bagh, Hasan Manzar’s Habs, Anis Ashfaq’s Khwaab Saraab, Akhtar Raza Saleem’s Jagay Hain Khwaab Mein, Rahman Abbas’ Nizhdaan Syed Kashif Raza’s Chaar Darvesh Aur Aik Kachhwa and Khalid Javed’s Naemat Khana deserve mention.

The present boom, however, appears especially vulnerable in the age of AI because AI has intensified the condition that already defines our cultural moment: abundance.

There is an abundance of almost everything: commodities, books, paintings, music, ideas, debates, films, documentaries, series, vlogs, posts, comments and, of course, novels. Yet, every abundance contains the seeds of crisis. The boundary between abundance and chaos is porous — abundance can become unmanageable.

The novel, as a story, possesses the remarkable power to turn a chaos into coherence, but not necessarily the chaos. It is now surrounded by forms of abundance that challenge not only its popularity but also its traditional claim to cultural and epistemological authority.

Abundance extends beyond products to how they are made, shared and consumed. Text, audio and visual media have exploded across platforms such as Facebook, X, Instagram, Threads, YouTube, Netflix, Amazon and HBO. Books, for example, exist on paper and screens, or in audio, complete with summaries, reviews and commentary. AI accelerates this cycle as both a consumer and creator of media. It feeds on existing digital abundance to generate instant new content — simultaneously offering a solution to information overload while contributing to it.

The first law of abundance is that it has no ultimate limit. In certain respects, abundance resembles capitalism and human desire: all three are endlessly innovative but indifferent to permanence. They privilege ephemerality over immortality. As things become old or unfashionable, they make room for new things. Abundance does not mourn what has passed. It privileges the present, retaining memory and tradition only insofar as they can adapt to present conditions.

Surrounded by abundance, writers may find it increasingly difficult to sustain the impulse to create works intended to outlive their moment. They are tempted to produce works that are immediately received and consumed. Yet, the desire for literary immortality relates to the human instinct for survival. Writers seek survival in the contemporary literary world through attention, popularity, prizes and awards — they seek survival in history by attempting to defeat time. The two forms of survival are rarely achieved together.

Historical survival demands an encounter with reality’s complexity through genuinely new aesthetics — requiring solitude and reflection, away from the world of abundance.

The second law of abundance makes traditionally novelistic themes — history, love, war, complex characters and fantasy — instantly available anywhere via AI chatbots, social media, streaming platforms and YouTube. Streaming culture draws on classic novels and explores new themes that AI can now also generate, multiplying both stories and motifs.

This immediate availability threatens the novel’s popularity and cultural authority. In an era where attention is the most coveted commodity, new novels struggle to compete against more instant and accessible media formats offering the exact same content.

The styles, techniques and worldviews of major novelists, from Thomas Hardy to Leo Tolstoy, Fyodor Dostoevsky to Franz Kafka, Jorge Luis Borges to Gabriel García Márquez and Milan Kundera, are now widely accessible in original editions, translations, audio and film. AI can imitate or recombine many of their stylistic and technical features. What was once scarce, exotic or difficult to reproduce is becoming increasingly reproducible. When the originals themselves are so abundantly available, the attraction of imitation becomes harder to sustain.

AI testifies to Michel Foucault’s argument that writing is a function governed by rules and conventions that can be understood, reproduced and codified. Producing a novel through functions associated with a great writer, or generating a new work by combining existing functions, is therefore no longer the miracle it once appeared to be. This abundance offers unprecedented convenience, but it poses a serious challenge — not to the existence of the novel, but to its royal seat and stature.

The third law of abundance is monotony. While instant access to every great book alongside its summaries and reviews seems convenient, consuming literature this way becomes monotonous. Monarchy and monotony now work in tandem. The literary monarchy produced by the novel boom and intensified by the monotony of algorithmic abundance, is consequently vulnerable. Yet, the novel itself is not.

A rebirth is possible if the new novel engages both abundance and AI, without rejecting or merely absorbing them but forging alternative, genuinely human paths. Writers who surrender their style and ideas to AI risk letting machine intelligence overwhelm their own.

The essential human element is ‘struggle’. Before AI, writers could spend hours or days searching for the right word, character or form. This struggle has two dimensions: artistic and existential. Artistic struggle means discovering the most aesthetically effective way of narrating a story; that discovery is experiential, not merely technical. Existential struggle means discovering unexplored and sometimes terribly shocking truths about human existence, history and destiny. How can this human struggle simply be outsourced to an AI tool?

AI is therefore becoming a rival rather than merely a supporter. AI systems are already capable of generating long fiction, and the possibility of AI-generated novels entering the literary marketplace in substantial numbers is no longer remote.

The novel, however, possesses one feature that remains difficult to replace: the experience of reading. Reading differs fundamentally from seeing and listening. Through reading, we encounter language at a level where necessary yet unexpected flaws, hesitations, rhythms and ambiguities may disclose something recognisably human — or reveal its absence. Nothing is more deceptive than language, yet sensitive reading can still make us alert to the difference between human intelligence and mechanical reproduction.

The novel’s newness will lie not in employing new technology but in exploring what is happening to humanity as it is crushed beneath an abundance of things, while a significant part of humanity continues to suffer from their absence. Its deepest subject may thus be the defining paradox of our age: an excess of everything alongside a scarcity of almost everything that matters, ‘humanly’.

The writer is a Lahore-based Urdu critic and short story writer.
The Journey of Ideas is his latest publication

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, September 27th, 2026

100 Rules For Living To 100: An Optimist’s Guide To A Happy Life
By Dick Van Dyke
Grand Central Publishing
ISBN: 978-1538777909
320pp.

It’s true that there is no recipe for eternal life and no single medical procedure can add years to your life. However, film and TV actor and entertainer — with eight decades of experience — Dick Van Dyke, has his ‘100 cents’ on the issue, which he has accumulated over the 100 years of his life.

Not only does he reveal his secrets in 100 Rules For Living To 100: An Optimist’s Guide To A Happy Life, but his collection of advice, stories and reflections on how he has maintained a zest for life can serve as your dos and don’ts. Trust me, he is living proof of their success.

Reading this book is like talking to an elderly relative who has lived a long life. Knowing that this relative might be Dick Van Dyke makes it even better, because generations have grown up watching him on both the big and small screens. He was there when the word ‘Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious’ was coined in Mary Poppins (1964), drove a car that flew in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (1968), had a show named after him that revolutionised TV (1961-66) and solved murders in Diagnosis: Murder (1993-2001) and Murder 101 (2006-08), all between the 1960s and the 2000s.

After that, we went on to see him reinvent himself, playing the antagonist in the Night at the Museum (2006 and 2014) films as well as the old man who danced on the table at a crucial moment in the Mary Poppins sequel Mary Poppins Returns (2018). But there is more to him than can be covered here. What’s important is that he has remained one of Hollywood’s most beloved personalities across generations, and he finally reveals his secrets to making the most of the life we’ve all been given.

At 100, actor and entertainer Dick Van Dyke reflects on eight decades in show business, personal loss and the lessons that have kept his famously sunny outlook intact

Using humour, honesty and the infectious optimism that has defined his career, the legendary entertainer looks back on a remarkable life and recounts stories from his past and present to help readers improve their future. Not only does he recall many stories from his blockbuster flicks and TV shows, but he also gives readers a glimpse into his personal life, one that even his ardent fans didn’t know.

The best thing about this book is that, rather than a conventional autobiography, it is structured as short, easy-to-read chapters, each centring on a life lesson. Some of the ‘rules’ are practical, others philosophical, but all are illustrated with anecdotes from a career spanning more than eight decades. If you are a fan who has followed Dick Van Dyke for years, you will read it in his baritone voice and realise it is not advice from a celebrity but a conversation with an elderly friend over coffee.

Don’t be surprised if he tells you that he was considered for the role of James Bond after Sean Connery left for the first time, that the directors behind both of his children’s classics were not child-friendly folks, or that his fans were stunned when he decided to play the bad guy in an episode of Columbo (1974). Each of the stories mentioned in these pages is true, and the way they are told makes them even more memorable.

From missing an important TV appearance because President Harry Truman’s daughter, Margaret Truman, was given the spotlight instead, to amusing encounters with Hollywood legends such as Cary Grant, this book is filled with anecdotes that can only happen to someone who has been around since the 1950s.

He is proud of the actors and crew he has worked with over the years, especially the ones who created an unusual Oscar using scrap metal for him for Mary Poppins, as he didn’t receive an Oscar for the film. The book would be incomplete without the mention of music, and he devotes several chapters to it, especially his lifelong love of barbershop singing. Whether performing on stage or harmonising with friends, he repeatedly returns to the idea that staying creatively engaged is a key to a fulfilling life.

Why do I find this book one of the better reads in recent years? Just like his fast-paced, no-nonsense TV shows, Dick Van Dyke comes up with chapter titles that are apt and perfect. For instance, there is a chapter where he discusses his deteriorating eyesight, titled ‘Read While You Can.’ Another one about his brother Jerry is ‘Tolerate and Cherish Your Little Brother’, whereas in ‘Save All That Artwork’, he implores readers to keep all the artwork they have created over the years safe because he couldn’t.

It might seem strange, but whatever the older man says in this book is relatable to folks of all ages. His youth might connect with younger readers and his later-life details might resonate with those growing older, while the midlife crisis he describes isn’t much different from what many experience. The way he keeps thanking his current wife Arlene, his ex-wife Margerie, and his kids (and their kids) makes you realise that everyone is important in some way and that thanking them is the best way to acknowledge their good work.

The final chapters take a more reflective turn as Dick Van Dyke confronts mortality. He writes movingly about the deaths of his teenage granddaughter and his eldest daughter, as well as the loss of friends and colleagues, especially Gene Hackman, whose family had a personal connection to his own childhood. He also speaks openly about ageing and accepting life’s inevitable endings without surrendering hope.

Readers seeking scandalous revelations may find little to satisfy them. Dick Van Dyke has always preferred to celebrate life’s brighter moments and this book remains true to that philosophy. Yet, he does not shy away from the incidents that shaped his life, both positive and negative — he frames them as experiences that make happiness more meaningful.

It’s not a feel-good book all the way, though. Dick Van Dyke reveals that he had to seek help to recover from alcoholism during his prime and that his agent rejected some roles because of payment issues, even though he would have done them for free. He also hasn’t forgotten the producer’s docked payment for Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, nor can he forget his close brushes with death, both times involving his own cars and both times with him behind the wheel.

For those who grew up watching Dick Van Dyke, this memoir carries an extra layer of nostalgia. For younger readers, it offers an engaging portrait of an entertainer whose career helped shape modern television and family cinema. No, there aren’t any pictures here, but it’s a trip down memory lane that keeps getting better with every page.

Ultimately, 100 Rules For Living To 100 is less about reaching 100 than about making those years count. Warm, witty and deeply human, Dick Van Dyke’s story leaves readers with the comforting sense that growing older need not mean growing old.

The reviewer is a broadcast journalist who also writes on sports, film, television and popular culture. X: @omair78

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, September 27th, 2026

Writing history is supposed to be based on critical evidence and rational inquiry while recollecting memory is seen to be about emotions — personal and transgenerational — and the sounds and images of the past etched in the mind.

With its innumerable gains for a select population of the developing world in terms of language, skill and knowledge, there are some major pitfalls in the dominant education system — whether in a school classroom or a university seminar — across the Global North and the Global South. One major negative consequence of this system is the inability of most scholars to go beyond what is imparted to them, which is based on narratives of power and borrowed Western categories of analysis. Consequently, history is considered to be objective and memory subjective.

On the other hand, if we take into account the fundamental question raised by the South African singer Miriam Makeba, how can the conqueror or invader tell the truth about the vanquished and the subdued native? All of Western imperial history-writing, and its prolonged offshoots even today — for instance what we see in the case of Zionism and Israel — loses all its objectivity about itself.

Therefore, we also see the rise of ‘subaltern history telling’, which has produced some exceptional works from Ranajit Guha, Partha Chatterjee, Shahid Amin and Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, to name a few, where history is seen not from the lens of power and authority. Similarly, we see the likes of Benedict Anderson and Veena Das, in the wider areas of anthropology, who turned established power narratives upside down.

From the standpoint of a student of literature and politics, I would argue that both history (whether traditional or subaltern) and memory (personal or collective) should not be used to cancel out each other. Rather, they should be analysed together, so that any interpretation of data and facts includes the personal and collective memories of the overpowered and dispossessed.

We cannot take away the credit due to colonial researchers for collecting enormous amounts of data and relating significant events as they saw them. However, situating that data in a larger context and interpreting those events to understand what was happening cannot be left to their word.

In Pakistan, from K.K. Aziz to Mubarak Ali to Ayesha Jalal to a few others (including those who have recorded history about specific regions within the country and around), we find some significant works interpreting history or retelling it. But, overall, these efforts fail to become a movement still because of the continuity of the colonial character of the state.

I hope that changes because there are new historians who are looking at the available evidence from the past with a fresh outlook. However, that will require them to physically organise and intellectually collaborate on matters that shape our individual and collective perception of the past and present and, subsequently, will shape how we as a people view the future. Neither a single compendium nor a couple of compendia will suffice to create a purposeful body of literature. There have to be many.

Both history (whether traditional or subaltern) and memory (personal or collective) should not be used to cancel out each other. Rather, they should be analysed together, so that any interpretation of data and facts includes the personal and collective memories of the overpowered and dispossessed.

One such compendium of history in the Punjabi language that challenges the colonial and the current powerful narratives about Punjab is Aamir Riaz’s Punjab Di Vel [Celebrating Punjab] — which is both a sincere celebration of a resilient language and common folk and a composed account of their largely unrecognised bereavement.

It is a remarkably expansive work on the whole region of Punjab, including its adjoining areas that now fall in India or Afghanistan, from the emergence of the Lahore Darbar in 1799 to as recent as the last year, 2025. Riaz meticulously collects historical evidence, political facts, cultural references and the tragedies inflicted upon the common people of Punjab during this period.

Riaz’s book is neatly divided into nine detailed chapters, 26 relevant annexures, adequate references, a large bibliography, and detailed indices. Besides an insightful introduction, backed by meticulous research he has related four major periods of Punjab’s history since 1799 over these chapters and annexures: the Lahore Darbar, the British Raj, the partition of Punjab, and the current post-Partition Punjab region in Pakistan and India.

He has also looked into old manuscripts and the archival material available on the region and its language. The language that remains marginalised by the state not only survives, it now thrives among the common people. Being a bibliophile, researcher and political and cultural activist for long, Riaz has a definite command over Pakistan’s political history. There are many incidents that he has researched and related that bring a certain kind of neutrality to the arguments he makes. He does not spare the collaborators of power from anywhere, including Punjab, but builds an honest case for the rights of the people who have no participation in decisions that affect their lives.

Something that truly moved me was the dedication of the book to Riaz’s mother, Rehana Riaz. In 1947, she was found as a young survivor in a heap of corpses and did not know who her parents or forbears were. She was never bothered about issues such as whether Pakistan was born on August 14 or August 15. The only thing that mattered to her was that, on those dates each year, she would make offerings to the poor in the name of her parents and the elders she neither knew nor met after 1947.

The writer is a poet and essayist. His latest collections of verse are Hairaa’n Sar-i-Bazaar and No Fortunes to Tell

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, September 27th, 2026

A German designer has created a colourful Hawaiian shirt designed to confuse AI-powered surveillance cameras. Called Digital Camouflage, its strange pattern makes it difficult for the AI systems tested to recognise the wearer as a person.

Designer Simon Weckert developed the pattern using AI in an “adversarial loop”, repeatedly testing and changing it until the cameras’ confidence in detecting a person dropped. While the shirt looks loud and obvious to humans, it can appear almost invisible to the AI systems it was tested against.

Painful skin keeps teen in water

A 16-year-old boy in India says he has spent much of the past five years in a pond because the water helps ease a painful burning sensation in his skin.

Iqbal Sheikh, from West Bengal, reportedly experiences severe pain when he stays out of the water for too long. Despite visiting hospitals and healers, his condition remains undiagnosed. He believes it may be linked to a supernatural cause.

Videos of Iqbal in the pond recently went viral, with some online users suggesting his symptoms resemble erythromelalgia, a rare condition that can cause burning pain and redness. However, there is no confirmed diagnosis.

Peanut butter turns into art

An unusual artwork made from 390 kilogrammes of peanut butter spread across a 25-square-metre floor attracted 48,000 visitors at Rotterdam’s Boijmans van Beuningen museum in the Netherlands. The two-month exhibition honoured artist Wim T Schippers, who died this year. During the display, 48 visitors accidentally stepped into the peanut butter, five phones fell into it and one child reportedly tried to lick it. The museum also received 80 complaints.

After the exhibition, the peanut butter cannot be reused because of hygiene and food safety concerns, so it will be composted. Meanwhile, the museum café served peanut butter sandwiches, with the Dutch favourite combination of peanut butter and chocolate sprinkles proving most popular.

Mountain school gets a lift

A new 288-metre outdoor elevator in China’s Yunnan Province is making the journey to school much easier for children in a remote mountain village.

In 2022, the 268-metre Qingyun Ladder elevator was built beside a cliff to help students from Nizhuhe village reach Guanzhai Village Primary School. Before that, they faced a three-hour climb along steep mountain paths every few weeks. The elevator reduced the journey to about 30 minutes. But the elevator became a tourist attraction, leading to long queues. Students could ride for free but still had to wait. Now, a second elevator, the 288-metre Fuyao Ladder, has opened beside it. It is faster, more spacious and has a 20-metre longer shaft.

Published in Dawn, Young World, September 26th, 2026

In the huge IT lab, about 30 students sat behind bulky monitors. The place buzzed like a beehive of old fans and clicking keyboards.

At the front, Sir Saad, the ever-serious IT teacher, explained “the benefits and disadvantages of Internet usage”, proudly announcing, “The Internet is a new window to global information.” He gave us an assignment to write an essay about the advantages and disadvantages of the Internet.

At the very back sat Asad, the most disciplined student in class. His glasses reflected the blue glow of his screen as he started to type the essay. However, soon the peace was shattered by the agents of chaos, Uzair and Arham.

“General Bison! You killed my father! I will have my revenge!”

“Hahaha! Oh, Ryu, master of the Swagger’s Fist! You are so naive, just like your father! I will crush you as I crushed your father.”

Asad didn’t even need to turn around. He knew Uzair and Arham were at it again. They were supposed to be doing the same essay.

“HADOKEN!” shouted Uzair.

“Close, but no cigar!” growled Arham. “Now have a taste of my lightning!”

“Ah, you got me! I will have my revenge in the next round!” Uzair cried.

“HAHAHAHA!” roared Arham.

“What are you two even doing?” Asad said.

“Just playing Street Fighter II,” Uzair said.

Arham added, “It’s obvious, isn’t it? It’s strange that even with your four eyes, you can’t grasp it.”

“Ignore them. Focus. Save your sanity,” Asad muttered.

He typed: “The Internet gives us access to vast information and a plethora of ideas.” As soon as he had typed it, he was distracted by ridiculous character voice-overs.

“Teehee! I, Chun-Li, know all the ancient secret beauty techniques of China! You boys will never understand flawless skin!”

Asad stopped. Uzair had picked Chun-Li and was trying to mimic a Chinese maiden speaking in a ridiculously high-pitched, giggling voice.

“Don’t look at me like that, Baka! Teehee! My spinning kick will teach you respect.”

Arham had picked Zangief, flexing like a maniac.

“I am Zangief! The Soviet wrestler! My muscles crush men and machines.”

Asad’s hands twitched. He slapped them lightly. No. You’re above this. Focus.

He typed again: “The Internet has been a wondrous invention, but…” Soon it was the same old story.

“Teehee! You can’t hurt me, I’m fabulous!” squeaked Uzair.

“You talk too much,” roared Arham. “I am the Soviet thunder! Prepare yourself!”

“No, you rough brute! Teehee!”

Asad clapped his own hands. Stay calm, he told himself.

But then came the finisher. “Teehee! My beauty is eternal. Ahhhh, nooo! My face!” Zangief had slammed Chun-Li into the ground.

Arham thumped his chest. “I am the Soviet King Kong! Hoo! Hoo!”

Uzair fake-sobbed. “My flawless skin, ruined by a hairy monster.”

Asad’s composure finally snapped. He stood, eyes blazing. “Fine. You want chaos? Let’s have it your way!”

He pushed Uzair aside, cracked his knuckles and took over the keyboard.

“Ken enters the arena,” he declared.

Arham grinned, staying with Zangief. “Hey, friend of Barbie! I will smash your mug!”

“Bring it on, comrade!”

The battle was glorious, accompanied by shouting, fake accents and furious key slamming. Zangief lunged. Ken dodged. Hadoken. Suplex. Counter. Even Tatsumaki Senpukyaku, the Hurricane Kick, but with a cool Japanese name.

Half the lab had stopped pretending to type and was secretly watching.

Round 1: Ken.

Round 2: Zangief.

Round 3: Neck and neck.

Asad shouted, “One more round!” not noticing someone had stepped up behind him.

Arham’s grin faded. Uzair’s eyes widened. Sir Saad was there. Without a word, he picked Sagat.

Asad, oblivious, started the next match. “Arham, you’re going down this time!”

“Sagat ready,” came a deep, calm voice.

Asad was still oblivious. “So you have chosen the one-eyed, eye-patched pirate, Arham. No problem. I will be sending you to oblivion.”

Seconds later, Ken was demolished.

“Hey! Stop spamming Tiger Uppercut!”

The next match started and Sagat won again with Tiger Shots. Two more matches followed, with total annihilation.

Asad blinked. “You’ve been practising behind my back, haven’t you, Arham?”

He turned around and went white-faced.

Sir Saad stood there with a stoic face. Uzair and Arham looked ready to evacuate the planet.

Sir Saad finally spoke. “So this is how you write the essay about the advantages of the Internet I gave you?”

Asad opened his mouth. Then he closed it again.

Sir Saad sighed, sat down and played three more rounds with them, effortlessly beating them all.

As the class ended, he said casually, “Boys, remember to write the essay five more times as punishment and give a presentation in class in my next lesson.”

He said it with a smirk and got up to leave.

Suddenly, he turned and said, “By the way, keep this a secret: I am a great fan of Street Fighter, especially Sagat. Let’s all play next time, but of course, after the work is done.” Then he exited.

The bell rang. Asad looked at his friends. Uzair whispered in Chun-Li’s voice, “Teehee, we are dead.”

Published in Dawn, Young World, September 26th, 2026

Published in Dawn, Young World, September 26th, 2026

At the top of a hill beside a lake, there lived a bear named Bill. He was round, dark brown and hairy. He looked terrifying at first glance, but in fact, he was cute and friendly. He loved to play and roam around the lush meadow.

He thoroughly enjoyed the company of vibrant wildflowers and butterflies. Bill spent his time hopping through the beautiful meadow. Art and craft were his favourite hobbies. He found inspiration in nature’s beauty and scenery, and used it to create something new and artistic.

He loved collecting tiny, multi-coloured rocks, beautiful feathers and dry leaves. He was creative enough to use all his treasures in his artwork.

One day, while collecting rocks, Bill came across a sad bunny, sitting with his head down, weeping.

“Hello there! I’m Bill. May I ask why you are crying?” Bill asked, trying to start a conversation with the sad bunny.

Bill’s kind manner made a good first impression on the bunny, and he felt comfortable enough to open up.

“My name is Goldy. I used to live down the hillside near an old lady’s kitchen garden. It had lots of carrots.”

“Sounds nice!” said Bill.

“It was… but things changed in no time. The old lady sold the house and moved to the city to live with her son.”

“Oh… What happened then?”

“The new owner ruined the kitchen garden. He even tried to catch me. I was about to become his lunch! I lost my home and everything…” he replied, with tears rolling down his face.

“I’m sorry to hear that, my little friend. I can help you build a new home. Meanwhile, you can stay at my place,” Bill’s kind offer made Goldy feel much better.

Bill came up with an extraordinary idea to make his little friend happy. He planned to build a magnificent castle made entirely of carrots. He worked tirelessly to collect rocks, twigs and other materials he needed. He painted the rocks so that they looked like real carrots. While he built the castle, Goldy was busy growing carrots.

One lovely day, as the sun rose over the meadow, Bill’s carrot castle glowed in the warm morning light. All the animals gathered around with Goldy and looked at it in awe. They were truly astonished and couldn’t stop praising Bill’s compassion and creativity.

His art and kindness inspired the other animals to explore their own imagination and creativity. They asked Bill to teach them and take them on as apprentices.

Soon, all the animals began using their time to create new things from the treasures they found in nature. The lakeside meadow was soon filled with vibrant creations and beautiful artwork.

Published in Dawn, Young World, September 26th, 2026

One day, while she was sitting with nothing to do, she looked around and thought, “The world is so big. There must be something that no one has ever seen before.”

As soon as she had this thought, she started doing research. She began collecting maps of places all over the world. While studying them, she noticed an island in the middle of the ocean.

When Mira researched the island, she found no information about it. This made her even more excited. She decided to travel there and check it out herself. Mira knew how to sail because her family lived by the sea and owned a boat. They often went on long sailing trips. So, early the next morning, she took some provisions and sailed off to the island.

After a difficult two-day voyage, Mira finally reached the island. When she stepped off the boat, she saw many lost objects scattered across the island — things that had once belonged to people but had been lost or carried away by the sea.

The island was extremely strange, and Mira was surprised by what she saw. The trees were enormous and frightening, but Mira gathered her courage and decided to explore it.

As Mira ventured further into the island, she discovered that it was also incredibly beautiful. She moved carefully, recording what she saw and taking pictures.

The most astonishing thing about the island was that nothing on it was ordinary. The plants were enormous, and their fruits looked completely different from anything she had ever seen before.

While Mira was documenting her discoveries through photographs, she suddenly realised that the island was sinking. She quickly gathered her belongings and ran back towards her boat.

Mira hurriedly sailed away. As she looked back towards the island, it disappeared beneath the sea before her eyes, as if it had never existed at all! For a moment, Mira wondered if everything had been a dream. But when she checked her camera, she found that all the pictures and videos she had taken were still there.

She realised that she was the only person with proof that the mysterious island had ever existed.

When Mira returned home, she wrote an article about her incredible discovery. She named it “The Lost Island” and included all the information, pictures and videos she had collected during her journey.

The article became very famous, and people from all over the world became fascinated by Mira’s story. Although many people were still unsure whether the island had really existed, Mira knew the truth — she had been there and seen it with her own eyes.

Published in Dawn, Young World, September 26th, 2026

Published in Dawn, Young World, September 26th, 2026

I had a tough childhood as I grew up alone. I was five when my cousins left me and for six years, I never saw them or had them as a part of my life. The boys in my class would team up and humiliate me, even though I was the brightest student in my class.

Despite my school being popular and having many locations, my dad would pick me up and we would walk to his office as it was nearby. Others would think that we couldn’t afford a car.

Everyone thought I cried for attention, but I cried for help. I would get hurt, but others would hesitate to help. I was called hurtful names, which I would smile through. Empathy wasn’t common in our school. I would be accused of stealing, which I would never do, along with many other horrible, unspeakable things.

One day, I hit my head while playing basketball and woke up to something that made me relive one of the worst moments of my life. I saw myself injured, with my knee bleeding, people walking by and me, as a nine-year-old in Grade 4, lying there.

I walked up to my younger self and whispered, “Hey there!”

She looked up at me and exclaimed, “Wait, you look so familiar. Are you my older self?” she asked with interest.

I nodded my head and looked at her bleeding knee. Without hesitation, I rushed her to the sick bay while she asked questions about me and her future. I stopped her questions, wiped her knee and bandaged it.

My younger self asked why I wasn’t there in class when everybody bullied her. She told me she didn’t have a friend. Her story reminded me of what had happened, and I was able to recall everything except being helped.

So I decided to teach everyone a lesson and followed her to the class. As I entered, her classmates were surprised. They began taunting her, saying that she needed her big sister.

It was enough for me to teach them a lesson. “All of you are so ignorant, selfish and failures in your own lives. You bully someone because this is the only solution you find to get the upper hand, whereas you avoid real struggles. Complain about my younger self all you want, but remember, she grows up to become better than you lot.”

Just then, I got a jolt and found myself on the floor. It had all been a dream.

But I felt so relieved and happy, with renewed energy to see my life differently.

Published in Dawn, Young World, September 26th, 2026

July had been blown out like a candle, and clear skies ushered in the new month of August. Summer vacation was extended as always, which increased Catherine’s boredom.

It was not as if she missed her friends, because she had none at school or in her neighbourhood. No one even stood beside her at break time, and there was no exchange of kindness. Although girls came to her to copy her work, Catherine eventually understood what they were doing and stopped helping them.

Catherine was the only child of her parents. Both her parents worked, so she spent most of her days playing in the courtyard, reading books and watching TV.

One day, Catherine was lying on her bed, feeling quite under the weather. Her mother came into her room and said, “Catherine, I thought it was my day off from work, but I had a call and there is some urgent work to be done, so I have to leave. So, dear, have your dinner and study if you wish. And most importantly, don’t open the gate for strangers.”

Her mother kissed Catherine’s forehead and left.

After around just five minutes, Catherine suddenly a noise coming from outside. She got up and looked out of the window. She saw a girl, about her age, stroking a cat. She ignored her and thought about having dinner. As she came downstairs, there was a knock at the door. Catherine peeked out and saw the same girl standing at the gate.

Without opening it, she asked, “Who is this?”

“I am Molly. We have recently moved to this area, so I was strolling around to see if there are kids my age! Would you like to play with me?” she asked.

“Sorry, I can’t. I’m not feeling well,” Catherine said, making an excuse for not opening the gate.

“Okay, no problem. Do you have a favourite drink? Mine is Sting. Listen, what do you call a car running on Sting instead of petrol?” Molly said, laughing.

“I don’t know,” Catherine replied.

“A rocket ship!” Molly guffawed.

“Oh! I know one too. Why can’t you trust stairs? Because they are always up to something,” joked Catherine.

“That was good! Here, why can’t a bike stand up by itself? It is two tired,” cracked Molly.

After exchanging two or three more jokes, Molly left. Catherine felt a bit uneasy. She had her dinner and then waited for her parents. Soon afterwards, Catherine’s parents arrived, and Catherine told them about Molly and all the chat they had.

Her parents became worried after hearing about the girl. Her father checked the neighbourhood and found that no new family had moved there. Her mother and Catherine then looked at the CCTV camera recordings and were shocked to see that there was no one on the other side of the wall, except a cat.

Catherine couldn’t make out what had happened. Who was Molly? A ghost, a hallucination or her loneliness playing tricks on her?

That night, her parents discussed the strange event. They realised that Catherine had been spending too much time alone and might have imagined Molly because of her loneliness. Their daughter didn’t need expensive toys and games as much as she needed their love, attention and comfort. They decided that things at home had to change.

Catherine’s mother resigned from her job, while her father took up a better and more financially secure one. This meant that Catherine would no longer have to spend so much time alone. Her parents understood that they needed to give her more love and attention rather than simply providing material comforts.

From that day, Catherine was no longer an isolated child. She was now a happy and sociable girl who got along well with people.

Sometimes, Catherine still wondered about Molly’s reality because, on the concrete wall outside the main gate, someone has used a sharp pebble to write in crude letters: Molly.

Published in Dawn, Young World, September 26th, 2026