Who says heroes only live on land? Sometimes they live in the sea and they can be as big as a whale — yes, a singing whale that uses magical songs to protect the underwater world.

The Last Whale Singer is a magical German animated film that takes viewers on an exciting adventure beneath the waves.

The story follows Vincent, a teenage humpback whale and the orphaned son of Humphrey, the last Whale Singer, whose magical song once protected the oceans. After losing his parents, Vincent struggles to believe in himself. He worries he will never be as brave or as talented as his father. Many of us feel this way at some point in our lives. We compare ourselves to others and forget what makes us special. If you have ever doubted yourself, you will easily relate to Vincent’s journey.

When a giant sea monster escapes from a melting iceberg and threatens all marine life, Vincent has no choice but to confront his fears. With Walter, his loyal suckerfish nanny, he sets out on a dangerous adventure to discover his own magical song and save the ocean.

The voice cast does a wonderful job of bringing the characters to life. Vincent Tong, known for his work on Iron Man: Armoured Adventures, Kid vs Kat, My Little Pony and Voltron Force, lends Vincent a warm, believable voice. Bruce Dinsmore is equally enjoyable as Walter, Vincent’s fussy, yet caring companion.

The film is directed by Reza Memari, who got the idea for the story after watching a documentary about humpback whales. He learned that real humpback whales have “singers” in their groups, which gave him the idea.

The best part of the movie is its beautiful animation. The underwater world is bright, colourful and full of life. Giant whales, glowing plants, funny fish and amazing sea creatures make every scene exciting to watch. Because singing is at the heart of the story, the songs add excitement and emotion to every important moment.

The 91-minute film also teaches valuable lessons about finding your voice and believing in yourself. It shows that hard work, courage and self-belief are just as important as natural talent. The Last Whale Singer is a warm, entertaining family film that reminds us that true strength comes from within and that, sometimes, finding your voice can save the whole world.

Published in Dawn, Young World, July 25th, 2026

Do you know what’s common between the current captain of the England football team and their goalkeeper, who helped their side win the bronze medal at the FIFA World Cup? They both believed in themselves when they were young and wanted to represent England, even when no one else did.

In the book Ultimate Football Heroes — England’s Heroes, you get to know their story and how they managed to become star footballers after being mere fans a few years earlier.

Written by Matt and Tom Olofield, the book chronicles the rise of four English heroes — Harry Kane and Jordan Pickford, from the current side, and their former teammates, Harry Maguire and Raheem Sterling, who were instrumental in England’s rise over the last ten years. While the latter two weren’t part of the recently concluded event, Harry Kane and Jordan Pickford were, one as the skipper and the other as the goalkeeper. This book is about how these four helped England reach their second semi-final in eight years.

Written in a fast-paced, action-packed style, this book tells the story of four footballers who were first interested in the game as fans and later became superstar professional players. How did that happen and what did they do to reach this position? This book details all aspects of these players’ incredible journeys in such a way that by the time you are through with it, you are motivated to do anything you want.

It highlights the perseverance and resolve of all four players who forged a bond while playing together and explains how they helped England reach the 2018 World Cup semi-final and later led them to the Euro 2020 final, where Italy won on penalties. Had they not been part of the English side that gave their fans confidence with strong back-to-back results, the current side might not have made it to the podium last week.

This book is a must-read today because the English side has emerged as one of the best in the world; their 6-4 victory over the favourites, France, in the third-place playoff is proof of that. But behind every great victory lies a story few know; this book brings it to light.

Published in Dawn, Young World, July 25th, 2026

Published in Dawn, Young World, July 25th, 2026

Riyam was staring at her dobok hanging from the wardrobe rail. She walked around her room before letting her eyes rest on a photograph on her study desk. It showed a four-year-old girl in a pink bomber jacket, gently held by her father, who stood beside a fierce-looking brown Apollo horse.

“And though every tomorrow will be absent from you, every tomorrow will still contain you.” — Edward Lee

“Every tomorrow, every achievement, every failure and every milestone, Dad,” Riyam whispered to the photograph. “I made it to the final of the National Taekwondo Championship. I made it. The final is tomorrow and I’m scared. Not because I might lose, but because you won’t be there to celebrate with me if I win or to embrace me if I lose.”

Riyam placed the photograph back on the desk. As she looked at it one last time, a memory she had never forgotten came rushing back.

Her uncle and his family were coming to spend the summer in Pakistan from the United Kingdom. It had been two years since they had last visited. Riyam had never really spent much time with her cousins.

“Your uncle is coming, and this time, be patient with your cousins, Riyam,” Mum said. “I know you like your space, but they are family.”

“Are they coming to spend the whole summer holidays?” Riyam asked.

“They’re staying here only for a fortnight. I don’t know what else they have planned,” Mum replied.

When they arrived, Riyam warmly welcomed them. The house soon filled with laughter, love and lively conversations. The two families exchanged gifts, enjoyed feasts together and shared nostalgic stories.

One evening at the dinner table, her cousin asked Dad about the town’s riding club. He was a polo athlete and wanted to visit.

“That requires membership,” Dad told him.

“Are you a member?” Uncle asked.

“No,” Dad replied. “Riyam is and I go with her.”

Her cousins stared at her in amazement. A 13-year-old girl was too young to be a member!

“Riyam takes after you with her love for horses. No wonder she has the membership,” Uncle said to Dad.

“Absolutely,” Dad replied with a smile.

“Amazing,” said his youngest child. “I want to go. The only time I rode a horse was when I was five years old and I fell. Since then, I haven’t been able to convince Dad to let me ride again. How about it, Uncle? Could you take us there?”

“We’ll take you to the club this weekend,” Dad said.

“Oh, great!”

On the day of the visit to the stables, Dad received a work call. Dad told Riyam that she would have to go with Uncle and his family because he had to leave for work. Right from the start, Riyam knew that wasn’t her day.

Their trip to the stables was perfect — right until the laws of gravity remembered Riyam existed. Riyam slipped from the saddle and landed hard. A sharp pain shot through her ankle as her eyes filled with tears.

But Riyam refused to cry. Falling off the horse was embarrassing enough. Breaking down in front of everyone would have been even worse.

Uncle and his family hurried over, their faces filled with concern. Yet, Riyam’s physical pain was nothing compared to the burning embarrassment she felt. She did not want a bandage; she wanted the earth to split open and swallow her whole. How could she have fallen? The culprit, she thought bitterly, was Jade, her beloved horse, who stood nearby looking completely innocent.

Back home, Riyam was still upset. A quiet cloud followed her throughout the evening and right through dinner. Dad tried his best to comfort her, but nothing seemed to help. Finally, she could not hold it in any longer.

“I fell because you weren’t there with me, Dad,” she whispered, her frustration turning into tears. “I just felt so alone.”

She remembered the words her dad used to comfort her that night.

“Do you know that when a baby horse comes into the world, it follows its mother every second of its life? Wherever she goes, it follows. When she changes direction, it changes direction too. First, it learns to stand, then to walk. Gradually, it begins exploring the world, learning to socialise.

“For the first month of its life, its mother is its whole world. By the time it is three months old, it begins to realise that leaving its mother is not such a bad thing. That is how it starts making friends.

“Humans are quite similar. When babies are born, they need their parents every minute of the day. Parents do not hand their children to strangers. But when children are old enough to go to school, their parents let them go. Their parents are no longer their entire world. Children make friends, meet new people and slowly build lives of their own. They stop depending on their parents for everything.

“You will not find me by your side every minute of every day. I will not be here forever. But my love for you will always remain. You are fully capable of handling this world on your own. When you reach your biggest milestones, celebrate loudly, knowing I am cheering you on from the depths of my soul. When hard times come, trust your own strength to overcome them.

“You can solve your own problems. You can achieve your greatest milestones. Learn to trust your own strength. Learn to celebrate yourself. Learn to live without your Dad,” her father concluded gently.

Riyam smiled as the memory faded. She went to bed no longer thinking about the empty corner that would remain in the crowd the next day. She was ready to step into the ring, knowing her father would still be cheering her on.

Published in Dawn, Young World, July 25th, 2026

The Pyramid of Kunshan, an 18-storey residential building in Kunshan, near Shanghai, China, has become a popular tourist attraction thanks to its distinctive pyramid-like design.

Completed in 2013, the building features two vertical walls and two sloping sides, with apartments cascading downwards at a 45-degree angle. Designed by the Masters’ Architectural Office, the structure was inspired by traditional Chinese terraced rice fields, and many apartments include large terraces.

While its striking appearance attracts attention, the building also presents practical challenges, including difficulties with ventilation, natural lighting and fire safety due to its unusual shape.

Japan’s unusual white-yolk eggs

Kometsuya eggs, produced on a poultry farm in Hokkaido, are famous for their unusual white or very pale yellow yolks.

The distinctive colour comes from a special chicken diet low in carotenoids. The birds are mainly fed rice, fish, rice bran and other locally sourced ingredients, resulting in yolks prized for their silky texture and mildly sweet taste.

Popular in traditional Japanese dishes, Kometsuya eggs are considered a premium product. Despite their unusual appearance, producers say they offer nutritional value comparable to that of conventional eggs and are exported to several Asian markets.

66-year-old cooking oil still in use

An award-winning fried chicken restaurant in Shizuoka Prefecture says its secret ingredient is frying oil that has been continuously reused since the restaurant opened in 1960.

Wakatori’s owner, Yoshihiro Tsuchiya, said a small amount of the old oil is kept as a flavour base and mixed with fresh oil each day after being filtered and cleaned. He credits the “aged oil” with giving the restaurant’s fried chicken its distinctive taste and aroma.

The practice has sparked debate online, with critics raising health concerns. While the restaurant insists the oil is carefully maintained, food experts warn that repeatedly heated oil can produce potentially harmful substances over time, even when regularly diluted with fresh oil.

Robot beggars go viral

Humanoid robots carrying signs such as “Please pay my electricity bill” have been spotted begging on the streets of several Chinese cities, including Beijing, Chengdu and Fuzhou.

The robots, positioned like human beggars and displaying QR codes for donations, quickly went viral online.

Their appearance sparked debate, with some people expressing concern about AI’s growing role in everyday life, while others questioned whether the scenes were genuine.

Because advanced humanoid robots are expensive, some observers believe the displays may be publicity stunts or artistic installations aimed at highlighting society’s evolving relationship with AI.

Published in Dawn, Young World, July 25th, 2026

Marvel Studios has sparked excitement by teasing the first full trailer for Avengers: Doomsday through a glitchy video posted on The Fantastic Four’s official X account.

The clip suddenly cuts to black as Reed Richards warns, “Not long,” hinting at the arrival of Doctor Doom. Fans believe the trailer will premiere during Marvel’s Hall H presentation at San Diego Comic-Con.

The film, directed by the Russo brothers and releasing on December 18, 2026, will unite the Avengers, Fantastic Four, X-Men, Wakandan warriors and Thunderbolts against Doctor Doom, played by Robert Downey Jr.

Marvel has also confirmed that The Fantastic Four: First Steps directly sets up the events of the upcoming blockbuster, making it a key chapter in the Multiverse Saga.

Shocking twist in Spider-Versity #4

Marvel has introduced a shocking twist in The Amazing Spider-Man: Spider-Versity #4 by merging two of Spider-Man’s most feared enemies.

The deadly symbiote Carnage, known for bonding only with the most ruthless hosts, has chosen Norman Osborn, better known as the Green Goblin. The result is a terrifying villain that combines Carnage’s brutal powers with the Goblin’s intelligence, weapons and madness.

The comic’s story, titled Carnage on Campus, hints at chaos as Spider-Man faces one of his toughest battles yet. The surprise twist has sparked discussion among fans, with many hoping this version of Carnage could one day appear in a future Spider-Man film starring Tom Holland, although Marvel has not announced any such plans.

Grinch sequel with Jim Carrey

A live-action sequel to How the Grinch Stole Christmas is in development, with director Ron Howard and producer Brian Grazer returning. Jim Carrey is reportedly in talks to reprise his role as the Grinch.

Speaking at the UCLA Entertainment Symposium, Howard said the project moved forward after the creative team developed a story idea that excited everyone involved. Plot details remain under wraps.

Carrey famously struggled with the lengthy makeup and prosthetic process during the original film and nearly quit production. However, he completed the role and later received praise from Howard for his commitment.

Published in Dawn, Young World, July 25th, 2026

“I got it!” yelled Asad suddenly. It was a dull day. My friends and I had just returned from school. Luckily, we all lived in the same neighbourhood and could meet up whenever we wanted, but that day was different. It was gloomy, and we had nothing to do.

We were so bored that we had started counting the stones on the ground when Asad suddenly jumped up to share an idea with us. We were excited to hear what it was.

The plan was to prank a boy in our neighbourhood, Salim, by pretending to rob him.

To execute this master plan, we needed a few accessories. We all gathered as much of our pocket money as we could and bought whatever we needed. We all knew that Salim had earned a black belt in karate and he was still training.

I did some research and found out that Salim walked home from the karate centre every day, just around sunset. The timing was perfect. Some of the others did their own research and discovered that Salim was afraid of burglars and snatchers. Everything seemed perfect, or so we thought.

The day was fixed. Each one of us had to be at our designated spot a few blocks away from Salim’s house at the agreed time. What we didn’t know was that we would end up putting one of our friends’ lives at risk that night.

The day arrived. We took our positions, disguised ourselves and waited patiently. Soon, we spotted Salim turning the corner, walking straight into our so-called “trap”. From his point of view, he was simply walking home and everything seemed completely normal.

Suddenly, we jumped out and pretended we were about to rob him. Then everything happened so fast and before we even realised what was going on, each one of us was lying on the ground while Salim ran from the scene.

None of us was seriously injured except Ahmed, who was knocked unconscious by one of Salim’s powerful kicks. Ahmed’s parents were out of the country on pilgrimage, so he was staying under the care of his uncle and aunt.

Ahmed was admitted to the hospital. When our parents found out what had happened, mine, along with some of the others, decided to enrol us in a boarding school so that we could learn to be more disciplined. If we had even the slightest idea that our prank would change our future, we would never have gone through with it.

Published in Dawn, Young World, July 25th, 2026

I was scrolling through reels when I landed on a recipe for matcha macarons. One after another, I saw cookies, cakes and even matcha noodles!

Matcha has transformed not only what people drink but also what they eat. It has emerged as a global trend. But matcha was not magically created in this century. Back during the Tang Dynasty in China, tea bricks were created to make the tea trade easy. The leaves were ground and made into bricks, which later led to the idea of matcha.

You might find it confusing that Japan is famous for matcha. Well, just as other ideas travelled, this technique also made its way into Japan through a Japanese monk who studied in China.

In Japan, it transformed into a status symbol. It was available in limited quantities and was highly sought after. The social hierarchy meant that aristocrats enjoyed the rich green matcha and the lower classes got bancha, which was browner and bitter.

Long before it took over our social media feeds, matcha was a sacred tradition. Explore the fascinating journey of this vibrant green tea from ancient dynasties to modern cups and cakes

But how did matcha get its vibrant colour? Well, it is because of shade growing. The process of keeping green tea plants in the shade to develop the green colour is widely used for this purpose. Making matcha requires effort, as the green tea plant must be carefully tended to, and shade growing is practiced before harvesting. The best leaves are picked and steamed. The stems and veins are removed.

The last step is to grind the matcha. Traditionally, a stone mill is used, but it is a slow process. Small quantities are ground together to make sure that the matcha does not burn due to overheating. This ceremonial grade matcha is sold around the world at premium prices. It has a rich umami flavour that people enjoy. But in modern times, new flavour tones like puffed rice, cacao, coffee, snap pea and grapefruit have been introduced.

In Japan, matcha is not just drunk as tea; it is central to the tea ceremony, a sacred and mindful ritual of making tea. Chado or Sado is the Japanese word for it, which simply means “the way of tea.”

Before the ceremony, a room is chosen and decorated minimally. Every piece is thoughtful and simple. Then the guest and host enter the room together. Both sit on the floor before a low table. The host prepares the tea while the guest observes the surroundings and the elaborate hand movements of the host. The tea is then offered to the guest, and both drink slowly, enjoying every sip.

During the ceremony, silence plays an important role as both people speak less. Emphasis is placed on experiencing the process and appreciating every part of it. This non-verbal communication brings the host and the guest closer.

This ceremony is based on four principles developed by the Japanese tea master Sen no Riky in the sixteenth century. The first is harmony between the people and their surroundings. Another element is respect, which is shown by giving attention to details and utensils, as everyone deserves the same care.

Purity is also an important virtue. It is believed that inner and outer purity bring clarity. The result of all this is tranquillity and calm. This is an important part of Japanese culture, rooted in peace and self-reflection.

So the next time you have a cup of matcha in front of you, just think a little about the significance and the history hiding in every sip you take. Enjoy!

Published in Dawn, Young World, July 25th, 2026

After weeks of exciting football, Spain lifted the coveted trophy, proving that teamwork, discipline and fearless attacking football remain the perfect recipe for success. They defeated defending champions Argentina 1-0, but only after extra time, following a goalless 90 minutes.

The grand finale confirmed what many had believed before the tournament — that Spain were among the world’s best teams. Not only did they outclass their opponents, but they also became world champions after an extraordinary unbeaten campaign. It was only the second time in their football history that they had won the trophy, the first being in 2010, when they defeated the Netherlands in the final in South Africa.

Even more impressive was their defensive record. Spain conceded only one goal throughout the tournament, demonstrating remarkable consistency from the opening match to the final. Not only did they keep Argentina at bay, but they also extended their unbeaten run to an incredible 38 matches, cementing their status as one of the most dominant international teams in recent years.

From Spain’s historic triumph to unforgettable performances, emotional goodbyes and the emergence of football’s next generation, the FIFA World Cup 2026 had everything fans could have wished for

Much of Spain’s success centred on teenage sensation Lamine Yamal, whose dazzling performances made him one of the tournament’s biggest stars. Despite his youth, he played with remarkable confidence and maturity, creating chances and troubling defenders throughout the tournament.

England claim third place

While Spain celebrated the title and Argentina finished as runners-up, England finished third, reaching the podium for the first time since their 1966 World Cup victory. They had reached the semi-finals in 1990 and 2018, but failed to finish in the top three. In 2026, however, they defied the odds to do just that.

Their third-place playoff against former champions France was easily the most exciting match of the tournament, producing 10 goals. Harry Kane’s England finished their campaign on a high by defeating Kylian Mbappe’s France 6-4, thanks mainly to Bukayo Saka’s timely hat-trick. Even though France lost, their skipper Mbappe had the last laugh, going home with not one, but two individual award.

And the awards go to…

Every World Cup creates new heroes, and the 2026 edition was no exception. The tournament honoured the best performers with the prestigious Golden Ball and Golden Boot awards, recognising the best player and the top goalscorer, respectively.

The Golden Ball was awarded to Spain’s Rodri for his brilliant performances throughout the tournament, while Argentina’s Lionel Messi and France’s Kylian Mbappe received the Silver and Bronze Balls, respectively.

The Golden Boot, awarded to the tournament’s top goalscorer, went to Kylian Mbappe, who not only scored 10 goals but also provided four assists to help his team. Lionel Messi, with eight goals, won the Silver Boot, while England’s Jude Bellingham won the Bronze Boot after scoring seven goals and providing one assist.

For his excellent performances, Spanish goalkeeper Unai Simón was named the tournament’s best goalkeeper, winning the Golden Glove, while his teammate Pau Cubarsi won the FIFA Young Player Award. Even though the Netherlands didn’t reach the quarter-finals, their sporting spirit was recognised with the FIFA Fair Play Award.

Fans also witnessed four memorable hat-tricks during the competition. Football stars Lionel Messi, Jonathan David, Ousmane Dembele and Bukayo Saka each scored three goals in a single match, adding to an already spectacular tournament.

Farewell to football legends

For several football icons, this tournament marked the end of the road because, by the time the next World Cup takes place in 2030, they will be in their 40s, which is not considered the ideal age for international football, even if you are Lionel Messi or Cristiano Ronaldo.

Besides these two players, fans also watched Croatia’s Luka Modric, Germany’s Manuel Neuer, Brazil’s Neymar Jr and Mexico’s Guillermo Ochoa make their final appearances on football’s biggest stage.

Their careers have inspired millions, and they leave behind remarkable legacies that will be very difficult for future generations to emulate.

A new generation takes over

While several legends said goodbye, a new generation announced its arrival, led by Spanish teenagers Lamine Yamal and Pau Cubarsi, who showed maturity far beyond their years.

Young stars such as Norway’s Erling Haaland, Brazil’s Vinicius Junior, France’s Ousmane Dembele, England’s Jude Bellingham and Spain’s Mikel Oyarzabal thrilled supporters with their standout performances. Who can forget the Viking celebration that made Erling Haaland even more famous among football fans?

The tournament was not without heartbreak. Football fans around the world mourned the tragic death of South African player Jayden Adams shortly after he represented his country at the World Cup. His passing reminded everyone that life is far more important than sport, and tributes poured in from teammates, opponents and supporters worldwide.

Looking ahead

Even though the World Cup was marred by controversies over refereeing decisions, the introduction of hydration breaks and visa issues for participating teams and their fans, the ceremonies before and during the grand finale drew criticism for all the wrong reasons.

The opening ceremony before the final, in which Hollywood actor Tom Cruise delivered a supposedly motivational speech, was followed by a Super Bowl-style halftime entertainment show. Neither was well received, as both distracted the players and their fans.

In a bid to add a new dimension to the tournament’s biggest match, the organisers roped in Shakira, Madonna, Justin Bieber and Korean boy band BTS, among others. However, their half-hour performance failed to resonate with many fans, who hoped future World Cups would focus more on football and less on lengthy ceremonies and other interruptions.

As one unforgettable World Cup comes to an end, football fans can already begin counting down to the next one. The 2030 FIFA World Cup will be hosted primarily by Spain, Portugal and Morocco, with special centenary matches also held in Uruguay, Argentina and Paraguay to celebrate 100 years since the first FIFA World Cup.

If the 2026 tournament proved anything, it is that football continues to unite people across continents, create lifelong memories and introduce new heroes with each generation. Spain may be the new world champions today, but the race for football’s greatest prize has already begun once again.

Published in Dawn, Young World, July 25th, 2026

We are all fascinated when we come across some numbers, like how many people live in Canada compared to Australia, or who eats more pizza, Americans or Italians?

That kind of random curiosity is normal and we all have it, and if you really want to know the numbers in different categories and wonder where to get them — Dataguessr is the right site for you. As the name suggests, the site shows you numbers on any topic you can think of.

The website collects facts from around the world, such as numbers, stats, population, climate, money, and all that stuff.

But it’s not boring like a textbook; it’s presented like a game where you guess whether a number is ‘higher’ or ‘lower’ than another.

As you open the site, you see “Play Today’s Challenge” right in the middle; that’s basically the daily quiz everyone does. Under that there’s a box with a random question. Below that are boxes with numerous categories, such as demographics, climate and energy, environment and nature, health, rights and equality, living conditions, etc., each with subtopics. When you click any topic, say population or climate or whatever, it just drops you straight into that quiz.

Based on your selection, the site then gives you two options and asks, “Does this country (or anything) have more of this than that one?” and you just pick higher or lower. Super easy to get how it works, takes 10 seconds to understand.

There’s also a “Sign in” option if you want to save your streaks, like how many days in a row you’ve played, to save across your phone and computer.

The layout of the website is dark-themed, quite different from a lot of others out there, and the good thing is there are no ads at all. The whole site is dedicated to numbers from all kinds of fields, and it keeps you hooked with its random animations according to the category you choose, so there aren’t any boring stats, but actually a fun play of numbers.

The website is a good one to bookmark, perfect for when school’s back in session and you need real numbers for your project or assignment. https://www.dataguessr.com/

Published in Dawn, Young World, July 25th, 2026

Crispy on the outside and creamy on the inside, this single-serve chicken pot pie is comfort food at its best.

Packed with a creamy, flavourful filling and wrapped in crisp, golden pastry, it is perfect for lunch, dinner or a cosy snack. With simple ingredients and plenty of flavour, it is sure to become a family favourite.

It is just the right size to enjoy all by yourself. If you want to share this delicious treat with others, simply multiply the ingredients and bake it in a larger pie dish.

Ingredients

For the filling:

• 450g boneless chicken, cubed

• 1 medium onion, diced

• 1 medium carrot, diced

• ½ cup corn

• ½ cup peas

• ½ teaspoon salt

• ½ teaspoon black pepper

• ¼ teaspoon oregano

• ½ teaspoon garlic powder

• 1 tablespoon soy sauce

• 1 tablespoon oil

For the white sauce:

• 2 tablespoons butter

• 2 tablespoons flour

• 360ml milk

• ½ teaspoon salt

• ¼ teaspoon black pepper

• ¼ teaspoon garlic powder

• 4 puff pastry sheets

• 1 egg

Method

Pour the oil into a pan over medium heat. Cook the onion until soft, then add the carrot. Mix in the chicken, spices and soy sauce.

Cook over medium heat until the chicken is cooked through and all the liquid has evaporated. Stir in the corn and peas, cook until well combined, then remove from the heat.

For the béchamel sauce, melt the butter in a small pan. Add the flour and mix until smooth. Gradually pour in the milk, stirring continuously until the sauce thickens. Add the salt, black pepper and garlic powder.

Pour the sauce over the chicken filling and mix until everything is well coated.

In a ramekin, fill the batter until nearly full. Cover with a puff pastry sheet and crimp the edges. Brush with egg wash.

Air fry at 180 degrees centigrade for 5-6 minutes, or until the puff pastry is golden.

Enjoy!

Published in Dawn, Young World, July 25th, 2026

Published in Dawn, Young World, July 25th, 2026

Published in Dawn, Young World, July 25th, 2026

The post-Eid reality check

This is regarding the article “The post-Eid reality check” by Marvi Soomro (YW, May 30).

It was a fascinating read, especially the humorous details that almost every family goes through after Eidul Azha. The descriptions of leftover dishes appearing at every meal and overloaded freezers were both funny and relatable.

Beyond the humour, the article also carried important messages about healthy eating, cleanliness and helping our families after the busy Eid days. It was an entertaining yet meaningful read.

Rida Hussain,
Islamabad

II

I found the article “The post-Eid reality check” both amusing and informative. The writer did an excellent job of highlighting the challenges that follow the Eid celebrations, from managing leftover food to keeping neighbourhoods clean.

It is true that maintaining hygiene after the sacrifice is a shared responsibility and that children should also help with household chores.

Mohammad Talha,
Abbottabad

The endless mix

This is with reference to the website review “The endless mix” by Asif Ali (YW, June 13th). I found this website very positively engaging, just like the writer claimed.

The website encouraged creativity, experimentation and logical thinking without putting users under any time pressure.

Abrar Sarang,
Kotli

Motivational signpost

This is with reference to the Wonder Crafts section “Motivational signpost” by The Crafter (YW, June 6th). The craft was impressive as it combined creativity with positive thinking. I loved it and made it instantly.

This craft was a wonderful way to recycle simple materials and create something both decorative and meaningful.

Sarah Javed,
Bahawalnagar

Of cousins and Karachi

This concerns the story “Of cousins and Karachi” by Rayan Anwar (YW, June 6th).

The story was short with simple description of spending Eid with cousins, enjoying homemade food and exploring Karachi brought back fond memories of my own holidays with relatives.

There was also the positive message that loneliness can often be replaced by love and companionship when family members support one another.

Aleema Ghafar Qazi,
Muzaffarabad

Published in Dawn, Young World, July 25th, 2026

But wait, are we boys not friends too? Don’t we get our own day? Except we’re not exactly known for the card-making, gift-wrapping, blushing-about-it kind of friendship. Maybe it’s because, throughout our lives, we’ve been taught that feelings, matching bracelets, etc., are not “boy things.” We’re told to be tough, to not make a big deal out of things, so even celebrating a friend gets skipped.

That doesn’t mean we don’t have best friends. We do. Some since pre-nursery, some who fight with us and make up in five minutes, some who cover for us when we forget our homework. It just doesn’t show up in cute gestures like a card or a bracelet; it’s more of a punch on the shoulder or a shove on the road.

Most of the time, you’ve read the girl version of friendship, here’s ours.

Girls seem to have Friendship Day all figured out with cards, gifts and heartfelt messages. But what about boys? We celebrate friendship too, just in ways that look completely different

Asking the experts (my friend)

I asked my friend Ahad about the importance of Friendship Day and whether we should celebrate it, and he replied, “Bro, Friendship Day is not for us.”

I said, “Why not?” We have been best friends since grade three, and we have shared lunch boxes for years. I know his Wi-Fi password; he knows mine. If that’s not friendship, then I don’t know what is. He just shrugged and went back to scrolling on his phone. And I got my answer.

See… boys don’t do the whole card and gift thing, not because we don’t have friends, but because if I gave Ahad a handmade card that said “to my bestest friend,” he would probably make fun of me for the rest of my life.

This kind of stuff comes across as creepy for boys; it’s embarrassing to the point that I can’t even imagine it. I mean, why should I give a card or a friendship mug when we are literally in and out of each other’s houses every single day, when I already know his lunch order by heart and he knows mine, when we have lived through the same boring lectures of teachers, the same failed exams, the same embarrassing moments that we swore never to bring up again (but obviously still bring up, every chance we get). What’s a card going to add to that? No… we literally don’t need a card!

Our friendship works differently. It’s more like, he copies my homework, I copy his during a test, we take turns getting yelled at by the same teacher, and somehow that is enough satisfaction to know we’ve got each other’s backs.

Fighting and making up

You all know that we boys fight a lot, argue a lot and often for no reason, but the good thing is we make up in like four minutes, no joke.

One day, one of my friends and I had a full-blown argument over whose turn it was to bring the football. We didn’t talk for a whole recess, which for us was basically a decade, and then in the next period, we were talking about the homework we didn’t do, same panic, same frustration.

That’s it. That’s the apology. No one said, “I’m sorry for what I said.” We just looked at each other with stupid faces while the teacher scolded us.

For girls, this scenario is probably unbelievable and they’ll never get it; the truth is, we can’t explain it either; it just works that way.

The nicknames nobody asked for

Girls call each other by cute nicknames, like ‘pretty eyes,’ ‘Cherry,’ ‘Barbie,’ either given by their families or their friends, and they love being called that. But when it comes to us boys, we never call each other by our actual names or cute names ever!

Ahad is ‘bhai,’ Hamza is ‘chapri’ for reasons I do not remember anymore, and Zain is now being called ‘scooter’ after he fell off his bicycle once in front of everyone. This might sound mean or rude, but it’s the opposite; the meaner the nickname, the tighter the friendship — that’s just the rule for us. If we didn’t like you, you’d just be called by your name. By the way, we don’t expect anyone to call us decent names either, and if someone does, that’s suspicious.

We don’t have a rule book, but we still have rules

Being boys, it’s always about being tough; we don’t admit we miss someone, that we care, that we’re hurt or that we’ll be there whenever they need us. Everything is there; we just don’t say it.

My friends and I would do genuinely insane things to avoid admitting a friendship mattered to us. Somebody could be dealing with something serious, like arguments with parents, feeling left out, or just having a rough week and the most emotional support they get is “Let’s go out,” or “Let’s watch a movie.” Those sentences actually work like a hug.

I always thought this was just my group of friends, but soon found out that a psychologist named Niobe Way spent decades interviewing teenage boys about their friendships, and found that boys aged 12, 13 and 14 talk about their best friends with real intensity. Not “he’s a cool dude,” but “I’d be lost without him” levels of sincerity. But as they got older, that closeness started to disappear.

Somewhere along the way, admitting it felt embarrassing, like being close to a friend meant you weren’t independent, or worse, that you weren’t “normal.”

A point worth mentioning here: when my grandfather passed away, none of my friends knew what to say. They just sat beside me. We hardly spoke. Looking back, that probably meant more than any speech could have. Because their presence said it all.

So basically, it won’t be wrong to admit that we boys don’t get less emotional as we get older. It’s just that we get better at hiding our emotions.

Same language, different words

Nobody talks about boys and Friendship Day because everyone assumes we just don’t need to say things out loud. Instead of “Can you do this for me?” we say, “Arey yaar, bhai nahi hai?” roughly meaning, “Aren’t we bros?” Same thing, different words. Instead of a hug, it’s a half-hug, a pat on the back or a playful punch, our own way of saying we care without actually saying it.

Interestingly, the way we show up is also different. Girls plan surprises; we just turn up at each other’s houses because we are bored. Girls write paragraphs on Instagram; we tag each other in a meme and call it a tribute.

Let’s actually celebrate this one

While Friendship Day is celebrated around the world on July 30th, let’s admit something: boys’ friendship rarely gets talked about, and that doesn’t mean we’re not friends. Our friendships are just as real; we just express them differently. No cards, no presents and no surprises; instead, it’s a punch, a push and getting roasted in the group chat, and that says everything a card never could.

Published in Dawn, Young World, July 25th, 2026

Pakistan’s approach to protecting citizens’ personal data has long been reactive. Despite the Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act (2016) criminalising data theft, successive governments have done little to secure their own departments — the country’s largest repositories of personal information.

The federal government’s draft Data Governance Policy 2026, released for consultation in June, is the first serious attempt to close that gap.

Prepared by the Pakistan Digital Authority (PDA), set up in 2024 to oversee Pakistan’s digital public infrastructure initiative, the policy seeks to regulate how federal government bodies collect, process, retain and share data. More importantly, the draft moves beyond simply digitising government services to balancing efficiency with privacy and transparency.

While important questions remain about surveillance, artificial intelligence and implementation, the policy introduces several principles that could significantly improve both public service delivery and data protection.

Pakistan’s new draft Data Governance Policy tackles decades of bureaucratic data hoarding and insider leaks — but broader AI oversight and surveillance concerns remain

A STEP TOWARDS ACCOUNTABILITY

Perhaps its most important declaration appears at the start of the proposal: government data is not the property of the agency that holds it. Public institutions are custodians, not owners, of citizens’ information. This reflects a fundamental principle underpinning modern privacy frameworks around the world — that personal data ultimately belongs to the individual, not the organisation collecting it.

That principle has practical implications.

Anyone who has dealt with Pakistan’s bureaucracy knows the frustration of repeatedly submitting the same documents to different government offices.

Whether applying for a pension, transferring property, updating identity records or accessing welfare programmes, citizens are routinely asked to provide information the state already possesses. Women often face an additional burden, with some departments unnecessarily demanding copies of a husband’s or another male relative’s documents.

‘THE ONCE-ONLY PRINCIPLE’

The draft addresses this through the “once-only principle”, under which citizens should not be asked to provide the same information to the state more than once, unless required by law or for verification.

Instead of repeatedly submitting photocopies of computerised national identity cards (CNICs) and supporting documents, government departments would be able to securely verify the required information through authorised digital channels, with access limited to what is necessary for the specific service and subject to appropriate safeguards.

This is more than a convenience measure. It represents a shift towards data minimisation, another internationally recognised privacy principle that requires organisations to collect and retain only the information necessary for their work.

Rather than concentrating vast amounts of citizen data in a single location, the policy mandates government bodies to hold only the data they require, while retrieving additional information through controlled, auditable data-sharing mechanisms.

This reduces duplication and lowers the risks associated with mass centralisation. Large, centralised databases are attractive targets for hackers, insider theft and ransomware attacks; limiting what each institution stores reduces the potential damage when breaches occur.

Pakistan’s recent experience demonstrates why this matters.

Law enforcement agencies have repeatedly arrested individuals, including employees at the National Database & Registration Authority (Nadra) and commercial banks, for allegedly selling citizens’ personal information to criminal networks.

That information has been used in scams, in which fraudsters impersonate banks, telecom companies and government agencies, to trick victims into revealing financial details or transferring money.

The draft policy introduces an important measure of accountability by giving citizens the ability to know what information government institutions hold about them and which officials have accessed their records. Maintaining such audit trails not only discourages misuse by insiders but also provides a mechanism for investigating unauthorised access when it occurs.

Together, these provisions make this one of Pakistan’s strongest technology policy drafts — moving beyond broad ambition to practical mechanism.

AI AND SURVEILLANCE

Yet the policy should not be mistaken for a complete privacy framework. To ensure proper implementation, the government also needs to address other critical concerns, including artificial intelligence (AI), surveillance technologies and broader data protection.

The draft requires government bodies to disclose their AI policies through a publicly maintained directory and explain how AI systems are used in operational or decision-making processes that affect the public. Transparency is an important first step, but it is not enough.

Governments elsewhere have already seen AI systems produce fabricated official material, biased decisions and wrongful arrests via facial recognition — evidence that transparency alone doesn’t fulfil oversight requirements.

The draft recognises this need for oversight by requiring government AI systems to be audited, but meaningful oversight requires clear standards against which those systems can be evaluated.

Pakistan’s National AI Policy 2025 promotes AI adoption but offers limited guidance on safeguards for citizen-affecting decisions. Before AI is embedded across public institutions, the government should set clearer rules on transparency, human oversight, accountability and redress.

The same need for greater clarity applies to surveillance technologies.

The policy refers to Internet of Things (IoT) devices, a category that could include the expanding networks of CCTV and Safe City cameras deployed across major cities in Pakistan. Yet it says little about how data collected through these systems should be governed or what safeguards should apply when it is accessed or analysed.

This omission is significant. Many cities are reportedly introducing or expanding AI-powered capabilities, such as facial recognition and automated number plate recognition. Such technologies can serve legitimate public safety purposes, but they also create unprecedented opportunities for mass surveillance and privacy violations if left unchecked.

The policy should, therefore, establish clear rules governing the collection, retention, sharing and deletion of surveillance data, while requiring public disclosure of the circumstances under which these technologies may be used.

Law enforcement agencies should also be transparent about the safeguards governing their use of AI-assisted evidence. Surveillance-based evidence — facial matches, footage — should be treated as circumstantial, not conclusive.

THE REAL TEST

Implementation will be equally important.

Pakistan’s experience shows that many data breaches are results of insider abuse. Investigations have repeatedly uncovered cases in which officials allegedly sold citizens’ personal information to criminal networks. This writer has seen Facebook groups openly selling Nadra records, with sellers sharing screenshots of government screens as proof of access.

Protecting sensitive information, therefore, requires more than secure servers. Government agencies handling large volumes of personal data should implement stronger insider-threat protections, including comprehensive logging audits, stricter access controls and systems that detect or prevent unauthorised copying of sensitive information.

Technology alone cannot eliminate insider abuse, but better monitoring can make it significantly harder to misuse government databases without detection.

The institutional architecture proposed by the policy draft also deserves strengthening.

The National Data Governance Council, as proposed in the draft, would benefit from a human rights expert in an advisory role, so efficiency gains extend to equity for marginalised and undocumented communities.

The proposed Pakistan Data Authority Council should also play a more proactive role in responding to leaks — working with the Pakistan Telecommunication Authority, the National Cyber Crime Investigation Agency and other agencies to get citizens’ leaked data removed from platforms, rather than only requiring breach reports. Dedicated expertise in engaging technology companies would improve takedown requests and reduce delays that have hampered past cybercrime investigations.

Finally, the policy should be seen for what it is: a framework governing how the state handles data. It does not — and is not intended to — regulate the private sector’s collection and processing of personal information.

THE PRIVATE-SECTOR GAP

Pakistan still needs a comprehensive data protection law covering businesses, financial institutions and telecom operators that process personal data.

Such legislation should protect individuals’ privacy while providing regulatory certainty for businesses, following the balanced approaches adopted in many other jurisdictions.

Rather than relying on confrontational or impractical legislation aimed at global technology companies, the government should build structured channels of engagement with digital platforms and civil society organisations that already possess expertise in areas such as online harassment, child protection, trafficking and other technology-facilitated harms.

The draft Data Governance Policy is an important milestone — its emphasis on data minimisation, transparency and citizen control reflects principles long missing from Pakistan’s public sector.

However, without stronger AI safeguards, clearer surveillance limits and a data protection law covering the private sector, real gaps remain.

The writer is a freelance journalist and researcher. A former computer engineer, she reports on cybercrime, tech policy and internet infrastructure

Published in Dawn, EOS, July 19th, 2026

On a warm morning this past May, I returned to Gawalmandi, eager to see what remained of one of Lahore’s most celebrated neighbourhoods.

Guided by a friend who knows every twisting lane of the area, I approached the neighbourhood from Nisbat Road through Mayo Hospital. Just opposite the hospital, a narrow passage beside a row of thrift shops opens into Gawalmandi, almost hidden from the traffic outside.

Celebrated until recently as the hub of Pakistani cuisine, Gawalmandi now tells a tale of neglect and fading heritage.

Once the beating culinary heart of Lahore, Gawalmandi now stands as a shadow of its former self…

THE STREET THAT NEVER SLEPT

Located just outside the Walled City, it derives its name from the cattle herders who once inhabited the area. Although it developed into a residential neighbourhood over the decades, it became nationally renowned for its food street.

The area would come alive at night, with tables and chairs occupying most of the main passageways. Motorcyclists invariably struggled to navigate the crowded food street and, more often than not, endured expletives from unsparing Lahori aunties whose feet came under their wheels.

My earliest memory of Gawalmandi dates back to 2009, when I visited as a 10-year-old with my extended family. I saw foreign tourists, particularly women, in attire that would otherwise not be a common sight in the city.

I noticed that most of the elderly women accompanying us kept looking at these foreign women, clicking their tongues and repeating the word beysharam [shameless] over and over again.

One of them told her husband, “Mian Sahib, I wonder if there is no one to keep a check on them!” Mian Sahib, meanwhile, seemed to be taking a rather thorough look himself, and replied: “Everything seems perfectly fine to me.” Enraged, she turned to the other aunties nearby who shared her disapproval, muttering under her breath about the tourists.

A FEAST IN DECLINE

But much has changed in the following 17 years.

During my recent visit, I could scarcely believe this was the same place where diplomats, tourists, the local crème de la crème, and people from almost every section of society once gathered for their meals.

I can vouch for the variety of cuisines that were once available on this single street. Having a particular fondness for tandoori chicken and barbecue, I can recall dozens of barbecue dishes that could be ordered. The smoke would constantly rise from the angeethis [braziers] as ustaads [experts] deftly turned meat-laden skewers over the flames, eyes half-shut against the haze.

Bearers, who knew every dish on the menu by heart, would rush towards newcomers and recite the names of delicacies at a bewildering pace.

All that spectacle was now gone. An all-pervasive gloom hung over the street. Restaurant owners sat gazing expectantly at passersby, hoping someone might stop.

VOICES OF THE OLD STREET

Reaching the end of the food street, I turned into an adjoining lane. There, I saw Jameel Butt sitting on a bench outside a shuttered shop. He was immaculately dressed — a starched white kurta paired with a light-coloured dhoti . His pencil moustache and cropped hair gave him the appearance of a pehelwan [wrestler] from a bygone era.

Butt told me that he was born and raised in Gawalmandi, and loved everything about the locality. At one point, he had built a house outside Gawalmandi, near Lal Pul [literally, Red Bridge], close to Mughalpura, as it was near his place of business. He would live there for eight years but, by his own admission, never felt at home. Eventually, he shifted back to Gawalmandi. “All my best memories are associated with this place,” he said.

Like many longtime residents, Butt has a few stories about Nawaz Sharif, the three-time prime minister and a regular visitor to Gawalmandi. “He would often come to eat hareesa [mutton stew] and paaye [mutton or beef trotters] at the homes of Kashmiri Butts [a well-known local clan],” he said.

When I asked him where those houses were located, he merely pointed towards the endless street. He appeared to be a staunch supporter of Sharif’s political party, the Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz (PML-N), and spoke highly of the initiatives undertaken by the current Punjab government. I thanked him and retraced my steps towards the main stretch of the food street.

There, I met Usman Billah, another resident of Gawalmandi and the owner of a small eatery. He told me that the raunaq [liveliness] never truly returned after 2012, when the Gawalmandi food street was shifted to Fort Road. Back then, reminisced Billah, Gawalmandi “belonged to warm-hearted people.”

“But those times are long gone, when babas [old men] clad in dhotis, would sit together late into the night smoking the hookah,” he said. “The days were lively, but the nights were even livelier.”

Saifullah, who has a fast-food stall next to Billah’s eatery, listened in on our conversation as he waited for his first customers of the day. I also asked him why and when Gawalmandi began to decline.

While Butt praised successive PML-N governments, Saifullah blamed them for Gawalmandi’s decline. Saifullah offered a slightly different timeline, saying that, after the initial closure and the inauguration of the new food street on Fort Road, the original Gawalmandi was allowed to revive the food street following protests.

“Although it reopened a few years after being shut down, the hustle and bustle never returned and Covid-19 proved to be the final nail in the coffin,” Saifullah said.

WHY IT REALLY MOVED

Both Saifullah and Billah told me that the government had shifted the food street on the pretext that residents of this dense, historic neighbourhood were facing difficulties in commuting.

The main passageway where the food street was located is the only exit for those living in houses in the adjoining lanes. At night, it would become impossible for a vehicle to navigate through the narrow passageway.

I could see that the government’s concern was legitimate, but it gave little consideration to the lives and livelihoods of those who had relied on the food street. Saifullah and Billah insisted that the government had the wherewithal to provide them with an alternative instead of shutting them down. It appeared to me that the two men hoped the current government would act to restore Gawalmandi’s old spirit.

As I prepared to leave, I watched people pass the entrance of a restaurant without sparing a glance at its intricate and beautiful jharokas [ornate overhanging balconies].

Gawalmandi has survived empires, Partition and political upheaval. What it now risks losing is something less tangible: the everyday life that once made it one of Lahore’s most vibrant neighbourhoods.

The writer is a storyteller with an MPhil in English. He can be contacted at usama.malick183@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, EOS, July 19th, 2026

For two weeks, Shahrez Khan’s world shrank to the size of a prison cell.

The elite triathlete who measures life in kilometres suddenly had nowhere to go. An athlete whose days begin before dawn — swimming laps, riding endless kilometres or pounding the roads on another run — was confined to four walls, stripped of the routine that had become second nature.

“I’ve always thought of myself as a positive person,” he tells me months later. “Being in a confined environment… other than having faith or mental resilience, what else do you have? I just kept believing things would get better.”

His arrest in August 2025 thrust him into the national spotlight for the first time.

Until then, Shahrez had lived largely outside the public eye. Despite belonging to one of Pakistan’s most recognisable political families — he is the son of Imran Khan’s sister Aleema Khan — he had deliberately kept a low profile, focusing instead on his textile export business, his family and a sporting obsession that few outside endurance circles knew much about.

Shahrez Khan is among the brightest stars on Pakistan’s triathlon landscape. He qualified for the prestigious Ironman 70.3 World Championship as well as for Pakistan’s Asian Games squad. However, the real test of his endurance may be off the field…

He was arrested in connection with cases linked to the May 9, 2023 riots. His family maintains that he was targeted because of his relationship to the former prime minister, while authorities say the cases are part of ongoing legal proceedings stemming from the unrest. Shahrez spent two weeks in custody before being released. The experience, he says, tested him mentally but never altered the way he viewed life.

And, at 44, Khan laughs at the idea that his best years are behind him.

“Age is just a number,” he says. “You’d be amazed what our mind and body is capable of. The mind plays a big role. As long as you’re willing to push yourself, you’ll be amazed what your body can deliver. I think I’m in my prime right now, and I want to make the most of it.”

That optimism would soon be tested again.

BUILT FOR DISTANCE

Long before he became known for politics he had nothing to do with, Shahrez Khan was quietly becoming one of Pakistan’s finest endurance athletes.

The irony is that he never set out to become one.

At school, he discovered something about himself. He wasn’t the fastest sprinter, but he was one of the better long distance runners. Cross-country became his first love. Swimming followed, eventually earning him selection for the Punjab team. Years later, while studying at Oxford, he continued running and making it to the Said Business School Cross Country Team — not to compete, but because he found running liberating and loved pushing himself.

“I realised I enjoyed challenging myself more than competing,” he laughs. “There is a famous saying in Ironman: ‘Suffering is a privilege.’ Endurance sports are all about mental resilience. There is suffering. There is negativity that kicks in sometimes. You really have to push through it.”

That quiet competitiveness stayed with him through his twenties and into his thirties, when in 2019 a friend persuaded him to sign up for a half-marathon in Islamabad and he was hooked.

Then came an even bigger challenge.

THREE MONTHS TO BECOME AN IRONMAN

Among triathletes, the Ironman 70.3 World Championship is the pinnacle of middle-distance triathlons. Athletes qualify by earning coveted slots at Ironman 70.3 races around the world, making it an invitation-only event for the sport’s top age-group and professional competitors.

In 2022, his friends invited him to compete in an Ironman 70.3 in Luxembourg, Shahrez laughed. “I could run and I could swim,” he says. “But I’d never really ridden a bike.”

The race was just three months away. Most triathletes spend years preparing for their first event. Shahrez had 90 days. He managed to finish with a respectable time.

“I went there just to finish,” he says of his first Ironman 70.3 in Luxembourg. “It was an overwhelming experience. I felt extremely grateful to have finished it in a decent time. That started an obsession and a passion.”

It wasn’t simply about crossing the finish line. It was about discovering the satisfaction of becoming a little stronger every day. These races became a way of life.

“Something that started as a challenge became a passion,” adds Shahrez. “I wanted to be the best in Pakistan and raise my level and be as good as the elite age-group athletes in the world. I have finished twice in the top 10 in my age group, in the Ironman 70.3 races held in South Africa [November 2024] and Philippines [March 2025].”

Luxembourg led to New Zealand, Turkey, South Africa, Oman and the Philippines. Training became a daily ritual.

He wakes up at 5.30am every day so he can finish before his family is up and in time to start his work day. “Smog in Lahore, heat in Karachi or freezing winter mornings simply became part of the process,” relates Shahrez. “Because of the smog in Lahore, I can’t train outside for six months out of a year. I have to train indoors, which is harder but ultimately builds more resilience.

“There are days when you don’t want to get out of bed,” Shahrez shares. “There are days when there is smog outside or it’s too hot. That’s mental resilience you have to build over time. The progress is slow. You have to keep at it, train smarter, and be patient. It’s taken me years of training and a lifestyle to build a strong athletic base, which has helped me catch up with athletes who’ve been doing this much longer.”

THE HOLY GRAIL

The Ironman 70.3 refers to the total race distance in miles — comprising a 1.9-kilometre swim, a 90-kilometre bike ride and a 21.1-kilometre half-marathon. Only a tiny fraction of athletes earn a coveted qualifying slot through races around the world.

Shahrez earned his in the Philippines after finishing seventh in his age group, becoming only the second Pakistani ever to qualify for the Ironman 70.3 World Championship that was held in November last year.

“It was the holy grail,” he chuckles. But he never got to race in the World Championship.

Shortly before the event, he was preparing to travel to Estonia sometime in August 2025 for another Ironman 70.3 event. It was then that he discovered he had been placed on Pakistan’s exit control list, preventing him from leaving the country.

He says no explanation has ever been given. “It affected my work as well,” he says. “I contribute to Pakistan’s textile exports and bring business into the country. I’m not political. I’m a professional.”

But frustratingly, instead of lining up with the world’s best triathletes in Spain, he could only watch from home.

STILL RUNNING

For many athletes, missing the biggest race of their careers might have broken their spirit. Instead, Shahrez simply found another finish line.

Trials for Pakistan’s triathlon team opened ahead of the Asian Games, due to be held in September 2027. He entered and, unsurprisingly, came out as the top qualifier.

Representing Pakistan, he says, would mean even more than competing as an individual Ironman athlete. “I would love to wear the green blazer,” he says. Yet the same travel restrictions continue to cast doubt over whether he will be allowed to compete. If he cannot travel, he says, he will willingly give up his place so another athlete can represent Pakistan.

It is perhaps the only time during our conversation when frustration briefly creeps into his voice. “These are my prime years,” he says. “I’ve always been a positive person. I will not stop training. I will not give up. If I miss the World Championship this year, I’ll qualify next year. If I miss the Asian Games this year, then I’ll focus solely on qualifying for the full Ironman Championship in Kona, Hawaii, InshAllah.”

Endurance athletes understand something few others do: the hardest races are not always the ones measured in kilometres. Sometimes, they are measured in patience.

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

Published in Dawn, EOS, July 19th, 2026

Waiting has become one of the most common experiences of everyday life in Pakistan. Yet it is rarely discussed as a public issue. It is treated as a personal inconvenience rather than a reflection of how institutions function.

Citizens wait in National Database & Registration Authority (Nadra) offices to obtain identity documents. They wait for passports. They wait for electricity to return after power outages. They wait for water tankers in neighbourhoods where piped water no longer reaches homes regularly. They wait in traffic congestion and at overcrowded bus stops. They wait for court cases to be decided, for building approvals to be issued and for government departments to respond to applications. Millions also wait for visas, work permits and overseas employment opportunities, often investing years of savings and planning in processes whose outcomes remain uncertain.

This waiting is so deeply embedded in everyday life that it has become normalised. However, when an entire population spends a significant portion of its time waiting for services that should function efficiently, the issue is no longer personal. It becomes political.

The problem is not the delay alone. Every society experiences delays. The real issue is uncertainty. Citizens are often unable to predict how long a process will take or whether it will be completed at all. As a result, planning becomes difficult and insecurity becomes a permanent feature of daily life.

From queues at the Nadra office to the struggles of getting a water tanker or a court hearing, Pakistanis spend an extraordinary share of their lives waiting — a burden that falls hardest on those with the fewest alternatives

A visit to any Nadra office illustrates this condition. Despite improvements in digital systems, long queues remain a common experience. People frequently spend entire days renewing identity cards or correcting records.

The same applies to passport offices, where sudden backlogs can leave students, workers and travellers uncertain about their future plans. The costs of these delays are rarely calculated. Lost working hours, transport expenses and missed opportunities are absorbed by the citizens themselves.

The same uncertainty defines urban services, where waiting is not the exception but the default.

In many parts of Karachi, the formal water supply system is unable to meet demand, leaving entire neighbourhoods dependent on water tankers. Families wait for deliveries that may arrive late, arrive partially filled, or not arrive at all. The tanker economy is often discussed as a water issue, but it is also a time issue. Residents must continuously adjust their schedules around an unreliable service. Their time becomes part of the cost of obtaining water.

The same pattern can be observed in transport. Karachi’s population has expanded far beyond the capacity of its public transport system. Affordable housing is increasingly located on the urban periphery, while employment opportunities remain concentrated elsewhere. Consequently, workers spend several hours each day travelling long distances. Although projects such as Bus Rapid Transit systems have improved mobility on specific corridors, they have not yet addressed the larger mismatch between urban growth, housing and transport planning.

For many workers, commuting consumes three to four hours daily. If they are working five days a week, it results in 15-20 hours of commute per week — over a year, the equivalent of three to four months of full workdays lost to travel alone. Yet these losses are seldom included in discussions on economic development. Traffic congestion is treated simply as a transport problem, when it is also a question of social and economic efficiency.

The electricity sector provides another example. During periods of scheduled or unscheduled interruption in electricity supply, households, businesses and students reorganise their lives around power outages. Shopkeepers adjust working hours. Students postpone study schedules. Small enterprises invest in generators and alternative energy sources. Again, citizens absorb the consequences of systemic inefficiencies through their own time and resources.

Perhaps nowhere is waiting more consequential than within the justice system. Court cases involving property disputes, inheritance matters or civil litigation often continue for years and, in some cases, decades. Justice delayed is not simply justice denied; it is also a transfer of costs from institutions to citizens. Families postpone investments, businesses defer decisions and individuals remain trapped in uncertainty. The delay itself becomes a burden.

These conditions contribute to the growth of informal systems. Where formal institutions are slow, intermediaries emerge. Agents facilitate documentation processes. Informal transport operators fill mobility gaps. Water tankers replace municipal supply networks. Personal connections are used to accelerate procedures that should function routinely. Such arrangements are often described as corruption or informality, but they are also responses to excessive waiting.

The impact of waiting is not distributed equally. Wealthier groups can often reduce delays through private alternatives. They can instal solar systems, hire legal teams, purchase private transport and access services through personal networks. Low-income households have fewer options. They remain dependent on public systems and, therefore, spend a greater proportion of their lives waiting.

Waiting, in this sense, becomes a form of inequality.

The issue also influences politics. In an environment where citizens must rely on elected representatives, bureaucrats or influential individuals to resolve routine problems, access to services becomes dependent on patronage rather than rights. Water connections, infrastructure repairs, and administrative approvals often become matters of negotiation. Citizens seek favours rather than demand institutional accountability. This relationship weakens democratic governance. Efficient institutions reduce dependence on intermediaries. Inefficient institutions strengthen them.

Pakistan’s development debate often focuses on large projects, investment figures and economic growth rates. While these indicators are important, they reveal little about how people actually experience the state. A more meaningful measure may be the amount of time citizens are forced to spend obtaining basic services.

How long does it take to secure a passport? To register property? To travel to work? To receive water? To resolve a legal dispute? To obtain an electricity connection? These questions reveal much about the effectiveness of governance.

Time is a public resource. When institutions function poorly, citizens pay for those failures with their time. The burden is largely invisible, but it affects productivity, opportunity and quality of life. Waiting, therefore, is not simply an inconvenience. It is an indicator of how power, resources, and institutions are organised. A society in which citizens spend an increasing portion of their lives waiting is a society in which inefficiency has become institutionalised.

The reduction of unnecessary waiting may seem like a modest objective. Yet it is central to the creation of more equitable and effective cities. Development should not be measured only by the infrastructure that is built. It should also be measured by the time returned to citizens.

The writer is a researcher whose work centres on cultural critique and social realities.
She can be contacted at hamnasyed66@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, EOS, July 19th, 2026

In Pakistan, however, museum, archive and heritage digitisation is as much about navigating governance structures, institutional histories and professional anxieties as it is about the technology being used.

For more than two decades, the Lahore Museum has not been led by a museum professional. For the past 16 years, the Taxila Museum has lacked authority over the majority of its reserve collection. During those same periods, specialised expertise in collections management, conservation and museum documentation have steadily eroded across much of the country’s cultural sector.

The result is that projects that should primarily be about technology have become exercises in navigating institutional uncertainty. The recent digitisation of the Lahore and Taxila Museums demonstrates how the success of a digital archive depends not only on cameras and computers but on the people and institutions responsible for the collections themselves.

While the digitisation process of the Lahore and Taxila museums is helping preserve thousands of priceless artefacts, it has also revealed the bureaucratic failures, institutional neglect and governance challenges that have long threatened the nation’s cultural heritage

GOING DIGITAL

In early 2024, major work began to digitise the Lahore and Taxila museums, its scope of work becoming Pakistan’s largest museum digitisation project. The ambition was straightforward — create a comprehensive digital record of collections that span millennia of South Asian history.

Combined, these two museums hold a collection that ranges from Gandharan sculptures and Paharri miniatures to colonial-era artefacts and modern art, representing one of the richest cultural and historical archives in the region. Yet, much of this heritage has remained inaccessible, poorly documented and vulnerable to deterioration.

In 2017, the Government of Punjab took a loan from the World Bank to develop its tourism infrastructure, which led to the establishment of the Punjab Tourism for Economic Growth Project (PTEGP). PTEGP’s main task was to develop tourist sites across the province and distribute funding for desperately needed conservation and maintenance work.

Digitising the Lahore and Taxila museums became one of its core projects, for which the Citizens Archive of Pakistan (CAP) was hired.

Digitisation of the collection, particularly in the case of the Lahore Museum, also meant that it could then go on to its next step: a whole revamp of the museum’s physical infrastructure itself. The United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation (Unesco) had been in consultation with the museum regarding upgrading efforts, yet a project at such a large scale could not happen until a full inventory of the museum was made.

Time was ticking. Yet, early on, the limitations were not technical but rather political.

WHO OWNS THE COLLECTION?

One would assume that a museum holds complete and unrestricted access to the collection under its roof. But in Pakistan this is not the case.

When digitisation work began at the Taxila Museum, it came to light that, while the collection on display belonged to the provincial Punjab government, the artefacts in the reserve collection — hidden away from the public — were under the domain of the federal government and their Department of Archaeology and Museums (DOAM).

Why this split? In 2010, with the passing of the 18th Amendment and subsequent devolution of ministries to the provinces, several museums that had been established by the federal government or already existed at the time of independence were brought under provincial control.

DOAM and the Punjab Directorate General of Archaeology had simply not yet worked out how the objects in Taxila would be transferred, and personnel of the Taxila Museum employed by the Punjab government were not even allowed access to the reserve collection, unless in the presence of a representative from DOAM.

With this development, it was decided that Taxila’s reserve collection could not be digitised during the project timeline of 11 months.

The Lahore Museum also sits in an unusual administrative arrangement that complicates decision-making. The museum is managed by a board of governors and does not come under either the federal government or Punjab’s Directorate General of Archaeology.

Instead, it is an “allied department” of the much broader Tourism, Archaeology and Museums (TAM) department of the Government of Punjab, which also manages the Tourism Development Corporation of Punjab (TDCP), the Directorate General of Archaeology Punjab and Punjab’s Department of Tourist Services (DTS Punjab), which are all separate departments. For final administrative matters pertaining to the Lahore Museum then, the highest authority becomes the secretary of TAM.

Therefore, a matter of who to contact and speak with for improvements in either museum is not a very clear process.

This is true for other provinces as well, where the National Museum of Pakistan in Karachi is one such case. While the museum first went to the provincial government after the 18th Amendment, it was later brought back under federal control with a directive of the Supreme Court in 2019. Now there are murmurings to bring it back to the province, while plans to develop a new site in Islamabad have remained stalled for years.

BUILDING TRUST

Once it is established who owns the collection (or rather, who is responsible for it), the first and most important step is to build trust with the museum itself. An ambiguous chain of command, ownership and external consultants makes developing trust at all stages necessary.

A sustained lack of funding and attention towards culture and heritage in Pakistan has meant that, when funding is available, several proposals come forth. Digitisation can be a lucrative business, with funding proposals asking for expensive cameras, scanners, computers and editing software, besides the operational costs of salaries and logistics.

A visit to most museums in Pakistan will make one uncomfortable truth obvious, there are very few museum professionals hired in the country. The degradation of Pakistan’s public cultural institutions has meant that the gap in skills and expertise is now vast. Most staff members who are employed to look after museum collections do not have degrees or experience in their collections or museum management, and therefore learn on the job.

One of the most glaring examples of this is that, since 2001, no museum specialist has been hired to head the Lahore Museum. Dr Saifur Rahman Dar was amongst the last, who had brought the museum to international acclaim when he took charge of its directorship in 1974, introducing best practices in museum management and intellectual rigour with collections research.

However, since Dar and his protégé Dr Anjum Rehmani, the Lahore Museum’s director’s office has been occupied by bureaucrats with no background in anthropology, art history or archaeology. For some bureaucrats placed at the museum, it has become a ‘punishment post’ to wait out their next appointment, or an opportunity to take courses for promotion while in Lahore.

From the beginning of the Lahore Museum’s digitisation process in 2024 till the end, four different directors had to be explained the project in its entirety and trust built from scratch. The lack of leadership at the head of the Lahore Museum has greatly impacted its potential as a centre for international cultural exchange and, therefore, any digitisation and upgradation work.

GETTING TECHNICAL

Issues of security, building trust and creating a good working environment for digitisation to take place meant that, at both the Lahore and Taxila museums, it was decided that photographers and scanning technicians could not touch the objects and, instead, only the museum staff could handle the artefacts.

It was also decided that, outside of the museum’s own security cameras, an additional camera would also monitor the digitising stations. Alarmingly, the Taxila Museum did not have working security cameras of its own, and one had to be separately set up, which could send a livestream and record all interactions around the object.

While there is only one curator for the entire museum at Taxila, the Lahore Museum has multiple for the different galleries. A complete collection-wise digitisation calendar had to be made after confirming the availability of both the Lahore Museum’s curatorial and security staff — both had to be present in order for any digitisation efforts to be made.

This was true whether in the museum galleries or in the reserve collections, where objects had to be taken out of their cases. It was the same when entering the reserve collections for even a preliminary assessment of the task at hand. With curatorial and security staff already encumbered by many duties, this aspect of digitisation was particularly challenging to overcome in an 11-month timeline.

Digitising also means that a very large amount of data is being generated, which needs to be carefully managed. Each digitised object has multiple photos taken of it. Besides the front-view of the artefact, the back, top, bottom and sides all have to be photographed to create a complete record of the artefact at a particular moment in time. So, for the 35,000 objects that were digitised across both museums, hundreds of thousands of images exist.

Since the project being executed in Lahore and Taxila was managed out of the CAP office in Karachi, from the get-go a data protocol was set where images were sent every fortnight to the team in Karachi. This meant that both Lahore and Taxila had a minimum of two back-ups ‘locally’ on their own locations and had to be in close coordination with the team in Karachi to make sure that data was being sent over on time.

The Karachi office then had to make sure that the data was processed and being kept on both hard drives (that could carry multiple terabytes) and, most importantly, being uploaded on to two separate cloud networks. Keeping it in multiple locations under strict protocol was key to ensure that, in case there was a data compromise — a hard drive was damaged or lost — there existed an entire back-up that would protect all the work that was being done.

Outside of the photographs themselves, there was also the task of creating proper inventory records for the artefacts. Both museums had kept outdated and inefficiently managed records on Excel sheets, within which several discrepancies were identified through the digitisation process.

While some of the museum’s curators decided to amend the descriptions for their collections, others decided to keep the existing ones. For each folder of photos for every artefact, a digital catalogue card was also made, which meant that anyone going through the object photos could easily see its information, instead of having to open different files to check and confirm objects.

CURATING IDEAS

As part of an initiative to kickstart the process of how to get the audience to engage with the digitised collection, a selection of objects from each gallery were curated on temporary interactive screens.

For example, the Paharri school of miniature paintings collection at the Lahore Museum was displayed on a 65-inch touchscreen, where visitors could see on a map the centres where the miniatures were produced, and also enlarge the paintings themselves while reading texts about them. At the entrance of the museum, animations from the miniature paintings collection were placed on vertical screens in front of doors from the Shalimar Bagh, to create an atmosphere of the royal garden.

A favourite of the authors is the digital display for the Sadequain collection. In the early 1970s, Sadequain stayed at the Lahore Museum, using the director’s office as a place to host gatherings and sleeping in what is now the video monitoring room of the museum.

Alongside images of the Sadequain collection, which visitors can zoom into in high resolution, two videos were also produced that speak about Sadequain’s time at the museum — in the words of Dr Saifur Rehman Dar — and the process of conservation of the mural in the museum’s main hall, led by Uzma Usmani, the keeper of contemporary art at the museum.

The curation was an attempt to bridge the gap between audience and artwork, and so artists — including Shahzia Sikander and Salima Hashmi — are centred in short films talking about the development of contemporary art in Pakistan, while Naazish Ataullah speaks about Amrita Sher-Gil’s time in Lahore.

It was also an opportunity to highlight the work of some of Pakistan’s best contemporary artists that show an evolution of the lineage and history contained within the Lahore Museum. Muhammad Zeeshan has created four new paintings inspired by the Lahore Museum collection that are now part of the miniature gallery, and Ali Kazim and Amin Gulgee speak about the influence of Abdur Rehman Chughtai and Ismail Gulgee on Pakistani art. Jawad Sharif directed a film on the craft traditions of Pakistan, which can be witnessed through the ethnographic collections at the Lahore Museum.

Yet, as is the case with most externally funded projects executed by an outside party, a lack of upkeep and maintenance by the beneficiaries, ie the Lahore and Taxila museums, means that the temporary displays will soon lose their charm if not refreshed and re-curated with the digitised collection.

This was not the first digitisation project at the Lahore Museum — attempts had been made at digitising parts of the collection, though not all — and it will surely not be the last. As technology improves globally, and more funding and technical expertise is secured locally, digitisation projects will be executed with a renewed focus.

For example, 3D-scanning of archaeological objects in Pakistan is still very limited, but a cutting-edge project by the Chinese Media Arts Lab (CAMLab) at the Harvard Faculty of Arts and Sciences has been 3D-scanning Gandharan art and, in Pakistan, has scanned sites in Taxila and objects at the Peshawar and Lahore Museums.

OPEN ACCESS

Museums can often view digitisation as potentially undermining their ability to control access to their collections. Yet, international experience suggests that wider digital access can increase rather than diminish institutional relevance.

Not having digitised museum collections be open access is a tragedy that has befallen museum development in Pakistan, since the collections then only become available for those with connections in the department itself, or powerful bureaucratic and political channels.

For example, the Lahore Museum holds a rich and diverse collection reflecting the region’s history, art and heritage. However, visitation to the Lahore Museum, though high by comparative Pakistani museum standards, remains limited.

Taxila Museum, similarly, has few visitors, and the National Museum of Pakistan in Karachi barely any. The gap in museum visitation and the lack of scholarly work from the museums themselves then means that the artefacts and artworks start losing their value, since there are fewer people who can appreciate them.

Where a student in Swat or a researcher abroad would first have had to navigate travel logistics and bureaucratic complexities to access the collections, the collections being open access would mean that they could now bypass that.

Several leading museums around the world, including the Smithsonian Institution, the Cleveland Museum of Art and the Metropolitan Museum of Art have adopted open access policies for their digitised collections, with highly positive results in outreach and impact. The Lahore and Taxila museums can adopt a similar approach by:

Publishing their digitised collection online in high resolution, with descriptive metadata;

Allowing non-commercial reuse of these digital assets under a creative commons (CC) license or a similar framework;

Collaborating with educational and cultural institutions to promote the use of these resources for the public benefit.

KEEPING IT SAFE

In the summer of 2001, scandal shook the Lahore Museum. A theft of five rare manuscripts led to the removal of officiating director Dr Anjum Rehmani. A two-year-long inquiry ultimately led to the exoneration, but censure, of Rehmani by the then-chief secretary Punjab (also the head of the board of governors of the Lahore Museum), who conducted a personal hearing.

Of course, had the objects been digitised and it had been publicly known that they belonged to the Lahore Museum, selling them to a private collector, auction house or museum abroad would have been impossible. In an astonishing amount of luck, one of the manuscripts, a copy of the Holy Quran written on deer skin — said to be from the period of Hazrat Imam Hussain (AS) — was recovered when an individual brought it to the Lahore Museum itself to determine its value! The individual was arrested, along with a doctor, who police claimed were part of a network of smugglers.

Digitisation also ultimately becomes an institutional audit. In 2023, the discovery of large-scale thefts at the British Museum led it to dramatically increase its digitisation efforts. The British Museum pledged to digitise 2.4 million objects within a period of five years, with an estimated cost of £10 million (Rs3.7 billion).

After the thefts were first confirmed, the director of the British Museum, Hartwig Fischer, had to step down, and interim director Mark Jones said in a statement, “It is my belief that the single-most important response to the thefts is to increase access, because the better a collection is known — and the more it is used — the sooner any absences are noticed.”

Outside of thefts, there is also the ever-present danger of the elements. The Lahore and Taxila museums both have suffered from extensive water damage from leaking pipes and rainfall, and harsh lighting and poor ventilation continue to damage objects.

However, the most heartbreaking destruction of a museum in recent years was by a fire at the National Museum of Brazil in September 2018, caused by a short circuit of an air-conditioning unit. It was estimated that, out of 20 million artefacts, 92 percper centent of them were destroyed. Only 10 peper centrcent of the total collection had been digitised, which meant that millions of objects are gone forever.

THE FUTURE OF PAKISTAN’S MUSEUMS

In the context of the Lahore Museum, digitisation was also of critical importance given that the museum is on the brink of a major upgrade. With any infrastructural changes to museums and art galleries, collections have to be moved from the site with great care and sensitivity to avoid damage and even theft. A lack of digitising and proper record-keeping creates risks that delay much-needed engineering and conservation work taking place.

Plans to develop the Lahore Museum and bring it to a state more befitting its collection have been in the process for several years. In February 2025, Chief Minister of Punjab Maryam Nawaz instructed the provincial cabinet to approve $8 million (Rs2 billion) for Unesco to carry out major upgradation work at the Lahore Museum, a plan nearly a decade in the making, with a team of both national and international experts.

Incidentally, in August 2025, a pre-qualification notice tender of Rs3.6 billion ($13 million) was released by the Infrastructure and Development Authority of the Punjab (IDAP) for the engineering, procurement and construction of the Lahore Museum master plan. In November 2025, another pre-qualification notice tender of Rs2.5 billion ($9 million) was issued.

Besides bureaucratic negligence, the Lahore Museum in its original design by John Lockwood Kipling and Bhai Ram Singh, and engineering by Sir Ganga Ram, had ceilings that were prone to damage and leakages by rainfall, and the Unesco upgradation includes plans to abate the waterlogging, and overall improve issues of dampness, electricity and fire safety. IDAP has also shared proposals to further increase the museum space by adding a tunnel that would connect Tollinton Market (site of the original museum) with the present museum space.

It is still unknown how long the museum will remain closed for, but the upgrade provides a stellar opportunity for the museum and Unesco to develop interactive and online displays using the digitised images. It will be the only way with which the Lahore Museum will stay alive for visitors, both nationally and for those abroad.

Likewise, archaeological sites at Taxila and the Taxila Museum have received, in April 2026, a budget of nearly Rs4 billion ($14 million) from the Punjab government for major upgradation works. In February 2026, the Japan International Cooperation Agency (JICA) provided 48.8 million Japanese Yen (Rs88.8 million) for conservation work and exhibition display, from which funds will likely be directed to maintaining and digitising the reserve collection.

Digitising national collections such as at the Lahore and Taxila museums shows that, to begin any major museum project in Pakistan, it is necessary to create institutions that are capable of managing collections and maintaining records, while having a forward-thinking approach to curation.

Pakistan is embarking on major investments in its museums, archaeological sites and heritage tourism, and the long-term success of these projects will depend on rebuilding the professional expertise needed to sustain them. Without such critical interventions, Pakistan may commit to digitisation and infrastructural works, but will never strengthen the institutions responsible for safeguarding our heritage.

Saeed Husain is Managing Editor of Folio Books and served as Project Manager of the digital curation of the Lahore and Taxila museums.

He can be reached at www.saeedhusain.com

Noor Ahmed is the curator of the Karachi Biennale 2027 and served as Project Director of the digital curation of the Lahore and Taxila museums.

She can be reached at www.noorbahmed.com

Published in Dawn, EOS, July 19th, 2026

I remember watching an interview with actor Sam Neill, who died aged 78 earlier this week, saying, “Good screen acting hints at secrets. At other lives underneath the veneer.”

At the time, I wondered what secrets Neill was referring to. I just had to look at the vast body of Neill’s work, the characters he played and how he played them to answer that question.

Claiming him as Australian

The actor was born Nigel John Dermot Neill in 1947 in Northern Ireland before moving to New Zealand as a child. In the time-honoured tradition of Australia claiming New Zealand’s talent as our own, it was when he made the move across the pond that he first found fame and the launching pad for his international career.

A law school dropout, he soon found acting to be his calling while at university, acting in a number of plays before moving to New Zealand television and his first starring role in the action-thriller feature Sleeping Dogs (1977).

This film got him noticed in Australia, where he picked up a small role in the television series The Sullivans (1976-1983) in 1980 before landing his first major motion picture — My Brilliant Career (1979), opposite another emerging talent of the Australian screen, Judy Davis.

The actor who passed away July 13, never relied on theatrical flourishes or loud declamations. Instead, through intelligence, restraint and emotional precision, he became one of cinema’s most dependable leading men

He made a plethora of less widely known films such as Just Out of Reach (1979) and Attack Force Z (1982), while also appearing in television shows such as Young Ramsey.

His international breakout film was, unusually, playing the son of Satan in the quite schlocky Omen III: The Final Conflict (1981). But the film was commercially successful, and the role opened up many doors for Neill, who spent the rest of his professional career criss-crossing continents and acting in films and television series in the United States, the United Kingdom, Europe and his original home, New Zealand.

As often happens with our Australian talent, they have to be recognised overseas before we recognise them back home. So back in Australia we came to embrace Neill in landmark films such as playing Michael Chamberlain opposite Meryl Streep in Evil Angels (1988) and opposite a young Nicole Kidman in Dead Calm (1989).

At this time, he met with producer Albert ‘Cubby’ Broccoli to be considered as the replacement for Roger Moore in the James Bond series, but unfortunately lost out to Timothy Dalton. Neill may have been the greatest Bond we never had.

The actor who didn’t show he was acting

Perhaps the role he is best remembered for is as the star of the original Jurassic Park (1993) and sequels Jurassic Park III (2001) and Jurassic World Dominion (2022), in which he played renowned palaeontologist Alan Grant.

This role is a great example of how refined his acting talents were.

At the beginning of Jurassic Park, Grant is quite aloof and cold to those around him and visibly uncomfortable around the park owner’s grandchildren. As the drama unfolds, Grant gradually shifts to becoming the children’s protective mentor, risking his life for them.

Neill doesn’t do this through dramatic speeches or over-the-top visual displays. Instead, he gives us a performance of subtle shifts in the character’s behaviour. Neill’s ability at nuance made his roles so believable and authentic.

When we view his body of work, we can see that Neill’s characters always have a significant level of intellect and astuteness. He was often cast in roles of men of intelligence, quiet authority or class. Neill was the reasonable, decent man everyone looked to for stability and strength when disaster fell and all others were losing their heads.

He had this understated quality to many of his roles. Not being the overt method actor like many of his generation, he chose restraint and reason, embellishing his characters with a feeling of genuine realism. Neill was able to relate emotion through slight facial expressions or minute vocal inflections. He could be equally delighted, menacing or upset with just a glance.

The quality of the man

Neill took many risks with the roles he took on. His versatility and range meant he could be equally good in a historical drama (Sirens, 1994) as he was in a comedy (Death in Brunswick, 1990) or even horror (In the Mouth of Madness, 1994) and sci-fi (Event Horizon, 1997).

It shows the quality of the man that Neill was, as willing to appear in blockbusters as he was in small, independent films, to help and coach the next generation of filmmakers.

In ironic casting, the Sam Neill who dropped out of law school to become an actor played his final role as a lawyer in the acclaimed three seasons of the Australian courtroom series The Twelve (2022-25).

In 2023, Neill said, “I’m not afraid to die, but it would annoy me.”

For him, it may have been annoying. Those who admired him will be meeting this moment with profound sadness and gratitude for the exceptional work he leaves behind.

Neill uncovered the secrets in the lives of all of his characters, presented them to us in his own inimitable style and made even the most ordinary moments feel quietly extraordinary.

The writer is Senior Lecturer in Media Studies and Production at the University of Southern Queensland in Australia

Republished from The Conversation

Published in Dawn, ICON, July 19th, 2026

If you’re looking for one show to watch, make it House of the Dragon. HBO’s epic fantasy series has returned for its third season and the long-simmering Targaryen civil war, the Dance of the Dragons, has finally erupted into the devastating conflict fans have been waiting for.

Picking up after Rhaenyra Targaryen’s dramatic capture of King’s Landing, Season 3 shifts from succession politics to the brutal realities of holding power. Emma D’Arcy, who plays Rhaenyra, delivers one of the show’s strongest performances yet as a queen discovering that winning the Iron Throne is only the beginning.

This victory has come at a great cost to both her and her former bestie, Alicent Hightower, the queen dowager. In fact, seeing their relationship and bond survive, no matter how fractured, despite the violence and loss they have both suffered, I’m inclined to believe this series is as much about friendship as it is about dragons, the corrupting nature of power and legacy.

From a brutal war for the Iron Throne to a haunting murder investigation and the rise of an underground gambling empire in Bombay, three series to watch out for deliver high-stakes drama, unforgettable performances and compelling storytelling

Coming back to the series: three episodes into the third series and Daemon Targaryen remains as unpredictable as ever. Aemond Targaryen and the Greens regroup for revenge, while new players, including Prince Daeron Targaryen and powerful Hightower forces, enter the fray, ensuring that no victory comes without devastating consequences.

While spectacular dragon battles remain a major draw, beginning with the breathtaking Battle of the Gullet, the series has matured into something even more compelling: a character-driven political drama about ambition, grief, betrayal and the impossible burden of leadership. Every alliance feels fragile, every conversation carries the weight of war and every victory comes at a terrible cost.

With new episodes dropping every Monday, House of the Dragon has recaptured the addictive, water-cooler energy that made Game of Thrones a global phenomenon. Whether you’re in it for the dragons, the palace intrigue or the Shakespearean family drama, Season 3 is proving that the battle for Westeros has never been more gripping.

Raakh (Amazon Prime Video)

If you’re in the mood for a gripping crime thriller, Raakh on Amazon Prime Video deserves a spot at the top of your watchlist.

Set against the backdrop of 1978 Delhi, the eight-part series is inspired by the infamous Ranga-Billa case that horrified India and forever changed conversations around child safety. Rather than sensationalising the crime, Raakh unfolds as a haunting police procedural that examines grief, justice and the psychological toll of violence on everyone it touches.

At the heart of the story is Ali Fazal (Mirzapur), who delivers one of the strongest performances of his career as Sub-Inspector Jayprakash ‘JP’ Jatav, a young police officer unexpectedly thrust into the investigation after two siblings, Suman and Sahil Arora, disappear on their way home.

As the desperate search turns into a nationwide manhunt, JP must navigate bureaucratic hurdles, public outrage and his own emotional limitations while confronting two chilling killers whose motives remain as disturbing as their crimes.

The series also features moving performances from Sonali Bendre (completely unrecognisable after all that plastic surgery) and Aamir Bashir as the children’s grief-stricken parents, grounding the story in devastating human emotion rather than spectacle.

Directed by Prosit Roy, Raakh is sombre, atmospheric and well-paced, allowing its characters and moral dilemmas to linger long after each episode ends. It’s less interested in shocking viewers than in exploring how a single crime can fracture families, communities and institutions. If you appreciated the layered storytelling of Paatal Lok or Delhi Crime, Raakh is a chilling, emotionally resonant watch that stays with you long after the credits roll.

Matka King (Amazon Prime Video)

If you’re looking for a gripping binge, Matka King on Amazon Prime Video is well worth your time.

Set in the smoky underbelly of 1960s Bombay, the period crime drama charts the rise of Brij Bhatti, a humble cotton trader who transforms a simple betting system into the city’s biggest underground gambling empire. Inspired by the origins of the real-life matka phenomenon, the series is as much about class, ambition and power as it is about crime.

For context, the matka phenomenon began in 1950s Bombay as a betting game based on cotton prices from the New York Cotton Exchange. When those rates stopped being published, the game evolved into a lottery-style numbers system, where slips were drawn from an earthen pot or matka.

By the 1960s and 1970s, it had exploded into a multimillion-dollar underground gambling empire, attracting everyone from mill workers and businessmen to Bollywood personalities, while becoming deeply linked to the city’s underworld, politics and popular culture. That is the fascinating world that forms the backdrop of Matka King.

Coming to the series: at the centre of it all is Vijay Varma, who delivers another commanding performance after acclaimed turns in Darlings, Jaane Jaan and Mirzapur. As Brij, Varma effortlessly captures the transformation of an ordinary man driven by a desire for respect into a calculating kingpin navigating politicians, rival gangsters and the city’s criminal elite. It’s a layered performance that never lets you forget the humanity beneath the ambition, even as the stakes grow higher… and deadlier.

Directed by Nagraj Popatrao Manjule, the series recreates a rapidly changing Bombay, where textile mills, organised crime and political influence collide. Alongside strong performances from Sai Tamhankar, Kritika Kamra and Gulshan Grover, Matka King delivers stylish production design, compelling world-building and enough twists to keep you hooked across all eight episodes.

It’s no surprise the series quickly became one of Amazon Prime Video’s biggest global launches within its first week.

The writer is a journalist, an award-winning documentary filmmaker and a radio correspondent. She can be reached at syed.madeeha@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, ICON, July 19th, 2026

Bas Tera Saath Ho | ARY Digital, Mon-Tues 8.00pm

Anas (Farhan Saeed) and Ansa (Sana Javed) are officially married and the old Urdu adage, ‘One and one equals eleven’ is working overtime. Ansa is ready to make the tough decisions that Anas simply lacks the confidence to make.

Farhan Saeed has done his best, but Anas still comes across as weak and unlikeable, kowtowing towards his abusive relatives at everyone else’s expense. He is still shielding his evil cousin Shayan (Haris Waheed), who made the AI video that ruined Ansa’s reputation. The team has not emphasised enough the acute psychological stress and degradation Anas faced as a child to justify his low self-esteem and people-pleasing behaviour.

Sana Javed, Haris Waheed and Zoya Nasir carry the acting laurels, making this show worth watching despite a very clichéd story. Faran Tahir and Saba Hameed are powerful performers who deserved meatier, better-written roles beyond this family melodrama. Anas’ cousin and tormentor, the ironically named Shireen (Zoya Nasir), has become involved with well-known playboy Faham Qureshi (Rizwan Ali Jaffry). It seems as if Shireen’s narcissism may lead to the same disgrace her family inflicted on Ansa.

Humrahi | Geo TV, Fri-Sat 8.00pm

The only way Sayhaan (Danish Taimoor) can live is through a heart transplant from someone with a rare blood type, which he has in common with his fiancée Elif (Hiba Bukhari). His father, criminal kingpin Ghazi Yusuf (Shahzad Nawaz), kills Elif to save his son.

With some sharp editing and a faster pace, this could have been a good thriller, but the entire script has been wasted in director Baber Javed’s hands. This entirely commercial project, aimed at the massive fan followings of both lead stars, would have flown under the radar except for an appalling twist in Episode 29. Forcing a criminal rapist to marry the woman he brutally assaulted is an idea that has long been discarded and is viewed as an offence against the victim, but this trope is used by the makers of Humrahi to move the plot forward.

While it is easy to blame Danish Taimoor for toeing the line, equal blame lies on writer Zanjabeel Asim and director Baber Javed. All of social media has been abuzz with outrage, but there has been little to no response from the drama team so far.

Shandaar | Express TV, Fri-Sat 8.00pm

Director Wajahat Rauf continues to highlight Gen-Z stories with a slow-burn thriller from writers Yasir Taj and Jawwad Karim.

Rooted in city life, the story introduces us to Ashar (Ali Dayan), who means well but whose naivety and hopes of making quick money lead him into a trap. Ashar has always been impressed by his wealthy classfellow Salar (Ahsan Afzal), who dominates every room and splashes money around. Ashar is close to Aena (Areeka Haq) as well, but she is a better judge of character and unimpressed by Salar’s arrogant and violent nature.

This show is beautifully woven together, revealing each character’s personality and motivation without flowery dialogues. At the heart of this script are the ever-present dangers of living in a metropolis where the law can be bought by the rich. Both Areeka Haq and borrow a little from similar characters they have played in the past, and their performances show they have learned their craft well and will be stars to watch out for. Ahsan Afzal is now very much at home on our screens, showing his versatility in this negative role.

What To Watch Out For (Or Not)

Main Tera | ARY Digital, Coming soon

A new family drama about a manipulative sister (Ghana Ali) who refuses to allow her brother (Arez Ahmed) the space to live and love.

Published in Dawn, ICON, July 19th, 2026

Homer’s Odyssey is a quest, following King Odysseus’ 10-year journey back home to Ithaca after the Trojan War. It is a tale with distinct geographic, spatial and temporal dimensions. It is no wonder that, for centuries, people have been intrigued by the places mentioned in the Odyssey, wondering how many of them were real.

A few historians and classical scholars argue that the Odyssey is only poetry. As a work of art and pure mythology, they claim, there is no point looking for these places on a map.

The ancient Greek polymath Eratosthenes, who was the first person to measure the circumference of the Earth, disputed that the Odyssey had anything to do with geography. He said: “You will find the scene of the wanderings of Odysseus when you find the cobbler who sewed up the bag of the winds.”

I have researched the history of cartography and mental mapping for more than two decades. To me, the geographical elements of this story are what grounds it. Odysseus’ desire to find a way home lies at the very heart of the poem. And Odysseus changes as he moves across these various places and spaces.

Ancient geographers and modern researchers have attempted to trace Odysseus’ travels for more than two millennia. What do their attempts tell us?

MAPPING THE MYTH

The ancient Greek historian Polybius, who came 600 years after Homer, believed The Odyssey was a real story with some myths, rather than the reverse. He insisted that some of the fishing practices near Scylla, for example, were similar to those in the islands of Sicily, so Scylla must be located off the coast of Sicily.

Strabo was a Greek philosopher and geographer writing almost seven centuries after Homer. His 17-volume Geographica is a comprehensive atlas and encyclopaedia of Greek life during Emperor Augustus.

It also tells the story of islands of men and women in the Indian Ocean, just as Homer depicts in The Odyssey: “In the ocean, there is a small island, not very far out to sea, situated off the outlet of the Liger River; and the island is inhabited by women of the Samnitae, and they are possessed by Dionysus and make this god propitious by appeasing him.”

Legends and myths from the time talk about women who seduced men and led them into danger. They were women such as Homer’s Circe, who he describes as “a dreadful goddess with lovely hair.” She lives alone on the island of Aeaea with her docile wolves and lions, and lures Odysseus and his men to her to turn them into pigs.

Homer also writes of Calypso, who keeps Odysseus in “sexual captivity” on her island of Ogygia for seven years. Alternatively, this is where Odysseus remained voluntarily until he decided that he had had enough, depending on the translation.

In the maps and globes of the ancient world, myths and the real world overlap and intersect. The Roman mathematician and astronomer Ptolemy, who mapped the known world in 150BC, showed many of these Homeric places in his maps, such as the Lotophagitis (the land of the Lotus-eaters), Circaeum Promontorium (Aeaea, Circe’s kingdom) and Sirenusae Insulae (the island of the sirens).

Attempts to transpose these locations accurately to modern maps have been difficult. Ptolemy’s calculations of latitudes and longitudes were based on a vastly different projection and understanding of the Earth’s circumference. An approximate matching of the locations to modern maps hints at Lotophagitis being located in Africa.

In the late-16th century, Dutch mapmaker Abraham Ortelius mapped Odysseus’ journey for the first time in its entirety in his Theatrum Orbis Terrarum. It was called the ‘Map of the Wanderings of Ulysses’, Ulysses being the Latin name for Odysseus.

Ortelius represents both the mythical and fictional worlds of Odysseus as scientific facts, and claims that Ithaca is modern Corfu. Homer had placed Calypso’s island off the coast of Scheria, a mythical haven and the final stop for Odysseus before returning to Ithaca.

There was no island west of Corfu, so Ortelius created a fictional island on his map. This became the basis for future maps, and so the imaginary island kept appearing through the 19th and 20th centuries.

In 1912, Victor Bérard, a French politician and traveller, tried to retrace Odysseus’ journey by travelling the same route. He placed Calypso’s island near Gibraltar, and the land of the Lotus-Eaters as Djerba off southern Tunisia. He placed the land of the Cyclopes at Posillipo in Naples.

Bérard’s theory was that Homer’s Odyssey was influenced by Phoenicians’ travels and maps — coastal sailing directions that used the stars as guides. But many of these maps lived in people’s imaginations and stories, rather than as real objects.

IN SEARCH OF ITHACA

One of the most significant debates in unravelling the geography of The Odyssey has been to pinpoint where Ithaca really was.

For a long time, scholars have argued that it must be the island of Ithaki in the Ionian Sea. The problem is that Ithaki is mountainous, while Homer’s Ithaca is “low-lying”.

Researchers from Cambridge and Aberdeen have recently proposed that Ithaca was never described as an island in Homer’s description. Instead, they suggest he describes it as land or country that is part of a bigger island. This would suggest that Paliki, lying on the western coast of Kefalonia, is a better candidate. Geo-scientific investigations and archaeological excavations have uncovered that Paliki was a significant Bronze Age site, and hence a plausible location.

The locations from Odysseus’ journey might map on to real-world locations, or they might be purely myth. Either way, the inter-relationship of these locations tells us a story of a yearning for home and search for belonging. It also throws light on how the ancient writers saw our world as filled with mystery and dangers.

The geography of The Odyssey is a lens through which to understand the vulnerabilities and fears of men in the ancient Greek world. Maps of Odysseus’ journey might not be real, but then all maps lie. Maps are only a story we tell ourselves — a journey into the unknown, far beyond the boundaries of our imagination.

In The Odyssey, Homer was not only mapping the world, but building a world.

The writer is Visiting Professor of Social Inequities and Injustice at Loughborough University in the UK

Republished from The Conversation

Published in Dawn, ICON, July 19th, 2026

The immediately recognisable orchestral theme has been the backbone of every part since the first Enola Holmes (specifically the tracks ‘Enola Holmes (Wild Child)’ and ‘Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes’).

Regardless of whether a film features songs, the background score plays a major role in grounding the narrative and aligning the audience’s emotions with the story. The near-absence of a recognisable theme here is a let-down (it only briefly appears during the end credits). The rest of the soundtrack, composed by Aaron May and David Ridley, is just serviceable.

This serviceability isn’t limited to the soundtrack. The direction by Philip Barantini — who directed Netflix’s brilliant series Adolescence — and the screenplay by series regular Jack Thorne are also serviceable at best.

Enola Holmes 3 trades mystery and wit for a predictable romance, resulting in a sequel that feels competent but uninspired

The grandeur, along with any sense of mystery and intrigue, is lost in this next phase of Enola’s life — a narrative departure not found in Nancy Springer’s book series, The Enola Holmes Mysteries (the second film also took a sidestep from the books).

Here, Enola (Millie Bobby Brown, once again serviceable) agrees to marry the Duke of Tewkesbury (Louis Partridge) in Malta. Before the nuptials, first Enola’s brother, Sherlock (Henry Cavill), and then Tewkesbury’s mother (Hattie Morahan), are kidnapped.

Since a Holmes does not simply disappear without leaving a clue for another Holmes to decipher, Enola, Tewkesbury and the series version of the nearly entirely useless Dr Watson (Himesh Patel) start a not-so-wild search that leads them to a lot of wrongful British doings in the Crown’s colonies (Malta was a British colony until 1964).

Enola, with some help from her rebel mother (played by Helena Bonham Carter), eventually finds a pirate treasure chest and the series’ uninspired villain, antagonist Moriarty (Sharon Duncan-Brewster). For those unfamiliar with the prior movies, this is a female-led story, so the villain, Moriarty, has been gender-swapped.

Duncan-Brewster is clearly a fine actress who hams her way through the role alongside the rest of the cast. While the overacting may not be that apparent with others, one cannot disregard it in the case of Cavill who, seemingly like everyone, is told to punch up the emotions a notch.

Cavill also seems to have spent very little time on set this time round. Notice how he is almost never in the same frame as anyone else, and rarely shares dialogue with anyone but Bobby Brown.

Thorne’s screenplay and the film as a whole are standard, unimaginative fare, banking on Enola and Tewkesbury’s romance and a plot point that puts her beau in the lead to pull the story through. Like many sequels, it gets the job done — though barely.

Streaming on Netflix, Enola Holmes 3 is rated suitable for ages 13 and over (equivalent to the PG-13 rating). Parents needn’t worry, it’s as PG-13 as it gets

The writer is Icon’s primary film reviewer

Published in Dawn, ICON, July 19th, 2026

Actor Emmad Irfani has been working in showbiz for 13 years. To mark the anniversary of his acting career, he took to Instagram to post the following message: “This one is for all of you out there, each one of you who, along the way, supported me, encouraged me, made me strive to be better and keep working hard. You have been there for me in my tragedy and elation, in my defeat and victory. You are not ‘fans’, you have been a family.” Awwww, that’s so touching, Emmad I. And even dysfunctional families are families.

Tongue-Tied

Maya Ali and Ahad Raza Mir are working together in a television serial. During a break in filming the drama, Maya A made a video for social media, in which she challenged Ahad R M to a tongue-twister in Urdu. The first line of the twister was: “Tooti chonch ka tota”, which translates into ‘the parrot with a broken beak.’ Ahad R M tried to pass the test in a rather hesitant way, but seemed to give up very soon. This made the actress laugh but left us a little surprised. We always thought Ahad R M was pretty good at parroting lines.

No Dancing Fools

Every year, the makers of Dancing with the Stars reach out to John Stamos, but he refuses to be part of the popular dance show. Despite the fact that the Full House actor is a pretty good dancer, he says ‘no’ vehemently. Last week, the actor gave his reasons in an interview for repeatedly turning down the offer: “I said, don’t ever ask me again. I’m never gonna do that show. What makes that show good is people suffering and looking like fools. They’re breaking their feet, calluses. I don’t want that.” John S, but that sounds like you are against the very premise of reality shows.

Reverse Nepo?

Here’s a different kind of nepotism. You might say, nepotism is nepotism, what do we mean by a ‘different kind’? Well, this is in reference to filmmaker Wajahat Rauf’s statement about his son, Aashir Wajahat, who has earned considerable fame for his acting and singing of late. The director said he was happy when an interviewer introduced him as the father of a star. According to him, it could be “reverse nepotism.” In the past, fans would come up to him for pictures, but now they go straight to his son, something that he thanks God for. Hmmm… There was a time when people would go up to Wajahat R to take pictures? Seriously? Hard to believe.

Banned, Not Buried

One more indicator as to how quickly space for creative expression is shrinking in India… On July 3, the Diljeet Dosanjh-starrer Satluj went on air on Zee5. The film, directed by Honey Trehan, is based on human rights activist Jaswant Singh Khalra’s investigation into the brutal killings and enforced disappearances carried out by Punjab Police during an insurgency in Indian Punjab in the 1990s. Within a couple of days after its release, the Indian government took the film down from the streaming platform and is not allowing it to be screened anywhere else in the country. However, the movie is being downloaded all across the world and is being watched by millions. The bigoted Indian government needs to keep up with technology and public sentiment.

A First for the Emmys

For the first time in the history of the Emmy Awards, a woman will host the ceremony on September 14. Who is she? Answer: Mariska Hargitay, the star of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit. This was announced by NBC on July 7, the channel which will run the show. The 62-year-old has been nominated for an Emmy eight times and won once in 2006 for playing detective Olivia Benson on Law & Order: SVU. Not just that, Mariska H is a supporter of victims of sexual abuse and speaks publicly against harassers and abusers. She is also the daughter of Hollywood icon Jayne Mansfield and recently helped produce a documentary on Pakistani girl gymnasts from Karachi’s Machhar Colony. We wish her the best and hope she pulls off the hosting in style.

Published in Dawn, ICON, July 19th, 2026

“I didn’t cry when my mother died. She was sick for a long time.

I used to think that she should get better or pass away. A sick man, whether it is your father or mother, is a burden.”

— Naeem Bukhari, TV personality

“Naeem Bukhari should be ashamed of what he said about sick people being a burden. Many of us support and respect our sick parents. It’s because of people like you that old homes are filling up. He needs to go to a shrink. I am appalled by what he said about old parents.”

— Mishi Khan, actor and TV host

“If you don’t have any work to do, [if] you are a useless person who has failed in life, you can’t do anything but disrespect your colleagues, criticise them, spew venom against them. Say whatever comes to mind about them. That will get you your likes.”

— Mohammed Ahmed, actor and playwright

“Dear ’90s kids, whenever you feel stupid, just remember we completed our degrees without ChatGPT.”

— Ayeza Khan, actor

Published in Dawn, ICON, July 19th, 2026

During our conversation, Haseeb is remarkably thoughtful; he weighs his words with a precision that mirrors the deliberate nature of his creative process. He has an inherent dignity, a quiet depth that suggests a man who does not just look at people, but truly understands them.

Over the past two decades, Haseeb has systematically built a filmography defined by visual grandeur, intense narrative pacing and ensemble casts. But his real strength has always been in the depth and nuance he brings to his characters.

Early television successes included Bol Meri Machhli (2009), Nanhi (2013) and Ahista Ahista (2014). A definitive turning point then came in 2015 with Diyar-i-Dil, a sweeping family saga filmed in the rugged terrains of Skardu, which established his signature cinematic aesthetic on the small screen.

What is holding Pakistani dramas back? Why do stories sometimes fall apart? And can the industry reclaim the realism that once defined it? The critically acclaimed TV and film director reflects on storytelling, creative collaborations, global streaming politics and the future of Pakistani visual media

Haseeb capitalised on this momentum with the mega-hit romance Mann Mayal (2016), before transitioning his grand visual style to the silver screen for his directorial film debut, the military aviation drama Parwaaz Hai Junoon (PHJ, 2018).

Returning to television, he helmed the deeply philosophical and spiritual masterpiece Alif (2019), ventured into digital streaming with the cross-border web series Dhoop Ki Deewar (2021) and challenged media ethics in Jannat Se Aagay (2023).

After that came Sunn Mere Dil (2024) with Khalil-ur-Rehman Qamar, but more on that later.

FAMILY PRIDE

Haseeb has spent over two decades operating at an unrelenting, high-octane pace in showbiz. It must affect his personal life, I muse.

“Even when production extends late into the night, my family adapts and makes profound compromises,” he admits. “Their unwavering allegiance is the backbone of my career. Frankly, without the sanctuary of one’s family, you simply cannot sustain this kind of workload.”

Although Haseeb prefers not to talk too much about his personal life, he is keen to talk about his children.

For him, artistic DNA is finding its way into the next generation, as his daughter, Eesha, who is currently enrolled in university, has inherited her father’s sharp eye for visual storytelling and is building a platform for herself as a digital blogger. Meanwhile, his school-going son, Hamdan, currently has his heart set on becoming a pilot.

For a director who constructs worlds on screen, watching his children navigate their passions is a rewarding narrative in its own right.

BORN INTO CREATIVITY

Long before his current family became his anchor, Haseeb’s creative destiny was already being shaped by the environment of his childhood home in Karachi. His neighbourhood functioned as a hub of artistic royalty.

The legendary playwright Haseena Moin lived just down the street while maestro composer Nisar Bazmi lived a lane away. However, it was radio, TV and stage artist Shahida Moin who acted as a definitive catalyst, by taking him to the sets of music composer Sohail Rana’s show Sung Sung Chalain.

“I participated in a couple of episodes,” Haseeb recalls. “When I returned from the studio, the imagery of the set completely consumed my mind. I fantasised about it and immediately began designing a replica of the set at home, using old shoeboxes and handmade cut-outs.

“I feel like that was the exact moment creative instincts really began to develop in me.”

FINDING HIS CALLING

Initially a pre-medical student, Haseeb switched to Mass Communications in 1995 after realising medicine wasn’t for him. An internship introduced him to television production and changed the course of his career.

“Sometimes, formal studies don’t shape your future as much as hands-on experience does,” opines Haseeb. “I managed to land an internship at Eveready Studios in Karachi. Interestingly, many top directors dominating the industry today were fellow interns there. Diving into a few projects blindly, I learned the ropes from the ground up. The best career paths are often the ones we stumble upon by accident.”

That calling manifested remarkably fast. Haseeb stepped into the director’s chair as a 19-year-old, helming his first long play, Apnay Paraaye, in 1997. And as the media landscape evolved, so did Haseeb.

He started out with traditional networks such as PTV and NTM, then rode the wave of private channels in the mid-2000s. As his filmography shows, the rest was a rather remarkable history and professional trajectory. Which brings us back to Sunn Mere Dil (SMD) in 2024.

CREATIVE FRICTION

In SMD, Haseeb opted for his signature slow-burn pace, giving the heavy dialogues room to breathe, while capturing the deep, psychological weight of the characters’ emotional arcs. To bring this intense vision to life, he guided an ensemble cast led by Wahaj Ali and Maya Ali.

However, helming a project penned by Khalil-ur-Rehman Qamar brought a unique set of creative challenges, particularly when navigating complex character philosophies and the creative friction between the writer and director.

“The real issue was sensitivity and gender representation,” Haseeb states. “You cannot show either gender as entirely wrong. Both have flaws, both are grey. In my opinion, it is wrong to portray a woman in a purely negative light. While that approach might have worked in some of Khalil-ur Rehman Qamar’s previous projects, it didn’t work here.”

He adds, “The content, the underlying philosophy and even the beautiful dialogues were dismissed. Instead, audiences spoke out, saying the narrative felt wrong and unrealistic because it was so deeply biased and relentlessly negative. They wanted authenticity, not forced negativity.

“For example, if a girl is trying to save her brother’s life, she would still not compromise her self-respect just like that. However, in the script, her character repeatedly states that she is ready to do anything.”

Haseeb believes that drama requires fluid collaboration and scriptwriting is an inherently iterative process that improves through teamwork and revision. In his experience, every writer has flaws in the initial draft. The typical process worldwide involves a first draft, a second draft and so on and then a final draft, with the material consistently improving through revisions.

“Khalil sahib considers his scripts to be absolutely sacred and untouchable,” he asserts. “Though he is very friendly socially and a legendary writer — I am a huge fan of his work — that approach does not work today.

“When a script comes to me and there is a situational development or a thematic direction I disagree with, I should have the creative liberty to modify it for the betterment of the project. Sadly, Khalil sahib does not allow collaboration. He needs to realise that he must rethink his characters’ development and themes to align with technical and other requirements.”

He continues: “When a writer is unyielding, it leaves the director in a challenging position regarding creative execution. Writers must evolve alongside their life experiences and changing societal dynamics. The world has shifted, and our industry lags behind when we refuse to adapt. A script should not be treated as an untouchable sacred entity because the medium itself continues to evolve.”

Haseeb’s emphasis on collaboration is matched by a reputation for meticulous preparation on sets. Colleagues describe him as a director who arrives with a clear visual plan and expects the same level of commitment from everyone around him.

Punctuality is non-negotiable, and Haseeb remains closely involved throughout the shoot, working with actors on the emotional nuances of each scene while ensuring every frame aligns with his vision.

His exacting standards are demanding, but they reflect the expectations he places on himself as much as on his cast and crew.

THE LOST ART OF BREVITY

Recalling the era when PTV held the monopoly, Haseeb reflects on his early career.

“In those days, there was continuous communication between actors, directors and writers,” Haseeb recalls of earlier days. “We used to sit together, laughing and building the story. Back then, a standard serial was 13 episodes. Because the runtime was tight, every single episode was deeply connected to our collective energy.”

This focus on brevity is precisely what improved the quality of dramas, he feels. Today’s landscape, dominated by extended runs and commercial padding, presents a very different reality.

“I strongly believe we need to return to the 13-episode pattern. That is where you see the true quality of television,” he asserts. “Today, if a story is stretched to 50 episodes, it gets ruined.

“I understand that channels prefer longer dramas for revenue. But, from a storytelling perspective, 13 to 15 episodes should be the absolute maximum. When a project drags, the narrative stretches so thin that the bridge between the story and its execution completely collapses.”

OF CINEMA AND TV

Despite a prolific career that includes delivering the box office hit PHJ, Haseeb’s trysts with cinema remain selective. For many in the industry, his hesitation to make a permanent leap into films is a point of curiosity — but for him, it is a calculated balance of financial pragmatism and creative control.

“Back in 2018-19, directing a film could take a year-and-a-half of your life,” Haseeb explains. “From a practical standpoint, it was better to do a high-quality TV serial in six months. It allowed you to sustain your household and keep your tools sharp. Film requires massive investment and, more importantly, a level of team readiness that our industry often lacks.”

This intersection of cinematic scale and narrative pragmatism is best illustrated by his forthcoming project: a biopic of Captain Asfandyar Bukhari Shaheed, the brave young soldier who embraced martyrdom at the age of 27 during a terrorist attack on Pakistan Air Force’s Camp Badaber in Peshawar in 2015.

Originally conceived and shot with heavy action sequences and the scale of an ISPR-backed movie, the project underwent a strategic format shift during post-production. Instead of a traditional theatrical release, Haseeb made a viewer-centric decision to pivot the project into a three-episode special for Geo TV.

“The pacing is tighter as a three-episode series, and it’s a better viewing experience,” he says.

The commitment to raw authenticity also heavily dictated the project’s casting choices. When structuring a project of this magnitude, the natural industry inclination is to pursue bankable names. Haseeb admits he briefly considered megastar Fawad Khan for the lead role before choosing Ali Ammar, believing the relatively new actor better matched the youthfulness and authenticity the role demanded.

“I realised that believability was more important than stardom,” he reasons. “When the audience sees Ali Ammar in uniform, they see a soldier, not an actor. That creates a much deeper connection than seeing a famous hero who has already appeared in multiple dramas.

“Ali is a great emerging talent who surprised me with his drastic screen transformation, shifting his naturally gentle persona into the gritty, battle-hardened demeanour required of a military commander.”

The production was a logistical sprint, packing 120 minutes of intense, movie-grade content into a gruelling 25-day shooting schedule.

WHAT’S NEXT?

While Haseeb keeps the specific titles of his forthcoming projects under wraps for the most part, until his production partners officially announce them, these projects promise a massive expansion of narrative scope and geographical reach.

For one of his next projects, he is collaborating with celebrated playwright Umera Ahmad on a serial titled Rutba. The cast includes Mehwish Hayat, Hiba Bukhari and Zahid Ahmed.

Rumours have also been swirling about a potential sequel to Alif, and I press him for details.

“To be honest, I can’t reveal too much right now because I am not directly involved in the writing or production stages,” Haseeb clarifies. However, he does add: “What I can tell you is that the crew is actively being assembled for next year.”

The burning question, of course, is who will return to the screen. For fans hoping for a complete reunion of the original lead pair, Haseeb delivers a reality check, tempered with a glimmer of hope.

“The original line-up won’t remain entirely the same. It is highly unlikely that both Sajal Aly and Hamza Ali Abbasi will return. However,” he adds with a cryptic smile, “we might still see Sajal involved in some capacity.”

POLITICS OVER PLATFORMS

Our conversation turns to global streaming platforms — a space where Pakistani talent has faced persistent, systemic barriers. According to Haseeb, the roadblock is entirely political.

“It boils down to geopolitics,” Haseeb says. “When platforms such as Zee5 first entered the market, there was initial panic among local producers, because foreign platforms were bypassing traditional channels and hiring our top directors directly. But the real blow came when the political situation worsened between Pakistan and India.”

He points out a complex industry reality: while global platforms operate internationally, their regional content decisions are heavily interconnected. “The decision-makers for these platforms — even those based in hubs such as Singapore or Dubai — are often our Indian colleagues and friends. But when the political directive from the top dictates that they should not work with Pakistan, their hands are tied.

“Why would a platform risk its massive Indian market for a Pakistani original? Many projects are not moving forward, entirely due to politics,” Haseeb says flatly.

Reflecting on the global journey of the Zee5-commissioned Dhoop Ki Deewar (DKD) — which dealt precisely with the Indo-Pak conflict through the friendship forged between a Pakistani and an Indian over the loss of their parents — Haseeb laments the local hurdles the project faced and calls on authorities to understand the content before jumping to conclusions.

“In Pakistan, everything becomes a hyper-fixated trend within days, and this knee-jerk reaction happens to a lot of genuinely good projects,” the director says, emphasising the immense heart, soul and hard work poured into DKD by the entire team, including lead actors Sajal Aly and Ahad Raza Mir.

Despite the local backlash, Haseeb finds solace in the show’s massive international success. “Internationally, the global media considers DKD as my definitive project and, for that, I am incredibly grateful.”

Despite the challenges of an evolving television industry, shrinking creative freedom and geopolitical barriers, Haseeb remains convinced that the future of Pakistani storytelling lies not in bigger budgets or longer serials, but in stronger scripts, meaningful collaborations and emotional honesty.

He recalls being told by a cross-border team, “We have the technique, we have the technology in India — but we come to you for the soul.”

“Our stories have a heartbeat,” he reflects.

Clearly, for Haseeb Hasan, preserving that heartbeat is what matters most.

The writer is a freelance contributor with over two decades of experience in entertainment. He can be reached at asifkhan.media@yahoo.com

Published in Dawn, ICON, July 19th, 2026

The round bottle gourd, locally known as lauki, is one of the most commonly used vegetables for daily meals, especially in South Asian cuisines.

People cook it in different ways — making curries, frying it with spices, pairing it with lentils [daal], or adding chutneys and side sauces. The same vegetable also works beautifully in sweets, with popular desserts like kheer and halwa being made from it. However, it’s best to use young round bottle gourds with soft seeds for desserts, rather than mature ones that have harder seeds.

But behind every lauki curry is a plant that takes real care to grow — starting with pollination.

Successful pollination — whether carried out naturally by pollinators or manually through hand pollination — requires the transfer of pollen from the male flower to the centre of the female flower. Even before pollination occurs, female flowers have a small, fruit-like swelling called the ovary just beneath the petals. This ovary also makes it easy to tell male and female flowers apart.

The round bottle gourd is a South Asian kitchen staple, but knowing how it grows — and when to pick it — makes all the difference between a tender curry and a woody one

If the pollination is unsuccessful, the female flower wilts, turns yellowish and, eventually, falls off. A successful pollination results in the ovary increasing in size over the next few days.

During the fruiting phase, the plant needs regular water, sunlight and fertiliser. Keep the soil surface moist, without letting it dry out completely. The developing bottle gourds should hang freely and not touch the ground — if they rest on wet soil, they are likely to rot and spoil.

After a successful pollination, it takes between two to three weeks for the round bottle gourd to start forming. At this juncture, the vegetable is so tender that a slight pressure from the thumb can, sometimes, cause the gourd’s skin to peel off.

In ideal gardening conditions, the gourd is ready for harvest approximately two months after sowing. The traditional method to check if it is ready for harvest is to scratch it slightly with the fingernail — if the gourd goes in or scratches off easily, the fruit is young and tender, which is ideal for culinary use.

Sometimes, tiny hairs are visible on the lauki skin. These light hairs also indicate the freshness and readiness of the vegetable. A simple wash will make the hairs vanish, though they are also removed during peeling.

When the gourd is left on the vine for too long, it becomes overripe. The skin hardens and resists the fingernail test, while the flesh turns woody and bitter. The soft inner flesh becomes tough and fibrous, and the tender seeds are replaced with hard, inedible ones.

When harvesting the round bottle gourd, avoid pulling it off the vine. The stem is firmly attached, and yanking the fruit can disturb the entire vine, potentially injuring other developing fruits, flowers, leaves and roots. Twisting the fruit — as you might with a lemon — is also not advisable, as the stalk is tough and flexible, making it difficult to detach cleanly. Instead, simply cut the fruit off using gardening scissors or pruning shears, leaving about an inch of the stalk attached.

A single gourd vine grown in a 14-inch pot typically produces two to three good-sized fruits when fed with organic fertiliser. Using chemical fertiliser can further boost the yield. If the same vine is grown directly in the ground, the harvest can roughly double compared to a 14-inch container, regardless of whether organic or chemical fertilisers are used.

To ensure optimal harvest, it is critical to protect the vine from pests throughout its life cycle. Installing green net saves the plant from hungry birds overhead. It also protects the flowers, young fruits and even the leaves from unwanted sunlight exposure during scorching afternoons.

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, July 19th, 2026

Sometimes, it takes a formidable marketing budget and videos of food having a “hero moment” — a chocolate bar breaking to reveal crunchy pistachio kunafe, or a cookie tin being scooped to show luscious chocolate inside — to kick-start a food “trend”. And sometimes, it just happens.

And before you know it, you are one of more than 200 people lined up on a Sunday morning — it’s technically noon, but I had to wake up very early to get here by then — at an artsy corridor in the middle of Habitt City in Karachi’s Tipu Sultan locality.

It’s hot. If there are air-conditioners or fans on you can’t feel them. The line is moving slowly, but not a single person is showing signs of leaving.

“Hope they don’t run out of the savoury danishes,” I hear someone say behind me.

Until that moment, I hadn’t realised that my mind was also trying to shut out the same fear.

From mango custard to butter chicken, Karachi’s pastry chefs are turning the humble Danish pastry into the city’s most sold-out treat

Danish pastries crept up in the Karachi food scene out of nowhere. You’d be hard pressed to find them on a restaurant’s regular menu and they have never been a “viral” moment on Karachi’s social media. And yet, at every food pop-up that happens in the city, the pastries always sell out the fastest.

I am currently at Maryam Motiwala’s food pop-up called The Salted Butter Club. After every five minutes, a person from her team, using a black marker, crosses out an item from the handwritten menu hung up behind the counter. It’s yet another Danish that just got sold out.

What is it about a Danish pastry that has the city in such a fix?

“It is a really smart creation,” says Motiwala, a pastry chef. “You have the flakiness and the richness from the croissant dough and it’s the perfect base, because no matter what you put in it, it will work,” she adds. “Any flavour works.”

Motiwala would know, because it was at her pop-up I discovered a milk and cereal Danish, and also a Middle East-inspired eggplant and labneh (strained yogurt) pastry.

She says that using a simple cream or custard filling in a Danish pastry would, in her view, be letting the pastry down. “I am afraid of making it too basic.”

Tooba Haq, another pastry chef who is known to do supper clubs and pop-ups in the city, agrees. “Karachi already loves croissants, so when you take the same vessel and you can either make it sweet or savoury, there is a lot of room for different flavours,” she says.

Another advantage is that it isn’t a “melty” pastry — the filling remains stable and doesn’t soften or ooze in Karachi’s heat. This makes it perfect for eating on the go, whether you’re running errands or heading to work.

Today, if you venture out to find a Danish pastry in Karachi, you will probably find a fresh mango and custard danish at popular bakeries such as Springs and Fresh Basket.

At a cafe called Dear Croissant, there is a savoury Danish called spinach and mushroom pastry that is very well-liked. Test Kitchen sometimes keeps a creamy chicken Danish that tastes more like butter chicken, with slightly sweet notes.

However, the reason people line up for them at different pop-ups is because they want to explore newer flavour pairings.

“The curated pop-ups have a specific audience,” explains Haq. “A lot of people who show up are people who travel frequently and who understand the techniques and flavours that go into creating these pastries.”

Newer upscale cafés in Karachi, such as Wildflour, seem to have caught on. So if you go there on a weekend, you can get yourself a mango and sticky rice pastry and a hot dog-inspired Danish pastry — and not just a pastry filled with fruit and custard.

One thing is for sure: this is not just another gimmicky trend. In fact, the popularity of Danishes in Karachi reveals that people are hungry for food that’s quick to eat but still lets them explore new flavours — some reminiscent of travel abroad, others paying homage to home. A mango and custard Danish nods to Pakistan’s seasonal produce; a milk and cereal one is pure childhood nostalgia.

When I ask Motiwala if she has a “dream” Danish pastry that she is yet to execute, she says it’s one using the shareefa [custard apple], which she calls a complex fruit. “I’d maybe use a white chocolate custard filling with fresh shareefa on top. That would be really awesome.”

The reviewer is a food writer and a digital content creator. Instagram: @GirlGottaEat

Published in Dawn, EOS, July 19th, 2026