Opinions

Suhail Warraich

Bulleh Shah lived through an era marked by political and economic crises; he described the rise and fall of power, the fluctuations in law and order, and social upheaval with great skill and eloquence. His words came to mind during the recent talk of an “emergency”; although he spoke of his own time, his verses seem to apply not to three centuries ago, but to the present day.
الٹے ہور زمانے آئے / کاں ککڑنوں مارن لگے / چڑیاں جرّے کھائے / الٹے ہور زمانے آئے /سچیاں نوں پئے ملدے دھکے / جھوٹے کول بہائے / الٹے ہور زمانے آئے / بلھیّا حکم حضوروں آیا / تِس نوں کون ہٹائے / الٹے ہور زمانے آئے۔
Bulleh Shah observes, “Times have changed so drastically that crows are overpowering roosters and sparrows are subduing hawks; those who speak the truth face rejection and hardship, while liars sit in the company of the powerful. When the command comes from ‘Above,’ who can avert it? Truly, the world has turned upside down.” A careful reading and understanding of Bulleh Shah’s verses illuminates the entire saga behind the imposition of the emergency. Regarding the collaboration between the political sphere and the establishment within the “hybrid” government.
The PML-N initially stalled the emergency for days, and the PPP subsequently stepped in, attempting in its own way to avert or postpone it. Yet, what is destined cannot be avoided; as Bulleh Shah put it, the command came from the divine meaning it originated from the heavens, so its implementation was inevitable. It remains to be seen what the political, administrative, and social repercussions of the simultaneous imposition of an emergency and Governor’s Rule will be. From a political perspective, the most significant point is that the Tehreek-e-Insaf has completely withdrawn from the national political system as a party. The Tehreek-e-Insaf held power in Pakhtunkhwa for nearly 13 years a tenure that, barring the interim government period, sets a record for continuous rule by the party in the province. During this time, Pervez Khattak, Mahmood Khan, Ali Amin Gandapur, and Sohail Afridi served successively as Chief Ministers. Pervez Khattak strengthened the Tehreek-e-Insaf into a robust political platform through a combination of political manoeuvring and development initiatives. While Mahmood Khan’s tenure fared slightly better than that of Punjab’s Buzdar, his term was largely characterized by a sense of impending departure, with no major achievements or significant projects accomplished.
Following the 2024 elections, Imran Khan nominated Ali Amin Gandapur as Chief Minister. Gandapur proved to be a political wizard; on one hand, he used his flute to charm the male and female serpents within the Tehreek-e-Insaf, while on the other, he used melodious tunes to appease the dragons lurking among the powerful. Yet, his wizardry could not last long. The very flute with which the “jogī” (snake charmer) had tamed those serpents fell victim to the clamour and rage of one female serpent. Then came Sohail Afridi. ‘Prisoner 804’ desired a Chief Minister for Khyber Pakhtunkhwa who would neither play the flute nor act as a wizard but rather transform into a dragon to launch an assault against the government opposing Tehreek-e-Insaf and the powerful establishment. Afridi initially played the magical flute, but the pressure was so immense that he soon broke the instrument and transformed into a dragon. He knew that dragons could easily fall prey to hunters, yet he deemed political martyrdom preferable to mere homicide; he chose that path. Now, even after facing a state of emergency, he has emerged as a more significant political figure than before.
As Chief Minister, the federal government and the establishment had already pulled the ground from beneath his feet, rendering him unable to deliver anything; thus, political martyrdom was precisely what he what he ultimately attained. The government in Pakhtunkhwa served as a safe haven for Tehreek-e-Insaf leaders across the country, and the Chief Minister by virtue of his position acted as their economic and political shield. Since the Chief Minister is an integral part of the power structure, the party’s issues and stance were represented in every meeting; such presence within the system is crucial. Being completely knocked out of the system after thirteen years is a major blow to Tehreek-e-Insaf. On the other hand, the suspension of the elected government, the imposition of Governor’s Rule, and the declaration of an emergency could herald a massive crisis. Tehreek-e-Insaf is the largest political party in Pakhtunkhwa; while in power, it possessed a political mandate regarding the fight against the Taliban. Now that the party’s government has fallen and it is absolved of that responsibility, it is likely to openly support the Taliban and militants while intensifying its verbal opposition to the military operation.
Consequently, the political ownership of the operation will shift from the provincial level to the federal level. Unlike the ANP, which stood firmly with the establishment regarding the military operation, the Tehreek-e-Insaf never took such a stance; while the Taliban launched assassination attempts against almost every ANP leader, the Chief Minister, ministers, and lawmakers of the Tehreek-e-Insaf were never targeted in this manner, owing to their weak and conciliatory position. Following the imposition of the state of emergency, the government-imposed constraints on them will vanish, allowing them to openly voice support for the Taliban and publicly oppose the operation. The country’s political situation has become increasingly grave since the emergency was declared; attempts to reach an understanding or reconciliation with the Tehreek-e-Insaf or to govern the state collaboratively have failed completely. It appears that the establishment, the PML-N, and the PPP have all come onto the same page regarding the imposition of the emergency, executing this extremely difficult political move through mutual consultation.
Although the three parties appeared united regarding the issues of Tehreek-e-Insaf and Pakhtunkhwa, underlying differences remain concealed beneath this apparent consensus. The question of new provinces is the most critical issue; reports indicate that President Zardari has held high-level meetings to discuss the creation of new provinces and various alternative proposals. Despite Bilawal Bhutto’s vehement opposition, President Zardari continues to meet daily with key figures within the system. While no formula for resolving these differences has yet emerged, negotiations appear to be ongoing in a friendly rather than acrimonious atmosphere; nevertheless, a significant gap remains between the positions of the two sides. When Bulleh Shah was consulted regarding the upheaval in the political landscape, he justified the situation with the phrase “Hukam Huzooron Aaya” (The command came from the authorities). Regardless of what anyone says, these are neither normal political times nor a standard political era; the imposition of an emergency or Governor’s Rule signifies an extraordinary crisis. It must be remembered that crises are ultimately resolved through negotiation, and the key to successful negotiation is flexibility. The imposition of an emergency represents the failure of flexibility and the triumph of stubbornness and ego.

Grandmaster Raymond Keene OBE

Patron of the Labour Asians Society
World Mental Health Day, observed on Saturday, 10 October, offers humanity an opportunity to reflect upon one of the greatest paradoxes of modern civilisation. We have achieved extraordinary advances in science, technology and material prosperity, yet too often neglect the most remarkable instrument responsible for these achievements: the human mind.
Mental health is not merely a medical concern. It is a fundamental measure of our humanity, influencing individual happiness, family stability, economic productivity and national wellbeing.
More than three decades ago, I co-founded The Brain Trust Charity with the internationally celebrated thinker Tony Buzan, creator of mind mapping. Our mission was founded upon a simple conviction: intellectual potential must be nurtured, human suffering alleviated and compassion translated into meaningful action.
Professor Michael Crawford of Imperial College has long highlighted the profound relationship between brain health, nutrition and human wellbeing. The economic and social consequences of mental ill health are immense, extending far beyond healthcare expenditure into lost opportunities, diminished productivity and disrupted lives.
Depression, anxiety, addiction and other mental health conditions affect millions worldwide. Behind every statistic stands an individual, a family and a future potentially transformed by timely intervention.
We must therefore ask ourselves an uncomfortable question: what value is there in extending human life if we fail to improve its quality?
Prevention, early intervention, accessible treatment and public education must become essential priorities. Governments should recognise that investment in mental wellbeing is not simply expenditure but an investment in society’s future.
The Brain Trust approaches these challenges through integrity, innovation and inclusivity. Our organisation operates through voluntary commitment, without paid officials or individual salaries, allowing resources to be directed towards charitable objectives.
Our international network connects distinguished thinkers, professionals and compassionate individuals, combining global vision with meaningful local impact.
We believe that charity must transcend conventional fundraising. True philanthropy creates opportunities, develops partnerships and multiplies the positive consequences of generosity.
Tony Buzan taught us that the human brain possesses extraordinary potential. Yet intelligence without compassion remains incomplete. Knowledge acquires its greatest value when employed to improve the lives of others.
Our principles reject discrimination based upon disability, race, religion, gender, age or economic circumstances. Human dignity must remain universal.
On this World Mental Health Day, political leaders, healthcare professionals, charities and communities must recognise their shared responsibility. The Labour Government’s commitment to national renewal should embrace mental wellbeing as an essential foundation of hope, opportunity and social progress.
Indeed, the greatest achievement of enlightened leadership may not be the suffering it successfully treats, but the suffering it prevents.
A prosperous nation cannot be measured solely through economic growth, impressive buildings or technological advancement. Its true greatness lies in the wellbeing, dignity and opportunities afforded to its people.
The future of mental health must be built upon hope, understanding, prevention and collective responsibility.
For the human mind is our greatest resource, compassion our noblest strength, and protecting both our most enduring responsibility.
The future is not merely something we inherit. It is something we create, one mind, one compassionate action and one enlightened decision at a time.

Iqbal Latif

Third, and this is the heart of it, the world loses its customers. An economy runs on demand, on people who earn and then spend. AI is already reducing the need to pay human beings for thinking work. I have seen it in my own business: legal letters and filings that once needed senior lawyers are now drafted with a machine. Lawyers and consultants will need fewer hands. There will still be a great demand for people who serve, who cook, clean, carry, care and drive, until the robots arrive for those jobs too. As wages shrink, one of the great tax bases of the modern state shrinks with them, and taxes must move to consumption, to capital, or to the owners of the machines. Fewer wages mean less to spend, unless something else replaces them, and the something else is the check that nobody has shown how to pay for. And a robot, however clever, buys nothing. It has no wants, no family, no hunger and no pleasure. The more robots do the work, the fewer people have money to buy what the robots make. Henry Ford’s factories needed buyers, and higher wages helped create them. Musk is building the factory and removing the buyer.
Fourth, the cradle empties faster. He tells us we need robots because the birth rate is falling. But a young couple has children when they feel secure: a job, an income, a future they can see. Take those away and fewer children are born. Put his robots beside the long fall in human numbers, and the two curves meet in a strange place: more machines every year, fewer people every year, until each human being is waited on by several robots and there is almost nobody left to wait on.
So the world divides into two economies. The first is small: the people who own the machines, the models, the rockets, the satellites and the rights. The richest 1% already hold close to half the world’s wealth, and this future hands them the rest of the means of roduction, including the wires through which the rest of us speak. The second is everybody else, living at the edge of the machine economy, not needed to make anything and paid a check to consume what it makes. And what happens to their savings? Their pensions are invested, automatically, in the shares of the machine economy that no longer needs them. The periphery pays for the centre. The many fund the few, and the few call it abundance.
His answer to all of this is that money will not matter. Grant that too. Money is only a claim on real things. Robots can make the claim free. They cannot make the steel free, or the energy, the chips, the launch pads, the factories or the years. I have written before that real wealth grows only as fast as concrete can be poured and steel can be laid, while paper wealth moves at the speed of a mood. Take money away, and scarcity does not vanish. Someone still has to decide what the robots, the mines, the power stations and the rockets are used for: Mars or Manchester, orbital computers or a grid for Africa, a robot for every home or a home for every family. If money no longer makes that decision, something else must. History offers only two answers at this scale. The first is total war. By 1944 American military spending took roughly two fifths of everything the country produced. It lasted four years, and it was paid for with rationing, conscription, war bonds and a nation told to sacrifice. The second is the planning ministry, where the state decides what is built and who works. At the height of Apollo, the greatest peaceful effort of the last century, the whole of NASA took about 4.4% of the federal budget, and it was cut soon after the flag was planted on the Moon.
Follow it to the end, and there are only three ways it can finish. The first is that the arithmetic fails, as I believe it will, and the promise ends the way NEOM is ending. Then the loss does not fall on the man who sold the vision. He has already been paid, in control and in shares. It falls on a hundred million savers: a little on each of them, never enough for any one of them to fight. The gain was concentrated and the loss is spread thin, and because it is spread thin, the next story can be sold again. The second is that it half succeeds. Robots do most of the work, satellites take a large share of the world’s communications, and a handful of owners hold the machines. Then a small class owns everything, a large class lives on checks and has no say in what is built, and the Treasury prints the checks at the pleasure of the owners. That arrangement had a name in the Middle Ages: feudalism. The man who says money will not matter holds 85.1% of the vote in the company that builds the rockets and the satellites, and his shares vest on market value, not on generosity. The third is that the state steps in to decide who gets the steel, the power and the robots, because money no longer can. That is the war economy, run permanently.
Not one of these three is the paradise on the poster. A man who built his fortune in the freest capital market on earth is describing a future that could only be paid for by a war economy or a planning ministry. The kind of economy his future needs is the kind of economy he would never agree to live in.
And there is one more fact, which may be the most important sentence in this essay. In its own accounts, SpaceX judged both sets of milestones in his share grants, the Mars colony and the 100 terawatts in space, improbable, and recorded no expense for either. The company that sells this future to pension funds prices it at nothing in its own books.
The arithmetic tells us the bill. It does not tell us the loss. I spend hours every day working with a machine. It checks my figures, finds my sources and argues with me until the thought is clear. It is the best tool I have ever used. But it is a tool. If I spent those same hours with it for company, for comfort or for love, people would rightly say I had lost my mind. So why are we being sold a future in which that madness becomes normal?
Today, while I was out walking, my wife called me. In the building where I have lived for 20 years, 140 flats drain through one pipe, and something had blocked it. Thousands of gallons of waste were backing up into the basement. I went, I saw it with my own eyes, and I stayed until it was solved. A machine could perhaps have cleared the pipe. But no one would have called a machine, and no machine would have cared whether 140 families went to bed with clean water. Not long ago, by the Thames at high tide, I saw a small child standing at the very edge of the bank. I went to his parents and asked them to hold him. That is what a human society is: people who answer the call for one another.
I still stop to admire beauty when it passes: a helicopter landing, a river in flood, a child kicking a football, a stranger walking by. A machine can compose a tune, but it cannot feel the tune. It can cook a dish, but it cannot taste it or share it at a table. Artificial music and artificial food made by machines, for people who no longer need each other, is not a civilisation. The machines will not take our place by force. I have never believed that, and I do not believe it now. The danger is that we hand our place to them, one comfort at a time: served, fed, entertained and told to sit quietly, until the touch of another person has nothing left to do. We are not born to be served. We are born to create, to struggle, to work and to love. Ten billion robots serving a shrinking humanity is not an economy. It is a waiting room.

I will change my mind the day his company publishes five numbers. The cost of a useful computation in orbit. The cost of a tonne brought back from the Moon. The cost of keeping one person alive on Mars for one year. The cost of carrying one gigabyte to a phone in a crowded city from orbit, against the tower on the street. And the funding plan: whose savings pay, for how many years, and what the savers get back if money no longer matters. Bring the arithmetic, and my retraction will print in the same size type as this charge.
I granted him everything. I granted him the rockets, the robots, the satellites, the lenders and the credit. And the arithmetic still does not close. Not because the rockets fail, but because the bill arrives before the paradise does, and it is sent to us.
I wish this is wrong.

Th Balance Sheet of the Earth, 2027 to 2050
Every company that asks for money must show a balance sheet. Nobody has shown one for the planet that is being asked to pay for this future. So here is mine, in plain words, for the 23 years from 2027 to 2050, the year he has named for a city of 1 million on Mars. Every figure comes from the essay above.
What we have. The world earns about $124 trillion a year. Over the next 23 years, growing at a normal pace, it will earn about $4,000 trillion in total. Of that, about a quarter, $1,000 trillion, at today’s share of investment, is what the whole world spends on building anything: houses, roads, power, hospitals, schools, factories, and replacing what wears out. That is the building budget of the planet for a generation. Behind it stand about 8.2 billion people, 3.5 billion of them working, whose wages pay the taxes, fill the pensions and buy the goods. Its pension funds hold nearly $60 trillion. It makes about 30,000 terawatt hours of electricity a year.
What his fantasy demands. Ten billion robots by 2040, built at about 700 million a year, and then about 700 million a year to replace them as they wear out, so that by 2050 the world has built some 19 to 20 billion in all: $400 to $500 trillion. Computers in orbit big enough to use five times all the energy humanity has today: $100 to $200 trillion just to launch. A city of 1 million people on Mars, a mine on the Moon and a million satellites replaced every five years: several trillion more, plus a fuel factory on Mars and a Martian city that nobody has priced. Total: about $500 to $700 trillion. And on top of that a check for every person alive, which at $30,000 a year each, my figure and not his, would cost $246 trillion a year, twice what the whole world earns.
The gap. On these assumptions, his future takes half to two thirds of the world’s projected investment at today’s share, for 23 years. That means half the houses, grids, schools and water plants that the world would otherwise build do not get built. The check for everyone cannot be paid at all: from 2036, the year he says money stops mattering, to 2050, it would cost about $3,700 trillion, more than everything the planet will earn in that time, and the wages that would have paid for it are the wages the robots take away. His robots alone would use almost all the electricity the world makes today, before the orbital computers are switched on.
What we get back. A settlement of 1 million people on Mars. Industry on the Moon. Vast computing in orbit. Ten billion humanoid machines. Each may have value. What has never been shown is the return on the capital needed to build them: what the Moon sells back to Earth, what a calculation in orbit costs against one on the ground, what a Martian city makes that pays for its imports, and who buys the output of 10 billion robots when human wages are gone. And the one business with a market we can measure, the satellites, could take every phone bill on earth, about $1 trillion a year, and still bring in barely a twentieth of the $20 to $28 trillion spent every year to reach it.
What the same money buys here. Power lines from one end of the earth to the other, carrying sunshine from the deserts, for $2 to $3 trillion. Fresh water for every dry coast in Africa and Asia for a few trillion more. Every school, clinic and grid the poor world lacks, and the replacement of every worn out thing the rich world already has. All of it creates things that people alive this century will use: electricity, water, schools, clinics, homes and work, on the planet where 8 billion people already live.
Who signs. A banker who saw this on his desk would ask one question before anything else. The answer is that nobody signs. The pension funds bought the shares because the index funds they hold were required to, the Treasury prints the checks because a speech told it to, and the man who drew up the plan holds 85.1% of the vote, while the company itself recorded no expense for his milestones because it judged them improbable.
In one sentence: on these assumptions, he asks the world to spend half of its projected investment for a generation on things whose return has never been shown, paid for by people whose jobs the plan removes, and nobody has been asked to sign.

Atta Haq

In a world increasingly dominated by appearances, social media, material success and carefully constructed images, one of life’s greatest lessons remains remarkably simple: “Don’t trust everything you see. Even salt looks like sugar.”
This powerful observation carries a profound message about human nature, relationships, trust and the importance of looking beyond appearances before forming judgements.
At first glance, sugar and salt appear almost identical. Both are white, crystalline and seemingly indistinguishable. Yet their taste, purpose and impact are entirely different. The same principle applies to people, opportunities and circumstances we encounter throughout our lives.
Not everything that shines is valuable, not everyone who smiles is sincere, and not every attractive opportunity leads to success.
We live in an age where appearances frequently overshadow authenticity. Social media platforms showcase carefully selected moments of happiness, wealth and achievement, often concealing the struggles, sacrifices and realities behind them. People are increasingly judged by their possessions, popularity and public image rather than their character, integrity and contributions to society.
But genuine value cannot always be measured by what the eyes can see. Throughout my personal and professional journey, I have learned that trust should never be built solely upon impressive words, grand promises or charming personalities. True trust develops through consistency, honesty, loyalty and actions over time.
Words may create impressions, but actions reveal character. Some individuals enter our lives offering extraordinary promises, yet disappear when challenges arise. Others may speak very little but stand beside us during our most difficult moments. It is often adversity, rather than prosperity, that reveals the true character of those around us.
This lesson is particularly relevant in business, leadership and community service. Successful leadership requires more than ambition and confidence. It demands wisdom, patience, emotional intelligence and the ability to distinguish genuine commitment from superficial enthusiasm.
A wise leader listens carefully, observes patiently and makes decisions based on evidence rather than appearances. Trusting people is important, but blind trust without understanding can lead to disappointment.
However, caution should never become cynicism. The message is not that everyone should be viewed with suspicion. Rather, we must develop the maturity to balance an open heart with a thoughtful mind. Kindness and wisdom should complement each other, not compete.
Life also teaches us that genuine relationships are not defined by how many people celebrate our achievements, but by how many remain supportive when the applause fades.
Surround yourself with individuals who value honesty over flattery, loyalty over convenience and meaningful progress over temporary recognition.
Never allow disappointment to destroy your kindness, but never allow kindness to silence your judgement.
Ultimately, appearances may attract attention, but character earns respect. Wealth may create influence, but integrity builds lasting credibility. Popularity may bring recognition, but sincerity creates meaningful relationships.
The greatest wisdom lies in understanding that everything is not necessarily what it appears to be. Before placing your trust in someone, observe their actions. Before making important decisions, examine the reality. And before judging anyone, look beyond the surface.
Because in life, as with sugar and salt, appearances can be remarkably similar, but the truth is discovered only through experience. Remember: Trust with wisdom, judge with fairness, and always let character speak louder than appearance.

Dr. Shahzad Qureshi

In a world increasingly driven by recognition, social media validation, public admiration and the pursuit of personal success, we often forget one of life’s most profound truths: our true character is not defined by what we do in front of others, but by the choices we make when nobody is watching.
Character is the invisible foundation upon which integrity, trust, leadership and human dignity are built. It is not something we can purchase, inherit or manufacture through carefully presented public appearances. Rather, it develops through everyday decisions, particularly those moments when doing the right thing offers no reward, recognition or applause.
We live in an age where achievements are celebrated instantly, generosity is frequently publicised, and success is measured through popularity and influence. Yet genuine goodness requires no audience. A person who helps someone in difficulty without expecting gratitude demonstrates a deeper understanding of humanity than someone who performs charitable acts merely to attract attention.
Similarly, honesty becomes meaningful when dishonesty could offer personal advantage without the risk of being discovered. Integrity is choosing fairness when injustice would be easier, remaining loyal when betrayal would be convenient, and keeping promises even when circumstances become challenging.
These seemingly small decisions reveal the true strength of an individual’s moral compass.
Leadership provides another powerful example. A genuine leader does not demonstrate greatness through titles, authority or public recognition alone. True leadership emerges through accountability, compassion, humility and the courage to make difficult decisions for the greater good.
The most respected leaders are often those who quietly support others, share opportunities, acknowledge mistakes and stand by their principles even when doing so comes at a personal cost.
Our society desperately needs more individuals who understand that reputation and character are not necessarily the same. Reputation reflects what people believe about us; character represents who we truly are.
Reputation may open doors, but character determines whether we deserve to remain behind them.
This principle extends beyond professional leadership into family relationships, friendships and community life. How we treat people who cannot offer us anything in return speaks volumes about our values. Respecting a stranger, supporting someone experiencing hardship, acknowledging another person’s contribution and showing kindness without expectation are powerful expressions of genuine humanity.
Importantly, character is not established through one extraordinary gesture. It is cultivated through hundreds of ordinary decisions, repeated consistently throughout life.
Every day presents opportunities to choose between convenience and conscience, selfishness and generosity, pride and humility, silence and moral courage.
Ultimately, success without integrity is fragile, influence without compassion is hollow, and recognition without substance is temporary.
The greatest legacy we can leave behind is not simply the wealth we accumulate, the positions we occupy or the applause we receive. It is the trust we inspire, the lives we positively influence and the principles we uphold.
When the audience disappears, the cameras stop recording and the applause fades, what remains is our character.
And that, more than anything else, defines the true measure of a human being.

Fatima Zaman

Recovery from mental illness is rarely a straight line. In more than 25 years of working alongside adults with mental health needs, I have learned that it is not a single moment of being “well”. It is the slow, deliberate rebuilding of a life: a routine, a sense of purpose, relationships, and the belief that tomorrow can be better than today.
Too often, our system treats recovery as the absence of crisis. A person is stabilised, discharged and expected to cope. Without the skills, support and confidence to live independently, many return to hospital, to substances, or to isolation. I believe we can, and must, do better.
Recovery and rehabilitation belong together. Recovery is personal. It is about hope, identity and the right to define a meaningful life on your own terms, even while symptoms remain. Rehabilitation is practical. It is the structured work of building the skills and resilience that make that life sustainable.
One without the other falls short. Hope without skills leaves people stranded. Skills without hope leave people going through the motions. Good care holds both, so that each person moves forward with confidence as well as capability.
Dual diagnosis: treating the whole person. Many of the people we support live with both a mental health condition and problematic drug or alcohol use. These needs are tangled together. Substances are often used to cope with distress, and that same use then deepens the distress. Treating one in isolation rarely works.
As a qualified drug and alcohol recovery practitioner, I have seen how much changes when both are addressed together, under one roof, by people who understand each. Integrated support means no one is bounced between services or told to “get sober first” before their mental health will be taken seriously.
Physical health matters too. A healthy body supports a healthy mind, so exercise, good nutrition and regular routines are part of recovery, not an afterthought.
The everyday skills that make independence real. Independence is built in small, ordinary moments. Cooking a meal. Paying a bill on time. Keeping a tidy home. Getting to an appointment. Building a friendship. For someone emerging from long illness or hospital stays, each of these can feel enormous.
Rehabilitation means practising these activities of daily living, with support that gradually steps back as confidence grows. The goal is never dependency on a service. It is a person who can hold a tenancy, manage their own life and take their place in the community, with the right support around them when they need it.
The SERENITY approach. At Serenity UK Care, a CQC-rated Good provider of residential care and supported accommodation, our practice is built around the letters of our name:
Safety first
Empathise and validate
Reflect strengths
Explore goals together
Normalise the process
Identify triggers and supports
Track progress
Yield control appropriately
The last principle matters most to me. Every step of recovery should hand a little more control back to the person. Our recovery practitioners, in-house therapeutic input and experienced care team work with families and multidisciplinary partners to make that happen safely.
A call to commissioners, families and colleagues. If we want fewer readmissions, fewer crises and more people living well in their communities, we must invest in the space between hospital and home. That means specialist, recovery-focused supported living that treats mental health and substance use together, and measures success by independence gained.
To commissioners: work with providers who can evidence progression, not just placements. To families: recovery is possible, even when it feels far away. To my colleagues across the sector: let us keep challenging stigma and holding ourselves to the highest standards.
Recovery is a journey, not a destination. Our job is to walk it alongside people until they are ready to lead the way.

Mahmood Khan

The friendship between Türkiye and Pakistan is one of the most enduring relationships between two Muslim-majority countries. It is built not merely on diplomatic agreements or strategic interests, but on historical memories, cultural affinity, mutual respect and people-to-people bonds. Since Pakistan’s independence in 1947, the relationship has steadily developed from traditional friendship into a broad strategic partnership encompassing defence, trade, education, technology, energy and regional diplomacy.
The roots of this friendship go back even before the creation of Pakistan. Muslims of the Indian subcontinent supported the Turkish people during the Turkish War of Independence. The establishment of the modern Turkish Republic subsequently became an inspiration for many Muslims in South Asia. After Pakistan emerged as an independent state, these historical connections provided a strong foundation for bilateral relations.
Over the decades, political leaders and ordinary citizens of both countries have maintained close relations. Natural disasters have repeatedly demonstrated the practical dimension of this friendship, with both countries extending support to each other during difficult periods. This humanitarian solidarity has helped transform a diplomatic relationship into a relationship with a strong popular dimension.
The institutional framework has also become stronger. In 2009, the two countries established the High-Level Cooperation Council, which was subsequently upgraded to the High-Level Strategic Cooperation Council (HLSCC). The seventh session of the HLSCC was held in Islamabad in February 2025, where both sides agreed to deepen, diversify and institutionalise cooperation. New standing committees covering security and defence, health, and science and technology were also established.
Defence and Strategic Cooperation
Defence cooperation remains an important pillar of the relationship. Türkiye and Pakistan have developed cooperation in defence production, training and military technology. Their partnership has expanded beyond conventional defence cooperation towards joint industrial and technological projects. In July 2025, the two countries inaugurated a Joint Standing Committee on Security, Defence and Intelligence to provide a more structured mechanism for cooperation.
The relationship gained another strategic dimension in August 2026 when Türkiye, Pakistan and Saudi Arabia signed the Makkah Joint Defence Agreement. The agreement provides for enhanced defence cooperation and collective deterrence among the three countries.
Economic Partnership
The greatest opportunity for the future may lie in economic relations. Political friendship becomes more sustainable when it produces investment, employment, trade and technological development for ordinary citizens.
Pakistan and Türkiye have identified trade and investment, energy, mining, information technology, agriculture and connectivity as areas with significant potential. During the July 2026 meeting between Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif and President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, both sides reaffirmed their desire to achieve a bilateral trade target of US$5 billion.
Energy cooperation is another promising area. Turkish and Pakistani companies have explored opportunities in petroleum and natural-gas exploration, while both countries are also interested in developing cooperation in minerals and other economic sectors.
Education, Culture and People-to-People Links
Education and culture provide another important bridge. Turkish educational institutions and cultural programmes have expanded their presence in Pakistan. Türkiye’s Foreign Minister stated in 2025 that the Türkiye Maarif Foundation had more than 80 schools in Pakistan, with plans for further expansion.
Television dramas, tourism, student exchanges, academic cooperation and growing public interest in each other’s cultures have further strengthened people-to-people connections. Such links are particularly important because the future of bilateral relations depends not only on governments but also on younger generations.
The Road Ahead
The Pakistan and Türkiye relationship has considerable potential, but friendship must be translated into measurable outcomes. Both countries need to increase two-way trade, encourage private-sector investment, simplify business procedures, improve transport and connectivity, and expand cooperation in artificial intelligence, cybersecurity, renewable energy and advanced manufacturing. Pakistan can benefit from Türkiye’s industrial and technological experience, while Türkiye can find opportunities in Pakistan’s large market and strategic location.
Ultimately, the strength of Pakistan and Türkiye friendship lies in its combination of history, public goodwill and strategic interests. The challenge now is to convert that goodwill into greater economic prosperity, educational exchange, technological cooperation and regional stability.
Pakistan and Türkiye have often described their relationship as “Two Souls, One Heart.”
The real test of that sentiment in the coming years will be whether both countries can build institutions and economic partnerships capable of carrying this historic friendship successfully into the next generation.

Suhail Warraich

Preparations begin well in advance when signs of a seasonal shift appear. A ten-day Basant festival has been announced in Lahore, and the season of kites is just around the corner, currently, crucial negotiations are underway between two major factions to determine the nature of Basant’s festivities. One group is led by Paddi Ustad the uncrowned king of kite flying and a master tactician of aerial duels while the other is led by Ziddi Ustad, an outspoken advocate for revolutionary changes to Basant’s traditional rules. He seeks to abolish restrictions on kite strings, allowing anyone to use chemical-coated lines, create a raucous spectacle, play loud music, or even start fires without facing any objection. The final verdict on these negotiations’ rests with Falaki Shah, who holds ultimate authority over the freedoms and restrictions governing the festival.
Paddi Ustad is short in stature, and age has rendered him frail; having ruled the world of kite flying for years, his popularity among kite enthusiasts has waned over time, though he remains highly favoured in official circles. He is a seasoned veteran unrivalled in the art of aerial combat and cutting down opponents’ kites and while he is still hailed as a “King,” the masses have turned against him. On the other hand, the obstinate master is inexperienced yet relatively powerful and immensely popular; however, the freedoms he demands for kites during Basant have previously sparked riots and unrest. The public chafes against the cautious pragmatism of the ‘Paddi Ustad’ (the ‘Little Master’) and, despite their reservations, finds itself compelled to rally behind the obstinate master. They view restrictions on kites as contrary to the spirit of the sport, desire the release of those imprisoned following the May Basant, and hope that the Paddi Ustad will ultimately crown the obstinate master the “King of the National Basant”
Based on years of reporting, this writer anticipates that negotiations could lead to Imran Khan being allowed to visit the hospital, the transfer of Bushra Bibi to Bani Gala, and the release of his sisters’ parameters beyond which no further concessions seem likely. There is currently no prospect of Imran Khan’s release or return to active politics; rather, Bushra Imran’s transfer to Bani Gala would be part of a new strategy to drive a wedge between the factions led by Aleema Khanum and Bushra Imran. Moving Bushra Imran to Bani Gala would diminish Aleema Khanum’s influence, given that Imran Khan places greater weight on the counsel of his spiritual guide and wife than on that of his sister. Both the government and the establishment are deeply frustrated by the narratives propagated by YouTubers and aim to split the party into two distinct factions. the overseas wing and the domestic wing. The establishment and political stakeholders have reached a critical juncture where their prestige and credibility could be bolstered, or should negotiations fail completely despair and uncertainty could deepen further.
Both ‘Paddi’ and ‘Ziddi’ must exercise prudence and seek reconciliation for the sake of the country’s betterment and prosperity; it is essential to take ‘Falaki Shah’ fully into confidence. ‘Ziddi Ustad’ should formally announce the end of the sit-in, and a joint principle should be established that no such sit-in will be staged in Islamabad in the future. Any progress possible in the negotiations between ‘Paddi’ and ‘Ziddi’ depends entirely on ‘Falaki Shah’ ensuring that both parties ‘Paddi’ and ‘Ziddi’ grasp the gravity of the situation, accept what is achievable, and steer the ship out of the political whirlpool. The recent conflict between the ‘Paddis’ and ‘Ziddis’ has brought matters to a point where political and democratic freedoms have been curtailed, the space for political workers has shrunk, and restrictions have been imposed on speech and writing. Politicians can only engage in politics if democratic freedoms exist where there is liberty of expression rather than restrictions. Politics and democracy will only be possible if political workers have the breathing space to function.
There is no need to pin excessive hopes on the ‘Paddi-Ziddi’ negotiations; no revolution is imminent, nor is the government about to change. However, if the political temperature cools, Parliament resumes functioning, the government and opposition begin to interact, and measures such as allowing a medical check-up for Imran Khan in a hospital and treating female prisoners leniently are implemented, it would mark a significant success for these talks. Otherwise, the situation will remain deadlocked exactly where it is.

Atta Haq

Every meaningful journey begins with a vision. Sometimes that vision is clear only to the person carrying it. Others may question it, misunderstand it or even tell you that what you are trying to achieve is impossible. That is exactly when belief in yourself matters most.
Throughout my life, I have learned one important lesson: “Believe in your journey, even when others cannot understand your vision.”
A vision is not simply a dream. It is the ability to see possibilities before they become reality. When you start something new, whether in business, media, community service, charity, politics or events, you cannot expect everyone around you to immediately understand where you are going. If every great idea had waited for universal approval, many extraordinary achievements would never have happened.
There will always be noise. There will be criticism, disappointment and people who doubt your ability. Some will support you at the beginning and disappear when challenges arrive. Others may only recognise your vision after it becomes successful. But your responsibility is not to convince everyone. Your responsibility is to remain focused, work hard and allow your results to speak.
My own journey has taught me that success is rarely a straight road. Behind every photograph, award, successful event or public achievement are countless hours of work, difficult decisions, sacrifices and moments when giving up would have been the easier option.
But challenges can also be our greatest teachers.
Every setback teaches us something about ourselves. Every closed door encourages us to search for another entrance. Every disappointment helps us understand who genuinely believes in our journey. If we remain positive and disciplined, even difficult experiences can prepare us for greater opportunities.
I also believe success becomes truly meaningful when it creates opportunities for others. Personal achievement alone is never enough. Whatever influence, experience or platform we develop should be used to bring people together, encourage young people, support communities and give a voice to those who may otherwise remain unheard.
Leadership is not about standing above people. It is about standing with people.
We live in a world where comparison has become increasingly common, particularly through social media. People see someone else’s success but rarely see the years of struggle behind it. My message, especially to young people, is simple: do not measure your beginning against somebody else’s established journey.
Stay focused on your own path. Learn continuously. Surround yourself with positive and quality people. Respect those who support you, remain humble when success arrives and never allow temporary failure to define your future.
Most importantly, once you make a commitment, honour it. Your reputation is built not only through what you achieve but through the trust you create along the way.
There may be moments when nobody understands your vision. Keep going.
Because sometimes the difference between a dream that disappears and a vision that changes lives is simply having the courage to believe in it long enough to make it real.

Asif Saleem Mitha Columnist | Editor, Nawa-e-Jang London

In the Pakistani journalistic community of London, the name Shaukat Dar needed no introduction. He was not merely a journalist; he was a warm-hearted, lively and politically astute man who possessed the rare gift of bringing people together. His sudden passing on 15 September 2026 has left a profound void in Britain’s journalistic and Pakistani community one that will not easily be filled.
Much of Shaukat Dar’s life revolved around journalism, politics and human relationships. He served with several prominent media organisations, including FM 100, DM Urdu, DM English, Dunya TV and Samaa TV. He also served as Director of News at DM English and played an active role in the journalistic community as President of the Pakistan Press Club UK International.
Throughout his career, he interviewed some of Pakistan’s most prominent political figures, including Benazir Bhutto, Bilawal Bhutto Zardari and Nawaz Sharif. His involvement in student politics during his younger years also led to his imprisonment, an experience that became part of the remarkable journey of his life. His political friendships extended across party lines. He maintained personal relationships with people belonging to different political parties, reflecting his ability to see beyond political differences and value people for who they were.
From Murree to London. Shaukat Dar was born in 1964 in Murree, to Abdul Jabbar, His mother belonged to Lahore’s distinguished Kakkezai family, and the family also had a connection with the renowned poet Qateel Shifai.
Shaukat was one of three brothers. Tragically, all three brothers eventually passed away after suffering from heart-related illnesses.
His elder brother, Zafar Dar, was a well-known artist, calligrapher and painter in Rawalpindi. Through his artistic talent and creative work, he earned a respected place in the city’s literary and cultural circles.
Three brothers, three distinct personalities, each pursuing their own paths and talents, yet fate ultimately brought them together in the same sorrowful manner. One by one, heart disease took them away from their family, friends and loved ones.
Shaukat Dar’s “White House”
Shaukat Dar had given his office the affectionate name “White House.” It was far more than an office. Over the years, it became an informal meeting place for Pakistani journalism, politics and community life in London.
Journalists, politicians, community leaders and friends would regularly gather there. Conversations ranged from the politics of Pakistan to British community affairs, journalism and everyday life.
But perhaps Shaukat’s greatest quality was his ability to connect people.
Today, that very “White House” carries a silence that is difficult to describe.
Waheed Ahmed still sits on the same sofa, almost as if waiting for Shaukat Dar to return the very place from which his friend departed on his final journey.
The sofa remains.
The office remains.
The walls remain.
The telephone remains.
But Shaukat is no longer there.
For a friend, perhaps there is no greater sorrow than returning to a place filled with years of shared memories, only to realise that the person who made those memories possible will never walk through the door again.
Our Last Meeting
Only a day before his death, Shaukat Dar attended a dinner hosted by Senator Nasir Butt and later returned to his office, where I had a detailed and memorable conversation with him.
We spoke at length about journalism, community affairs and several plans for the future. There were projects we hoped to pursue together and ideas that we intended to develop in the months ahead.
Neither of us could have imagined that evening would become our last substantial conversation.
Life rarely announces its final moments.
The Final Hours
Even in the final hours of his life, Shaukat Dar was living in his familiar way surrounded by friends, making telephone calls, preparing to welcome a guest and thinking about the days ahead.
He was with Sajjad Shauwal and, at 5:41pm, shared a post on TikTok.
Later, he asked Waqas to go to the market to buy lentils and other provisions. When the groceries arrived, Shaukat began preparing daal and rice for Waheed.
He also spoke on the telephone with Zameer Chaudhry, who was returning to London from Birmingham. Neither could have known that this would become one of their final conversations.
That same day, Shaukat was due to go to the airport to receive Faheem Farooqi. Only a few hours earlier, he had also invited Ahmed Ali Syed over for a chat.
Then, suddenly, his health deteriorated.
Waheed contacted Ahmed Ali Syed, who began calling out to Shaukat. Rauf Butt and Jeetu soon arrived as well.
Every possible effort was made to save him. Three ambulances attended the scene, but despite the determined efforts of those present and the emergency services, Shaukat could not be saved.
A heart attack brought his life to an abrupt end.
He left behind, without warning, the friends, colleagues and countless people who had grown accustomed to his presence.
As Zameer Chaudhry returned from Birmingham and approached Shaukat’s street, he found a large gathering of people. Only a few hours earlier they had been speaking on the telephone. Now that conversation had become a final memory one that time can never erase.
Thousands Gathered for His Funeral
Thousands of people attended Shaukat Dar’s funeral prayer. People travelled from different parts of Britain to pay their final respects, while some also came from Pakistan.
Journalists, politicians, community leaders, social workers, friends, relatives and people from many different walks of life gathered to bid farewell to a man whose life had touched so many.
He is survived by his wife, three daughters and a son. His children have completed their education and have moved forward in their respective fields.
A Friend, a Colleague, a Memory
After Shaukat Dar’s departure, his “White House” may never feel quite the same again.
The office is still there.
The sofa is still there.
The desk is still there.
The chair is still there.
The telephone is still there.
But the voice that once welcomed every visitor is gone.
And perhaps the most poignant image of all is that of Waheed Ahmed sitting on that same sofa, almost as though he is still waiting for his friend to return—the place where Shaukat’s final journey began.
Even on the last day of his life, Shaukat was surrounded by friends. He was making calls, preparing to receive a guest, cooking food and discussing plans for the future.
Perhaps that was the most beautiful characteristic of his life: until his final moments, he lived fully, generously and among the people he loved.
Many people enter journalism and eventually leave it. But there are some whose legacy extends far beyond the stories they write or the broadcasts they make. They leave behind friendships, affection, human connections and memories that continue long after their voices have fallen silent.
Shaukat Dar was one of those rare people.
His voice, his distinctive manner of conversation, his “White House,” his journalistic memories and the countless friendships he cultivated will remain part of the collective memory of the Pakistani community in Britain.
Shaukat Dar has left us. But the memories remain. The friendships remain.
And the chapter he wrote in the story of journalism will not easily be forgotten.
May Almighty Allah forgive the departed soul of Shaukat Dar, elevate his and grant patience and strength to his wife, three daughters, son, family, friends and the entire journalistic community.