Qamar Bashir
During our youth in Quetta, we were a vibrant group of energetic souls who found solace and adventure in the embrace of the rugged mountains that surround the city. Every weekend, we set out to conquer a new peak, guided by our trainer, Ibrar Hussain Shah—a Hazara boxer of international acclaim. Before every climb, Ibrar would share invaluable lessons, instilling in us the wisdom necessary for survival and success in the unforgiving terrain.
I still remember one of his most profound teachings. He would say, “Never fight the mountain—it will kill you. Do not sprint on its slopes; it will drain your energy. Do not test your endurance against the mountain, for it will always outlast you. Respect the mountain’s mood. If it is angry, stay away. It will crush you by shifting the earth beneath your feet, unleash avalanches upon you, drown you in relentless rains, or disorient your mind to lead you to certain death.”
In this scenario, PTI is the mountain—steadfast, enduring, and rooted in public support, shaped by years of resilience and determination. In contrast, the opposing entities—political parties, the government, and the bureaucracy—are like shifting sands, transient and unstable. Their attempts to challenge the mountain may create temporary disruptions, but they lack the solidity to displace it. Like a passing sandstorm, their efforts may obscure the view for a moment, but the mountain remains unshaken, defining the landscape long after the winds die down.
At the start of my professional life, I developed a deep love for reading about some of the most phenomenal personalities in human history. Among them, none impacted mankind more profoundly than our beloved Prophet Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him), who transformed the course of human history in a way unparalleled by anyone else. His entire life offers lessons for humanity, but one episode particularly resonates with Pakistan’s current scenario: the forced exile of the Prophet (PBUH) and his followers to Sha’ib Abi Talib. The demand was simple: cease preaching the message of one Allah and stop rejecting the idols. Despite the promise of luxurious lives, the Prophet and his followers stood firm in their faith, enduring untold hardships. Ultimately, the Meccans, exhausted and unable to break their resolve, lifted the embargo.
During this period, I also fell in love with reading autobiographies of individuals who significantly shaped human history. Among them, Nelson Mandela deeply inspired me. Mandela spent 27 years in prison, enduring immense suffering, yet he stood resolutely against the apartheid regime in South Africa. His steadfastness ultimately led to the collapse of the powerful white ruling elite, who crumbled before his courage like dry bread.
In Pakistan’s history, the example of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman stands out. Mujib championed the principles and rights dear to the people of East Pakistan (now Bangladesh). Despite facing military dictatorships armed with tanks, cannons, and an entire army of over 100,000 soldiers, Mujib and the unarmed civilians of East Pakistan demonstrated unmatched determination. Their courage ultimately led to one of the most humiliating defeats in military history for Pakistan during the 1971 war. The Hamoodur Rahman Commission Report on the East Pakistan debacle candidly stated that it would have been more honorable for the Pakistan Army to embrace martyrdom while fighting bravely rather than surrendering in cowardice to the “worshippers of idols.”
History offers various examples of heroic conduct even under incarceration. One notable example is Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto, who was executed by the regime of a ruthless military dictator, General Zia-ul-Haq, following a controversial and widely criticized judicial trial. Despite facing immense pressure and the looming threat of death, Bhutto did not plead for mercy, maintaining his dignity until the end.
On the other hand, we have examples of political figures like Nawaz Sharif, Shahbaz Sharif, Ishaq Dar, and Maryam Nawaz, who, while branding themselves as Pakistan’s ruling elite, have demonstrated a different kind of resilience. These businesspeople-turned-politicians, often styled themselves as a “ruling family,” have perfected the art of avoiding prolonged incarceration by abandoning their followers, compromising their positions, or seeking refuge in foreign lands when the political tides turn against them. They have transferred vast amounts of wealth—accumulated through both fair and questionable means—to foreign accounts and constructed luxurious sanctuaries abroad. From these comfortable abodes, they wait patiently for a favorable political climate, orchestrating deals, hatching conspiracies, and ensuring their return to power. Once the stage is set, they return, repeat the cycle of rule and accumulation, and retreat again when ousted.
Today, however, Pakistan finds itself witnessing an unprecedented scenario. For the first time in its history, the entirety of the political spectrum, civil and military bureaucracy, and state apparatus has united against a single individual, Prisoner 804. Despite the deployment of the state’s brutal machinery, funded by the hard-earned tax money of Pakistan’s people, this man remains unbroken. Instead, his resolve strengthens with every passing day, while the forces aligned against him appear to weaken, their unity unraveling as they struggle to maintain control.
This time is different, as though a political government exists, it has been reduced to a mere showpiece, with real authority lying elsewhere. Much like the situation in East Pakistan in 1971, the army has directly pitted itself against Prisoner 804 and his followers across the country. For the first time since that tragic chapter in Pakistan’s history, the army faces widespread resentment, not just from one province or group, but across the entire nation. From the Baloch to the Pashtuns, Punjabis, Swatis, Kashmiris, and even the residents of Islamabad, there is a growing sentiment of alienation and anger against the military establishment.
This situation is profoundly alarming for all patriotic Pakistanis. The defenders of the nation—who were nurtured and sustained by the sacrifices of citizens, who diverted their hard-earned incomes to support a military they believed would protect them from external threats—now view their own people as adversaries. The guns that were meant to guard against external enemies are now turned inward, threatening the very fabric of the nation.
This perilous path should prompt introspection. When the constitution is disregarded, lawmakers are treated as puppets, genuine representatives of the people are jailed, and the defenders of the nation turn their might against their own citizens, the result is the transformation of a once-formidable institution into shifting sand. Like the tragedy of East Pakistan, where the people’s will was ignored, and their demands for autonomy were suppressed with force, history risks repeating itself. Such actions create the illusion of strength, but as history has shown, a mountain cannot be toppled by shifting sand. Unless the lessons of the past are heeded, the nation may once again face a devastating outcome.
