EVEN those who are perturbed by Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif’s infrequent visits to Pakistan will find it hard to fully understand the pains Punjab is undergoing these days.

Islamabad is more used to not having a Sharif. It was ruled by a non-Sharif, non-PML-N set-up between 1999 and mid-2013. Lahore by comparison was luckier in that it reclaimed Shahbaz Sharif in 2008 who then shined through a full term in office.

This is why the absence of a Sharif from the scene is more acutely felt in the Punjab capital. The system is so lacking in substance without Chief Minister Shahbaz angrily managing it as he used to until only a few months ago.

For all we know, the chief minister may be busy quietly building a tunnel which connects us to light. He may be taken up with the signing of some memo of understanding somewhere. That does not make his departure from the scene of action any more bearable for the crowd. It is like losing the practitioner par excellence, the man with every cure, to some tedious, unseen research project. The consequences are serious. Shahbaz’s absence is often and without too much effort equated with the absence of government. It is only after the chief minister manages to reoccupy his customary space on the newspaper’s front page that the public trust is somewhat restored and hopes rise regarding a dip in the price of tomatoes.

But on topics requiring slightly more tactful handling, say a sectarian clash, the chief ministerial takes do not inspire the same confidence as they would only a few months ago.

Obviously, the denial of the facility where it had a federal government to blame it all on has taken some of the sting out of the aggressive Punjab provincial discourse on all things bad. Uncertainty has set in. Thus when a bloody clash occurs in Rawalpindi, it takes time for an official response to shape up and find its way into the media.

Once again, as is usual for this latest term of his, CM Shahbaz is not inclined to promptly come on stage and issue a ready statement. His deputies take awfully long to decide how they want to go about revealing the truth.

As they mull over the grave situation, tension rises. Everyone who has something to say adds to the sense of impending danger. Everyone calls upon ‘people belonging to various religious schools’ to not play into the hands of the enemy.

We have seen better days. Compare the current confusion to the happenings during the period between 2008 and 2013. Then the PML-N government in Punjab could routinely point a finger at the PPP-led centre for letting it down. A terror strike in Punjab was always a result of intelligence failures of the federal agency.

The centre in its turn had Punjab to hold accountable for its ignorance and its refusal to pay heed to warnings sent its way. Invariably then-interior minister Rehman Malik would be there to counter-accuse Punjab over its law and order blunders.

It was anything but a dual among equals. The PML-N retained the high moral ground all along as the PPP struggled tamely to fight perceptions about its permanent incompetence to govern. But that blame game was a dose the addicts had become so used to. With practice they had learnt to derive a certain kind of pleasure from the cockfights between politicians and had come to believe that they had no role in the search for a solution to this problem. Can they continue in the same vein any longer?

Reports say there were signs of trouble brewing in Rawalpindi long before violence erupted. The difference this time was that all those who were responsible for taking notice of that tense build-up were, without exception, under the command of the PML-N leadership.

This was something the official spokesmen of the Punjab government found somewhat awkward to deal with since their response under the previous set-up had been more political than administrative and based on a wilful neglect of local factors.

Just as the Punjab government has lost that remarkably useful and ever-ready defence against occurrences, the people of Punjab have also been shocked out of a state where they could rely upon their understanding of convenient outside factors and absolve themselves of responsibility.

They must now face up to the questions and attempt to locate the answers. That search for answers has to be led by the government.

The government promises a thorough probe of Rawalpindi. However, because of its compulsions, while the results of that probe are awaited, the government must record a more immediate reaction to the violent incident. It does come up with one, not by innovation but by resort to the old.

Prime Minster Sharif’s first comment on Rawalpindi after his return from Bangkok earlier this week reads like a page from the chronicles of a powerless police station house officer somewhere. It does resonate with the aspirations of the common citizen but is desperately short on solutions.

The prime minister blames the old suspect, the police, not only on the basis of the available evidence but also due to the fact that with the federal agencies now on its side, the PML-N did not have too many choices.

Obviously, the government must be working on some comprehensive plan to tackle the sources of violence and hatred at the grass-roots. Maybe not the entire plan can be shared with people at this stage beyond rapping the plump policeman and barring the shouting at the loudspeaker as hate speech.

But just as the government leaders must appear by the side of the people in the people’s moments of need, there has to be a visible plan reflecting a resolve and strategy to inspire popular support. Unless that emerges, it does not make too much of a difference whether the house-minders are home or not.

The writer is Dawn’s resident editor in Lahore.