Moloo Musalli: In Search of Lost Humanity
By Dr Muhammad Amjad Saqib
Readings
ISBN: 978-9696403630
195pp.
Dr Muhammad Amjad Saqib, the founder of the NGO Akhuwat, is a well-known and respected figure in Pakistan. His organisation successfully subverted the dominant microfinance model of the times by starting an interest-free microfinance programme based on principles of Qarz-i-Hasna [interest-free loan].
Akhuwat was founded in 2001, and has now gone beyond microfinance services into a much broader poverty alleviation programme, covering not only finance but also education, vocational training and disaster relief. In Pakistan’s bleak socioeconomic landscape, Akhuwat is an example of how to keep hope alive.
Dr Saqib has spent a lifetime engaging with Pakistan’s citizenry at all levels, but particularly with the poor and marginalised sections of society. The book under review, Moloo Musalli, is a series of pen portraits and short essays, which draws from his interactions with people all over the country over the past decades.
The title is symbolic of an ordinary citizen of Pakistan — someone who does not have titles, wealth, assets or a family name to draw from. It refers to the landless, the poor, the downtrodden — those who are marginalised and exist at the fringes of society. All of the short essays in this book refer in one way or another to such people.
Almost all of the essays are difficult to read, simply because they highlight truths that many of us prefer to forget. There is the story of Sonoo in ‘A Prostitute’, whose father sold her into prostitution when she was barely out of her teens. There is also Arshad Mahmood, who was brought up in a prison as his mother had been convicted of a crime and his relatives refused to take him in, in ‘The Innocent Prisoner’.
In ‘Buried Alive’, you have Rashida, who was brought up in Norway, and found love there with another Pakistani immigrant. But she was murdered by her family, as her lover was not of the same caste. Meanwhile, Humaira in ‘The City of the Blind’ went blind in her childhood, but continued her studies and qualified for a government job, only to face red tape when it came to securing a suitable posting. In ‘A Bureaucratic Odyssey’, Mohsin, a government employee without the right connections, cannot secure leave to proceed on an academic scholarship.
A collection of deeply affecting essays captures the struggles, dignity and resilience of Pakistan’s overlooked citizens while asking difficult questions about the society they inhabit
Each story is heart-breaking. But then, when one least expects it, a glimmer of hope shines through in some cases. For instance, we find out that Sonoo in ‘A Prostitute’ was adopted by a kind man who became a father figure to her and helped her leave the red-light area after her father’s death.
Similarly, Arshad in ‘The Innocent Prisoner’ did not take to a life of crime and, in fact, ran a small business after growing up and getting out of prison. In ‘Hold On’, Ehsan ul Haq, who lost his catering business in a fire, was able to slowly build another small business in packaged spices. There is the essay ‘Some Wheelchairs Continue to Move’, which is about Sajan and Waqas, two young boys who are differently abled, and unable to use their limbs. In both cases, a gift of a wheelchair to each boy transformed their lives, enabling them to get to school and college respectively, and to operate somewhat independently.
Still, not all of the stories end happily, but the few that do, help to restore one’s faith in the resilience of human beings, and lead one to hope that sometimes things do change because of the intervention of kind individuals or groups.
Some of the essays highlight the work of individuals who are largely unknown outside their communities, but have brought hope and progress in their small circles. There is Moharram un Nisa Begum of Hafizabad in ‘Muharram un Nisa Begum: Builder of a Nation’, who offered her home as a venue for a school in a village where, until 1990, there was no school for girls. She may be single-handedly responsible for raising the literacy rate for females in her village.
There is Nazia Ramzan, who worked tirelessly for a microfinance bank, bringing economic opportunities to people’s doorsteps in ‘Star of Distinction.’ She meets a tragic fate, but her story is inspiring. Dr Amjad has even written about people who have worked in his office, and who have performed their duties zealously and honestly for years in the essay ‘Muhammad Aslam and Nadeem David.’ For the author, they are to be celebrated for their dedication and hard work, regardless of whether they gain recognition in the wider world.
The author also has a series of questions for his readers and for society at large. Some of these are rhetorical — questioning whether Pakistanis are indeed dishonest, should rulers amass wealth or does God’s wrath only target the poor. Others are more reflective — an essay on the ‘Quagmire of Usury’ relates the story of a woman running a small business who takes a loan from a neighbourhood moneylender only to find herself being threatened with unimaginable penalties when she cannot repay the loan on time.
Another essay ‘The Death of the East: Story of an Old Man’ is about the death of family values in the East and tells the tale of an elderly, educated man living in a mosque after his children have taken over his assets and left him to fend for himself.
Each of the essays makes us think about what sort of a society we want. Are we content with a system where it’s every man (or woman) for him/herself, or do we want to see a Pakistan with equal opportunity for all, and a system of basic services in place, which would justify the taxes we pay?
For most of us, the answer to this is obvious. But there are a few people, like Dr Muhammad Amjad Saqib, who have taken it upon themselves to light a candle in the darkness. His effort needs to be supported in every way.
The reviewer is a researcher and policy analyst
Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, July 12th, 2026