Pakistan ka aik “Shehri” hoon main!

I am one of those suffering Pakistanis who have been enduring the chaos and pain inflicted upon —we belong to this country, not its politics.  No matter which side we supported, we cried and died, brought low only to sink even lower. This one cry carries the tears of thousands of broken hearts across Pakistan, pleading to stop the bloodshed and end the destruction. In the name of both protecting the law and fighting for revolution, it is the people of Pakistan who continue to pay the ultimate price.

As the violence escalates, the country we call home feels more like a prison. Protests, chaos, and unrest have gripped our cities—roads are blocked, schools are closed, and the internet is cut off. People are trapped in their homes, unable to attend to life’s most significant moments. Someone couldn’t say goodbye to a dying parent, weddings are cancelled, and graduations, like mine, moment of pride and achievement, became just another missed opportunity.

Throughout the four years of my degree, I envisioned the day when, after countless hours of hard work, waiting, and perseverance, I would finally be honoured with that gown and cap. My parents would witness the culmination of my efforts, and before we step into the practical world, my friends and I would come together to celebrate our collective success. Yet, that moment like so many others has been taken from us, overshadowed by the chaos and instability now gripping our country. Today, due to the ongoing protests and the complete breakdown of normal life, I find myself confined to my home, unable to attend my graduation convocation. This loss, I know, will stay with me for the rest of my life.

While political slogans of inqilab and qurbani echo, the citizens of this country are paying the price. Is this what a revolution looks like? Is this what law enforcement and governance should result in?
Hearing about the casualties of law enforcement personnel and the increasingly tense situation only deepens my pain. The already confused and divided youth of Pakistan is now even more lost, struggling to find direction in these troubling times. What’s most alarming is the absence of any neutral party to step in and mediate, someone who can help navigate the deep political rivalry and work towards resolving this unrest. Without such a voice of reason, the situation only seems to grow worse, leaving the people caught in a never-ending cycle of uncertainty and pain.

I am not writing as a supporter of any political party. I am writing as a Pakistani who opened his eyes in an independent state. I believed in its promise, but today, I see despair. The leaders who should unite us are dividing us. The chaos they create is making people hate the country they were once proud to call home.

Who will think of Pakistanis? Who will listen to their cries? We are fading—not just physically but emotionally and mentally.

Written by: Noor Fatima Seyal