My Article

     Meraj Hamayun Khan Karim Khan, a higher secondary school student from Mardan in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, Pakistan, left his school three months ago without telling anyone where he was going. His parents and the school authorities desperately searched for him but no one could throw light upon his mysterious disappearance. A few days back they received a WhatsApp message from a stranger informing them that Karim Khan had been picked up by the Malaysian police and has been put in prison for three years after which he will be repatriated. In many corners of the world, young men are increasingly desperate to find employment overseas, often at great personal and financial risk. Tragic headlines of migrants drowning in treacherous seas or languishing in foreign jails are far too common. Those who manage to cross borders illegally often live in constant fear, changing hideouts and avoiding authorities, sometimes for years, until they secure a work visa. For them, life becomes a day-to-day struggle—penniless, exhausted, and wholly dependent on friends who are often just as impoverished. This harsh reality raises a critical question: Why do these men willingly choose exile, fatigue, and isolation over the loving care of their families and the respect they command in their home communities? Why do they not toil at home, where life, though hard, is anchored in the warmth of relationships and familiar surroundings? The Allure of Distant Opportunities The reasons are complex, rooted in a mix of socio-economic pressures, cultural expectations, and unfulfilled aspirations. Many of these young men come from regions where local job opportunities are scarce, education systems are inadequate, and industries fail to provide sustainable livelihoods. Faced with poverty, they see overseas work—legal or illegal—as the only viable path to financial stability. Cultural factors also play a role. In many communities, there is immense societal pressure to “make it big” abroad. Stories of neighbors or relatives who returned from foreign lands with money, gifts, and elevated social status create a compelling narrative. Even when these success stories are rare, they feed the perception that leaving home is the ultimate solution to their struggles. The Reality of Life Abroad However, the reality abroad is far from the rosy image painted by those few success stories. For every individual who makes it, countless others endure extreme hardships. Isolation: Living in exile often means years of loneliness, away from the familial bonds and community that provide emotional support. Exploitation: Many are exploited by employers who take advantage of their illegal status, paying them meager wages for grueling work. Uncertainty: The constant fear of deportation and the precariousness of their legal situation weigh heavily on their mental and emotional health. Financial Burden: The debts incurred to pay smugglers or brokers for illegal passage can take years to repay, plunging them deeper into poverty. Despite these challenges, these young men persevere, driven by a sense of responsibility to support their families back home. In their minds, enduring personal suffering is a small price to pay for the hope of lifting their loved ones out of poverty. Why Not Work at Home? The question of why these young men don’t toil at home is layered with challenges: Lack of Opportunities: Many home regions lack the infrastructure, industries, or markets to generate sustainable employment. Even skilled workers struggle to find jobs that pay enough to support a family. Social Stigma: Working low-paying jobs at home often comes with a stigma. Men may feel embarrassed to take up manual labor in their communities, where dignity is tied to their ability to provide handsomely. Economic Inequality: The wealth gap between urban and rural areas or between different social classes leaves many young men in a cycle of poverty with little upward mobility. 1.    Government Neglect: Corruption, mismanagement, and a lack of investment in local economies exacerbate the problem. A Call to Action This situation begs for reflection, not just from the individuals facing these choices, but from society as a whole. It requires us to address the systemic issues that force young men to leave their homes and loved ones for a life of uncertainty abroad. ●      Investing in Local Economies: Governments and private sectors must work together to create opportunities at home. This includes developing industries, promoting entrepreneurship, and building infrastructure in underdeveloped areas. ●      Challenging Cultural Narratives: Families and communities need to shift the narrative of success away from solely valuing overseas work. Respect must be given to those who contribute locally, no matter the scale of their work. ●      Providing Skills and Education: Equipping young men with vocational skills and education that match market demands can make them employable at home. ●      Strengthening Support Networks: Communities must support and value those who stay, fostering an environment where staying home is seen as a strength, not a failure. A Reflection It is heartbreaking to think that these young men leave the warmth of their families and the respect of their friends to toil in foreign lands, where their lives are often reduced to mere survival. Their choice is not a reflection of their lack of love for their home, but a testament to the crushing weight of their circumstances. As a society, we must ask ourselves: What kind of world forces its youth to make such choices? What can we do to ensure that staying home is not only possible but preferable? Only when these questions are answered can we hope to end the cycle of desperation and loss.

    Meraj Hamayun Khan It was a pleasant surprise to see Iftikhar Ahmad, a friend of my brother, Inayat, since their school days, to take up the task of writing a book—especially on a subject as layered and underexplored as the Yusafzai tribe. Even more touching is his reason: a tribute to Inayat. The personal connection adds warmth and sincerity to the narrative. The book offers some fresh insights into the tribe’s long and eventful history. I had always known about the Yusafzai migration following the infamous dinner hosted by Babur’s uncle, Ulas Beg, in Kabul. What I didn’t know—and what Iftikhar brings out—is that this was actually their fourth migration. Two movements occurred within Afghanistan, and two brought them across the border. Each one either led to the founding of new settlements, like Kandahar after their escape from Mongol invasions in Swat and Malakand, or contributed to the growth of existing cities like Kabul and Peshawar. The Yusafzai come across as a tribe marked by grit, endurance, and a fierce refusal to be subdued. The book starts off strong, tracing the tribe’s origin to Bin Yameen, the youngest brother of Hazrat Yusaf, who, according to the author, settled in Afghanistan—hence the name “Yusafzai.” But as the chapters progress, the narrative loses some steam. The latter portion is dominated by battle descriptions against the Mughals and the British. While Iftikhar does credit the Yusafzai for their resistance against overwhelming odds, he gives more detail to the tactics and personalities of the opposing forces than to his own people. The inclusion of large photos of enemy generals also feels at odds with his original intent of highlighting the tribe’s legacy. Still, I read the book with interest—not just for its historical content, but for the deeply personal layer it carries. My brother, our village, and many familiar names appear in its pages. Inayat is fortunate to be remembered with such affection. And Iftikhar’s effort to preserve and honor both his friend and their shared heritage is what ultimately gives this book its soul

 Meraj Hamayun Khan An invitation to an evening of classical music at the prestigious Pakistan National Council of the Arts (PNCA) is hard to turn down. Naturally, we went—half-dreaming, imagining a night of lilting sitar and tabla rhythms, maybe even a flash of young women dancing to the intoxicating pulse of the beat. The dim lights and hushed tones inside the PNCA hall created an atmosphere of quiet anticipation. We took our seats in the front row and watched the crowd trickle in—mostly grey-haired regulars with a few young faces scattered among them, all being guided gently to their places by attendants. Every city has its own cultural tone, but in Pakistan, these contrasts are especially stark. In Islamabad, black and grey dominate the palette. The city’s mood is somber, restrained—youth here embrace it as “modern,” with young women often favoring these shades for the illusion of elegance or slimness. It’s a city of bureaucrats and diplomats, where even casual conversations tend to lean into rehearsed official jargon. In such a setting, the warmth and soul of a traditional musical event can easily lose its charm. Still, we kept our hopes up. The program began, half an hour late. As the notes of tabla, flute, harmonium, santur, and sitar began to weave together, they sparked faint echoes—of sheesh mahals, of refined lyrics and poised dancers, of the legendary Tansen in the golden courts of the subcontinent’s Muslim rulers. There were also traces of Sufi poetry, whispered from khanqahs and carried in the legacy of Nizamuddin Auliya and Amir Khusro—a time when both music and mysticism were inseparable forces of cultural depth. Yet, despite the aesthetic richness of that era, there is a lingering regret: our rulers of the time invested deeply in the arts, but turned a blind eye to scientific inquiry and education. While Europe advanced through the Renaissance and laid the groundwork for modern science, we remained caught in a world of courtly pleasure and poetic flourish. That imbalance still shadows us today. Ahang Khusro, the non-profit behind the event, deserves credit for organizing it at a tense time in the capital, where anxiety from across the border casts a constant shadow. But good intentions are not enough. A bit more care in planning and execution could have transformed the evening. Poor acoustics, a disjointed program with no shared schedule, uneven pacing, and long-winded, poorly delivered speeches all added up. What could have been soul-stirring became tiresome. There was talent on stage, no doubt. But without thoughtful presentation, even the best performances struggled to connect. In the end, we left with more longing than fulfillment—an evening that had promised magic, but never quite cast its spell.

Meraj Hamayun Khan The “E & S” combination—Education and Skill—first inspired me five decades ago, when I was a young, deeply compassionate idealist. Seeing the struggles of my relatives and the hardships endured by young girls around me was painful. I resolved to do something. That conviction took shape as the De Laas Gul Welfare Program (DLG)—a registered NGO offering education and skill development across Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. Though our efforts are small in scale, the impact has been wide-reaching. Many who came through DLG are now earning respectable incomes and supporting their families. Fifty-five years later, I stand by the same formula and declare without hesitation: Education and Skill is the most effective solution to the challenges faced by families living on low or subsistence incomes. Why do I believe this so strongly? First, because I’ve seen it change lives—people who studied or trained with DLG have rewritten their futures. Second, because it changed mine. If my parents hadn’t sacrificed and saved for our education, where would I be? Education gave me an open mind and a growing vision. It brought me respect—as a teacher, mentor, politician, and leader. It gave me the confidence to speak, write, and think independently. It built my self-esteem. Today, I move with ease among people of all backgrounds, regardless of nationality, creed, or caste. Alongside formal education, my mother made sure I learned what we now call “life skills.” She taught me home management and crafts—stitching, embroidery, knitting, crochet—the essential skill set of our time. Those lessons empowered me to earn a living and helped me support other women, reducing their dependence on men. This practical training became the foundation of DLG’s mission. But belief alone is never enough. To live a meaningful life, belief must be matched with consistent, passionate action. Hard work is a core value. It’s what drives success, sustains projects, and inspires others to join you. When that happens—when people follow and help—you know you’re on the right path. The path that leads to something bigger. The path that leads to God—not the one taken by idlers or troublemakers. #EducationForAll#SkillDevelopment#NGOImpact#SocialChange#LifeSkillsMatter#LeadershipThroughService

Meraj Hamyun Khan There is a universal belief, taught by sages from time immemorial, that unity is strength but people tend to have a preference for working alone. The desire and ambition to take credit for something supersedes motivation to build a team or organization. It is also difficult to keep everyone happy. Human management is an extremely tricky vocation. Managers as well as the ones being managed, they all have their ideas and set patens thinking and working. To adapt is a big challenge especially for those who also have swollen egos. Knowing all this when someone shows an interest and then actually starts working on the creation of a non-government organization, comes as a pleasant surprise. It means that a group of people will pool their resources, material and technical and work together for a cause. With the myriads of issues that country faces there is a need for millions of NGOs. Addition of one more is a very welcome news but unfortunately, many governments especially those that are struggling to meet the growing demands of the population, see NGOs as a threat to the power. Laws are made overnight to curb the creation and functioning of NGOs. Baseless propaganda is started to discredit them. Bureaucratic hurdles are created on every step.  This is most unfortunate. A strong, well organized civil society plays a vital role in the development of a country. Every effort should be made to encourage people to form local organizations some general, others specializing in different sectors. One very successful village organization found all over KP takes responsibility for the funeral and burial in the family of a group member. This eases the burden on the bereaved family. People are interested in grouping to get her to form an NGO. There is a natural longing for socializing. NGOs also provide diverse platforms for philanthropy, an inherent need, it seems, among Pakistanis. However, a lot of hard work is needed to create and then manage an NGO, a lifetime’s involvement. People come to me for advice but they are not willing to listen and adopt the guidelines for success. They come with the perception that foreign donors are ready to open their coffers and sent millions to the work the ave decided to do. This trend, this perception is not helping the growth of the civil society.

Meraj Hamayun Khan Too many young people today are stuck in a frustrating loop: waiting endlessly for the “right” job to show up, then feeling defeated when it doesn’t. But here’s a different path—one that builds skills, confidence, and purpose: service. You don’t need to be hired by someone to start doing meaningful work. Look around. Pakistan, like many countries, faces a long list of issues—poverty, education gaps, health crises, unemployment itself. Why not get together with a few friends and do something about it? Call it a nonprofit, a community group, a grassroots movement—whatever you like. What matters is this: collective action works. History and common sense both say it—unity is strength. Yet we still hesitate. Why? Because building something with others is hard. Managing egos, aligning visions, and staying committed takes serious grit. Many prefer to go solo, chasing credit instead of impact. But real change almost never happens alone. When someone actually puts in the work to start an NGO or local organization, it’s a rare and welcome surprise. It means people are pooling resources, time, and skills to solve problems together. And with the scale of challenges we face, we need millions more doing exactly that. Unfortunately, governments under pressure often see NGOs as threats instead of allies. Red tape, bad-faith propaganda, and legal roadblocks make life difficult for anyone trying to help. But that’s not a reason to give up—it’s a reason to push harder. Local success stories prove it can be done. In many villages in KP, organizations have formed simply to handle funerals and burials, easing emotional and financial stress on families. That’s impact. That’s service. That’s civil society in action. There’s a natural human desire to belong and to give back. But creating a strong, lasting organization takes more than good intentions. It takes commitment, patience, and a willingness to learn. Too many people assume that starting an NGO means quick money from foreign donors. That fantasy sets them up for failure. If you’re serious about helping others, stop looking for shortcuts. Start with what your community needs. Start with who’s willing to work. Start now.

Meraj Hamayun Khan In the opening lines of his famous poem The Daffodils, William Wordsworth writes: I wandered lonely as a cloudThat floats on high o’er vales and hills. He evokes a “lonely cloud” to describe his solitary walk. But recently, I witnessed clouds not lonely, but gathered in graceful families, drifting over the green-draped mountain tops of Kawai, playfully beckoning the heavens to join their dance. The majesty of the mountains and the splendor of these woolly, moving clouds create a breathtaking spectacle. For a moment, you feel as if you’ve been lifted into heaven in broad daylight, gazing at a whole new world unfolding before you. This is not a world human language can fully capture. There is nothing here with a form, a shape, a voice, a touch. There are no fairies, jinn’s, giants, or goblins here. Nor is it a scene from fiction. It’s a magnetic force that draws you in — lovingly yet firmly — and carries you on an ethereal journey that is at once soothing and uplifting. You lose yourself, only to find yourself again, each time in a new form. You take on the colors of the cosmos, breathe in the fragrance of the skies, and float with sacred, unseen spirits that you somehow feel all around you. These are the dense, magical clouds of Kawai — a lush green village nestled among coniferous and fruit-laden trees in Balakot Tehsil of Mansehra District. Kawai is more than just a scenic wonder. It’s also a gateway to some of the region’s most popular tourist destinations, including Shogran, Siri Pai, Lake Saif-ul-Malook, and Lulusar Lake. Travelers often stop here to rest and refresh at the famous Kawai Aabshar, a waterfall that flows day and night. Visitors stretch their legs, breathe the fragrant, crisp mountain air, and savor local plums, apricots, walnuts, and apples in abundance. The people of Kawai are humble, relaxed, and among the most hospitable in Pakistan. The village is home to a mix of ethnic groups, adding to its rich cultural scene. Hindko is the predominant language, while others speak Pashto and Gojri — the latter mostly spoken by those living higher up in the mountains, who are said to be the original natives of the area. Pashtuns are migrants from Swat District, though little is known about the origins of the Hindko-speaking population. Despite its beauty and bounty of fruits, grains, legumes, and vegetables, life in Kawai is not easy. The rugged terrain makes farming and travel challenging. Summers bring tourists and a chance to earn a little extra, but winters are harsh, with heavy snow and the constant risk of landslides along the 27-kilometer road from Balakot to Kawai. The community pins its hopes on the Balakot Hydroelectric Project, expected to create 2,700 jobs and generate 300 MW of clean energy — a potential solution to chronic power shortages. Kawai, like the rest of Balakot, suffered greatly during the devastating earthquake on the morning of October 8, 2005. Many lost their lives in their beds, others on their way to work. Most heartbreaking of all were the children and teachers who, taken off guard, perished just as they were about to open their books and start another day of learning. On my visits to the Kaghan Memorial School a beacon of hope and a living reminder of that tragic morning I still feel a quiet undercurrent of pain, despite the fresh energy of the new buildings and the vibrant young faces around me. So I raise my hands in prayer for the safety of these loving people and their beautiful land.

Meraj Hamayun Khan That a new era has begun in KP was obvious from the oath taking ceremony of the new Cm. No subdued tones, no ‘Ehsan Tariq’s’, it was a rowdy public expression of joy and achievement typical of a youth deprived of hope and happiness. This was a crowd which had waited too long for progress. Their hopes had been crushed again and again and they were risking their lives to go legally or illegally to other countries in search of an elusive dream. All of a sudden events at home took a turn and their colleague, their leader was handed over the reins of the government. Winds changed direction from the earthy, murky and bigoted political lands of central and southern districts to the harsh mountains of the borderland of KP. From time immemorable these winds have blown over the rugged, barren hills immortalized by the poet in his verse: Na is pi ghas ugtein hein, na is mein phool khiltey hein Magar is sarzameen si aasman bhi jhuk ki miltey hein The hardly people living here have braced these winds and lived by sheer ingenuity in the waterless, rocky terrain. They live in poverty in mud houses yet they lead a colourful life observing a special code of conduct and association. They live in poverty but their hospitality is proverbial, their word given to someone in honour is a sacred oath never to be breached Bold as well as brutal like their mountains, no one dare arouse their wrath.  The new CM of KP is one of them and their rejoicing at the oath taking can be understood. It was a wild expression of the sense of deprivation that they had felt for centuries. They were only considered to be good for wars, and with no other means of income they enlisted in droves and earned a reputation of being mercenaries. No government wanted to seriously address their issues and implement a comprehensive and solid development program here. Thus this region remains underdeveloped compared to other districts of the province. There are a lot of expectations from the young, student leader who has already made history by being the first CM from the tribal belt. Like his predecessor he will be fully attentive to the wishes and guidelines of his leader, but at the same time, he will want to bring relief and hope to his people. That will be the test of his leadership – how to balance and meet the demands of two strong forces. He will need a lot of support from his party which, unfortunately, has several groupings. Moreover, the opposition, weak and highly insecure, will use all their tactics, legal or illegal, to discredit him and send him home.  My advice to him would be to be cautious and weigh every decision carefully before announcing it. Consultation with his party leaders would strengthen him and technical support from professionals can guide him to pursue a development agenda that shows quick results. Literacy, employment opportunities, law and order, women empowerment, climate change are sectors that need his attention. With patience and consistent hard work he can achieve a lot even with the weak resource base. Our prayers are with him.

            Meraj Hamayun Khan One of the big dilemmas that I face is how to address or introduce my domestic helpers, what title should I give them if and when I have to introduce them to someone. Driver, cook cleaner, sweeper? My driver, my cook/khansama, my cleaner, my sweeper? Or simply Ted to my Kaamwali, hamari Kaameded Wali? In one case, they are reduced to the position of slaves because there is ownership expressed in the title, in the other she becomes a faceless entity only meant to be at the beck and call of the masters to do their bidding in, whatever the nature of the task is. Both hit the very core of a person’s personality, her self-confidence, her self-esteem. It puts her at a disadvantage, she diminishes in size as she weakens in importance. I have often wondered how a woman feels after scrubbing the marble floors of her Ince mistress home, or when she picks up the plate of curry with two rotis placed on top as a lid to take home to her children she left sleeping when coming out for her job. Envious? Sad? Angry/ Belligerent ready to snap at anyone who addresses her? Does she pray for a better fate for herself or does she curse her mistress and her home? Arriving home to the gleeful shouts of welcome from her emaciated but loving children, does she shed the disappointment that she feels with her life? What is the reason for the wide divide in the living standards of these two groups of people the employer and the employee?