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SOCIETY: BETWEEN VISIBILITY AND VIOLENCE

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On a narrow, bustling street in Mansehra in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, evening light spills between tangled electric wires and shop signs. A transgender woman adjusts her dupatta, places her phone against a wall and presses record.

For a few seconds, the world is simple: music, movement, a small performance meant for an audience somewhere beyond the street. The video lasts less than a minute.

By the time night settles over the town, it has travelled far beyond the pavement where it was filmed. The clip is downloaded, reshared, passed between strangers. Comments begin to appear — mocking first, then explicit, before becoming threatening. Messages follow in private inboxes: propositions, insults, warnings.

What began as an act of visibility becomes unsafe exposure.

For many transgender Pakistanis navigating the country’s rapidly expanding digital world, this is the fragile bargain of social media. Platforms that promise connection, income and identity also open the door to harassment, surveillance and blackmail — risks intensified by limited digital literacy and weak institutional protection.

As the world observes the International Transgender Day of Visibility on March 31, Pakistan’s historically marginalised transgender community is finding greater visibility online amid rapid digitalisation. But it comes at a cost that only a few can navigate and many were never warned about…

In a society where public space has long been hostile to transgender people, the internet once appeared to offer something radical: the chance to be seen.

But visibility, it turns out, has a price.

A NEW STAGE

Over the past decade — and particularly since the Covid-19 pandemic accelerated digital life — social media has reshaped how Pakistanis communicate, work and present themselves to the world. TikTok videos, WhatsApp groups and Facebook pages now function as informal marketplaces, entertainment channels and community spaces.

For transgender communities historically pushed to the margins of economic life and often facing violence, these platforms have opened unexpected opportunities. Malika, a 29-year-old transgender woman in Mansehra, describes social media as a gateway to both recognition and income.

“I have videos on TikTok and songs on YouTube,” she tells Eos. “I’ve connected with many people through these platforms. Many [people] in our community use TikTok to show their beauty — if you are visible, you get opportunities for functions and events.”

For performers who traditionally relied on word-of-mouth networks to secure work at weddings or celebrations, online visibility can bring new clients. Daily life itself becomes content: birthday gatherings, shared meals, small purchases that mark moments of pride.

“We share moments from our lives,” Malika explains. “If someone buys something nice — maybe gold or furniture — people show it,” she continues. “Even if a friend gives a small ring worth ten rupees, it still becomes a video.”

These glimpses of ordinary life are quietly radical. For decades, public narratives about transgender Pakistanis reduced them to narrow stereotypes — dancers at weddings, beggars at traffic signals, figures of ridicule or superstition. Social media allows them to tell different stories.

But the same exposure that attracts followers can also attract predators.

WHEN THE AUDIENCE TURNS HOSTILE

Visibility online can quickly translate into surveillance in the physical world.

“Since the use of social media increased, harassment and violence have also increased,” Malika admits. “People come to know that a beautiful transgender person lives in a particular area,” she adds. “Then they start recognising them.”

Sometimes that recognition becomes intimidation. “Some people threaten us or force us to go to parties,” Malika elaborates. “They say if we refuse, they will open fire at our homes.”

Blocking users provides little relief. “How many people can we keep blocking?”

For Katrina, a 40-year-old transgender woman in Mansehra, the dangers of online trust became painfully clear. “A friend asked me to join a video call and entertain him by undressing,” she recalls quietly. “Because I trusted him, I agreed.”

The call was secretly recorded, Katrina tells Eos. “He later sent the videos back to me on WhatsApp and threatened to make them viral.”

What began as a private interaction turned into blackmail — a reminder of how easily digital intimacy can become digital control.

THE DIGITAL LITERACY DIVIDE

These vulnerabilities are often magnified by a lack of digital literacy within parts of the community, shaped by geography and varying levels of exposure.

Sonia, a 24-year-old transgender woman who has worked with a transgender rights organisation in Mansehra, says many community members began using social media with little understanding of privacy tools or security settings. “There is hardly any privacy on Facebook,” she explains. “And on TikTok, most people don’t set privacy settings because they don’t know how these platforms work.”

Some users needed help even creating accounts. “I helped set up accounts for most of them,” Sonia tells Eos.

Without basic knowledge of account security or reporting mechanisms, users can become easy targets for impersonation, scams and harassment.

Malika remembers the shock of discovering someone had created a fake account using her name and photographs. “The account started messaging people while pretending to be me,” she says. Rumours spread quickly within the community, damaging her reputation. “I had to record a video telling everyone the account was fake,” Malika continues. “That was the only way to protect myself.”

Even then, the sense of vulnerability lingered. But, as Malika points out, the same social media also saved her life — by posting a video to tell the world that the account did not belong to her.

But not many know of the security measures and safeguards within, points out Zaini, a 32-year-old transgender woman in Rawalpindi. “I know how to use privacy settings, block accounts and report abuse — things many in smaller cities aren’t aware of yet,” she tells Eos.

This contrast reveals how digital vulnerability is shaped by geography and structural inequality.

In a big city like Rawalpindi, where people from different cities intersect, stronger community networks and peer-based learning create greater exposure to digital tools and safety practices — forming a layer of informal protection that allows users to navigate risks with more awareness.

In places such as Mansehra, interrupted education, economic marginalisation and isolation limit both access to technology and opportunities to learn, with many picking up digital skills informally and without a clear understanding of privacy or consent.

Across both settings, fear of reporting abuse persists, but the lack of accessible digital safety knowledge in smaller cities deepens vulnerability — highlighting that digital literacy is not just an individual skill but a structural necessity to ensure visibility does not come at the cost of safety.

THE COST OF PRIVACY

In theory, privacy settings could reduce these risks. In practice, they often threaten livelihoods.

“If we make our accounts private, it will affect our work,” Sonia says. “We will receive fewer event bookings.”

For performers and content creators whose income depends on public visibility, hiding from the audience is rarely an option. “Why can’t we be protected on these platforms?” asks Sonia. “Many other people have public accounts,” she continues. “Why are men not blackmailed the way we are?”

The question reveals a deeper inequality: transgender users are expected to navigate public platforms while carrying risks others rarely face. Safety and survival often pull in opposite directions.

WHEN THE INTERNET FOLLOWS

YOU HOME

For some transgender users, online harassment quickly escapes the digital realm.

Zaini says repeated threats forced her to rethink how she appears online. “I’ve had so many experiences that I’ve become cautious,” she says. “Now I use a fake account and, on TikTok, I upload videos with an emoji covering my face.”

Zaini says the situation has come to the point where she was compelled to apply for a visa abroad. “I’ve faced so much violence and abuse online that I’m seeking asylum.”

For others, digital threats have already reshaped their lives.

Saman, a 23-year-old transgender woman, says a former friend threatened to leak private photographs after they had travelled together. “He said he would post them on TikTok and Facebook,” she recalls.

The threats escalated rapidly. Saman tells Eos that the man resorted to blackmail and threatened to throw acid on her. Fear forced her to abandon her search for a job and return to Pakistan from the United Arab Emirates.

These stories illustrate a disturbing pattern: online harassment often becomes a precursor to offline danger. Screenshots reveal identities; messages reveal locations. Once that information escapes into hostile networks, intimidation can move easily from the digital space into the physical world, forcing transgender individuals to change their routines, hide their identities, or even leave their homes and communities to stay safe.

SILENCE AS SURVIVAL

Despite these risks, many transgender survivors choose not to report cybercrime.

Kami Chaudhry, a trans activist who is also a model, says she faced significant online backlash and reported it through both online mechanisms and directly to the Federal Investigation Agency (FIA) and the recently constituted National Cyber Crime Investigation Agency.

Despite multiple attempts, including office visits, there was little follow-up or meaningful assistance, Kami tells Eos. “Cyber harassment and abuse are not treated with the urgency they deserve.”

“I never even thought about filing a complaint,” Saman says. Her reasoning is blunt: “Abusers know no one will stand up for us.”

When transgender people approach authorities, she says, their complaints are often dismissed or ignored. “Even when we go after being beaten and covered in blood, no one listens,” Saman adds.

If physical violence is ignored, reporting online abuse can feel futile. For many, silence becomes a form of protection.

THE INTERNET AS DISCOVERY

But the digital world is not only a place of danger. For many transgender Pakistanis — particularly younger ones — it is also where identity begins.

Umrao Jaan, a 30-year-old transgender woman in Rawalpindi, says the internet helped her understand herself. “My journey started from the internet,” she tells Eos. “Through the internet I realised I was not alone.”

As a child, she felt isolated, unsure how to explain her identity. Online videos and discussions offered answers. “I created two Facebook accounts,” she says with a laugh. “One for family and one where I searched for information.”

Through those hidden searches, Umrao Jaan discovered communities, conversations and knowledge about gender identity and transitioning. Social media, she believes, has changed how younger transgender Pakistanis see their futures.

For her generation, the internet is not only a stage but also a classroom.

Yet Umrao Jaan also recognises the risks. “Social media has increased both vulnerability and popularity,” she says. “People know who we are and where we are.”

She remembers meeting a man on a dating app, who used fake photographs. “When I went to meet him, I realised he was someone completely different,” she says.

The encounter ended safely, but the experience revealed how quickly online interactions can become dangerous. “The abuse often shifts from online spaces to offline spaces,” she says. “After meeting people in real life, exploitation can become financial, physical or psychological.”

A STRUCTURAL PROBLEM

Digital rights advocates argue these stories reveal deeper systemic gaps.

Nighat Dad, founder of the Lahore-based Digital Rights Foundation (DRF), says even a small number of complaints from the transgender community signals significant underreporting. “Limited digital literacy makes people more vulnerable at every stage,” she explains. “For transgender communities, this risk is multiplied because survivors already face stigma and economic exclusion.”

Dad adds that these vulnerabilities are compounded by systemic gaps in how abuse is addressed online, particularly across major social media platforms.

“It is the gap between law, enforcement and survivor experience,” she continues. “Many transgender survivors fear secondary victimisation: being mocked, misgendered, judged or forced to defend their identity instead of having the abuse addressed.”

Pakistan’s cyber harassment cases continue to rise each year. Yet many transgender victims remain reluctant to report abuse due to fear of humiliation, delays or indifference from authorities.

While activists highlight the everyday vulnerabilities created by limited digital literacy and gaps in platform enforcement, policymakers point to the structural and legal shortcomings that exacerbate these risks. National Assembly member Sharmila Faruqui believes the country’s legal protections have not kept pace with its digital expansion.

One way to rectify this is through stakeholder engagement, says Faruqui. Parliamentary committees should hold consultations with transgender activists, civil society groups, digital rights experts and community leaders before drafting or amending laws, she tells Eos.

“Inclusion should mean that the experiences of transgender citizens are reflected in the language of the law, in enforcement guidelines and in oversight mechanisms,” she asserts.

Without stronger implementation and survivor-centred reporting systems, laws alone offer little protection.

THE DOUBLE-EDGED SCREEN

For transgender Pakistanis, the internet remains a space of contradictions — a fragile lifeline and a fault line at once. It is here that many first find the language to name themselves, the community to belong to and the visibility to challenge generations of erasure.

Yet the same spaces amplify harm with equal speed: a single video travels beyond control, a private exchange mutates into blackmail, a screenshot hardens into evidence against one’s own existence.

In this ecosystem, abuse is not confined to the screen; it seeps outward, collapsing the boundary between digital and physical worlds, where visibility can so quickly become vulnerability.

In a country racing toward digitalisation, safety cannot remain an afterthought. For transgender Pakistanis, the promise of visibility must not come at the cost of vulnerability. What is needed is not retreat from these platforms, but reform within them: stronger, more responsive reporting mechanisms and accessible digital safety training that equips users to navigate risk without dimming their presence.

The goal is simple yet urgent — to ensure that transgender individuals can exist online with the same ease, dignity and freedom as any other Pakistani, where expression is not shadowed by fear, but protected by design.

Zahra Naeem works in the development sector. She has studied gender studies and anthropology, and has experience in gender activism, research and advocacy

Laiba Nayyab works in the development sector and has experience of gender activism, community mobilisation and advocacy

Published in Dawn, EOS, March 29th, 2026


An earlier version of this article incorrectly listed Laiba Zainab as the co-writer. It has been updated to reflect Laiba Nayyab as the co-writer. The error is regretted.



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NON-FICTION: LANGUAGES WITHOUT BORDERS

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Zubaan Aur Tehzeeb
By Safdar Rasheed
Sang-e-Meel Publications
ISBN: 978-969-35-3716-1
311pp.

Zubaan Aur Tehzeeb [Language and Civilisation] is a recent book by Dr Safdar Rasheed, an author and researcher on language and culture, which is based on a series of discussions that Dr Rasheed held during his post-doctoral stay at Heidelberg University in Germany.

Instead of relying only on documents and archives when writing the book, he also spoke to European and South Asian scholars, teachers and writers on language, culture and education. Urdu, Hindi and Sanskrit are Dr Rasheed’s main interests, but there are dialogues in the book on Bengali, Tamil and Nepali as well. Through these, he explores these languages’ history, shared roots, conflicts and their links with religion and the nation. He also looks at their present condition.

One strength of the book is Dr Rasheed’s method of writing. He does not dominate the discussions. He simply asks questions and lets the other person speak freely. This makes the book more open and diverse in tone.

The first dialogue with Dr Anand Mishra, who became associated with Heidelberg University’s Department of Cultural and Religious History in 2009, concerns Sanskrit. It challenges the common view that Sanskrit was the language of only Brahmins. We learn that it once served as a “cosmopolitan” language across South Asia, written in various scripts and used in many regions. The discussion offers an overview of Sanskrit’s evolution, from an oral to a written tradition and traces it to South Asia’s oldest intellectual history.

Through a series of dialogues with scholars, a recent Urdu book examines language, identity and culture across South Asia and Europe

As an elite language Sanskrit was used by educated and scholarly groups for intellectual, religious and literary purposes. At the same time, it functioned as a lingua franca among people across different religions. So Dr Mishra says, people from the north of India could communicate with South Indians through Sanskrit. He also notes that much of South Asia’s ancient literature, including philosophical and scientific texts, is preserved in Sanskrit, making it one of the richest classical traditions in the world. Dr Mishra further explains that many modern South Asian languages emerged from, or were deeply influenced by, Sanskrit. Therefore, he describes them as tributaries of a larger linguistic river that is Sanskrit.

Finally, the discussion connects language to identity, culture and learning in the present day. Dr Mishra stresses that studying multiple languages helps uncover shared histories and encourages cultural exchange rather than division. Therefore, languages should not be seen as enemies.

The Urdu-Hindi conflict is not a conflict and shouldn’t be a matter of concern. The actual concern, he warns, is the English language and Americanisation, which is being spread in the name of so-called “globalisation”.

The most important dialogue in the context of today’s South Asia is with Dr Pankaj Prashar, associate professor of Hindi at Aligarh Muslim University. Here, the focus is on Urdu and Hindi and Dr Prashar’s main aim is to highlight the shared past of these two languages. Instead of stressing their differences, he emphasises their similarities. According to him, insisting too much on difference only feeds conflicts related to identity, which we already see taking place on both sides of the border, especially in India.

Dr Prashar argues that many Pakistanis hold mistaken views about India, which, he says, can only be corrected by learning more about the country and engaging directly with its people. He challenges the common belief that Urdu is neglected in India. Instead, more work on the language is being done there than in Pakistan, both today and historically. Urdu, he points out, continues to be recognised as a state language in parts of India.

Dr Prashar recalls that the first Urdu printing press was set up before Partition by a Hindu publisher, Munshi Nawal Kishore. He also points to the long tradition of Hindu writers and poets who contributed to Urdu literature, including Firaq Gorakhpuri (Raghupati Sahay), Jagan Nath Azad, Kali Das Gupta Raza, Rajinder Singh Bedi and Krishan Chander.

He further highlights the widespread use of Urdu in Hindi cinema, particularly in film songs. The author also praises the contributions of Sanjiv Saraf who, through the Rekhta Foundation that he founded, is serving Urdu on an international level.

He says that the Urdu-Hindi conflict is not a conflict and shouldn’t be a matter of concern. The actual concern, he warns, is the English language and Americanisation, which is being spread in the name of so-called “globalisation”.

English, he argues, is slowly taking over not only Urdu and Hindi but almost all South Asian languages. It appears to unite people but, in reality, it is pushing local languages to the side. This, he says, is a new kind of linguistic colonialism. It does not come with soldiers or flags, but with jobs, education, status and power.

He also says that this is not only a South Asian problem. In Europe, too, English is becoming dominant. Where there was once curiosity about different cultures, there is now a rush towards English because it means global access, jobs and mobility.

The book also connects this language shift to modern life, in which language has largely become a tool, not a ‘home’. People choose the language that gives them the most advantage, not the one that carries their memories or their histories.

Although Sanskit, Urdu and Hindi remain the main focus of the book, other dialogues discuss Nepali, Bengali and Tamil in South Asia and how they are taught in Europe, while others focus on language education in Europe, postdoctoral research systems, and the experiences of migrants.

The book is not a heavy theoretical work. And this is what makes it an accessible read for those who are interested in South Asian languages and their relationship with Europe. For students, teachers and general readers alike, it offers a calm but serious look at where our languages are going and what we might lose if we stop caring about them.

The reviewer is a member of staff.

X: WaqasAliRanjha

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, March 29th, 2026



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FICTION: FRIENDS AND DOUBTS

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My Friend Maya
By Amber Zaffar Khan
Lightstone Publishers
ISBN: 978-969-716-311-3
239pp.

The title of the novel, My Friend Maya, seemed appealing, and the book seemed like an easy read, full of good times spent between two friends, laughter and mirth. But that wouldn’t make for a captivating story, and let the book pass as ordinary.

No wonder then, contrary to my first impression, the plot of My Friend Maya is, in fact, quite complex, as it explores themes such as narcissism, mental illness and substance abuse.

The author of the book, Amber Zaffar Khan, is an Abu Dhabi-based Pakistani art, culture and literature enthusiast and promoter, who began her literary career with a non-fiction essay, ‘Ordinary Lives’, in the anthology Home #itscomplicated. From Abu Dhabi, where she has been living for the last 23 years, she runs a successful book club with like-minded, literature-loving ladies that offers a collaborative space for sharing and discussing literary interests. My Friend Maya is her debut novel.

The story centres on the complex friendship between two friends who cross paths in their 20s, after they briefly interacted in college. They are opposite in nature — Maya is adventurous and feisty, with a rebellious approach to life, while Sehar is cool and practical and lives her life according to a strict moral and ethical code.

A debut novel tells the tale of a complex friendship between two young women while also exploring themes such as narcissism, mental illness and substance abuse

While most people in Sehar’s circle who meet Maya find something disturbing in her eyes, Sehar accepts this as just one of her characteristics. She even ignores people’s advice to be careful, despite acknowledging that “in her eyes there was an underlying fierceness and something unsettling about their gaze that discouraged prolonged eye contact, as if they invoked a subtle kind of terror.”

However, over time, their relationship is tested, and the close bond they initially formed evolves into a tumultuous one. Sehar, a steadfast loyalist, who is very kind towards Maya, realises that there is more to Maya than her charming exterior. As the story progresses and more and more facets of Maya’s personality and life are revealed, Sehar begins to question some of Maya’s actions. She is at a loss when it comes to understanding Maya’s behaviour and looks for excuses to justify her actions, though in her heart she is perplexed and not at ease.

With time, she begins to re-evaluate her place in this friendship; she struggles to cope with Maya’s erratic behaviour and constant demands for attention and time, and she continuously analyses the dynamics between them but finds it difficult to reach a clear answer. Later, she is left wondering: “Four years wasted on the belief that I was her unflinching anchor, supporting her through her darkest hours, blind to the fact that she was orchestrating a web of deceit to keep me tethered to her. How foolish I had been to think I was her saviour, her confidante, while she played the victim.”

Even when Sehar learns that her friend is suffering from a mental illness, she is at a loss to understand her behaviour. She realises that “Mental illness could alter perception and behaviour in inexplicable ways.” Yet, she has her doubts: “Was … mental illness… a genuine cause of her unstable behaviour, where the individual loses command over their thoughts and actions? Or were all the manipulations, lies and deceit also part of her personality, just compounded by her illness?”

This thought-provoking book explores the themes of psychological disorder, emotional manipulation and the human tendency for prejudice and domination, which often overlap and can profoundly damage interpersonal relations and the mental health of a person, often causing the victims to suffer from anxiety, depression and loss of self-worth.

It also addresses social taboos surrounding mental health, as well as the lack of awareness about — and understanding of — mental health problems, due to which it is difficult for people to detect if someone in the family or their circle of friends is suffering from a mental ailment. This sometimes results in the affected person’s condition deteriorating, and it is usually detected after too much water has flown under the bridge.

Furthermore, even if one realises there is a problem, seeking treatment can be difficult, due to the stigma attached to it. However, there is always hope for those who seek treatment, as when detected early and if the patient is surrounded by loving family and friends, the outcome can be positive.

Along with the relationship between the two friends, we read about issues in Sehar’s personal life — her family and her love life — which unfold as the story progresses and affect it at times. For instance, when her mother is hospitalised, Maya supports Sehar and stays overnight at her place so Sehar is not lonely. For this, Sehar feels deeply indebted to Maya for a long time, which may be another reason for her turning a blind eye or failing to see the reality of Maya’s mental state.

The reader gets a glimpse of Karachi of the mid-1980s and early 1990s through the eyes of young girls. For example, Sehar, while describing her college days in the mid-1980s, writes: “Those were simpler times; entertainment was simple and cost effective, and we were carefree youths indulging in innocent, innocuous frivolities”, such as playing badminton and throwball…; “other times just getting together and watching Top of the Pops on the VCR, or listening to music would make our day.” Readers who grew up during this time period are sure to feel nostalgic when reading such passages and will relate to them.

The book also touches on social norms now and then, the challenges faced by women of that era, the pressure to marry and the appropriate age for marriage — “Societal ethos of that era deemed that age [mid-20s] marriageable for girls” — and class consciousness. The friends, at one stage, openly discuss class differences and the characteristics that mark one as belonging to one class or another, and whether class differences affect one’s decisions, especially when choosing a life partner.

Though the book deals with some serious issues, it is a real page-turner, and the reader finds it difficult to put down, as the events in the girls’, especially Maya’s, lives keep the reader engrossed in the friends’ complex story that moves with twists and turns and keeps the reader guessing at what happens next.

The reviewer is a freelance journalist.

X: @naqviriz

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, March 29th, 2026



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NON-FICTION: A SOLDIER’S NATION

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An Incredible Journey of Pakistan: Evolution, Landmark Events and Their Impact
By Lt Gen (Retd) Talat Masood
Paramount Books (Pvt) Ltd
ISBN: 978-627-310419-5
256pp.

The introduction to An Incredible Journey of Pakistan: Evolution, Landmark Events and Their Impact, contains a blunt truth. Lt Gen (Retd) Talat Masood, the author, writes that, when he came to Pakistan from Hyderabad Deccan, he thought it would be a simple matter to build a new country and had not imagined “how many hurdles would be in our way.”

Furthermore, despite being a military man, he admits that a “skewed” civil-military balance has retarded the strengthening of civilian institutions and “distorted” the decision-making process.

Lt Gen Masood took part in the 1965 war and opines that it was not planned well by Pakistan. The people of India-occupied Kashmir did not revolt against Indian occupation as was expected then, though the Pakistan Army fought back well once the Indians crossed the international border. The author’s battalion was part of the 6th Armoured Division and was involved in one of the most crucial battles — Chawinda — where the enemy lost over 100 tanks.

The author offers two reasons for Pakistan’s superior performance during that battle: one, “the spirit and courage of junior officers and men”, and two, the superior quality of Pakistan’s US-supplied arms, as India, by contrast, used Soviet-made weapons.

Lt Gen (retd) Talat Masood’s memoirs are a military man’s recollections about his own idealism and professional journey as well as an honest assessment of the events and historic milestones that shaped Pakistan

The war was, however, a setback for President Gen Ayub Khan, according to the author, and he adds that the military leadership was “very West-Pakistan-centric”, and the air force was not taken into “full confidence” throughout the conflict. The book dwells at length on the disastrous consequences of the war and the effect of sanctions imposed after the war by the US and other Western countries. It also highlights the welcome outcome of these sanctions: Pakistan began developing its war industry with Chinese help.

A great admirer of China, Lt Gen Masood provides details of the Chinese contribution to the development of Pakistan’s defence industry. He focuses, in particular, on the Al Khalid tank which, according to him, was designed specifically to meet Pakistan’s needs and met ‘world-class’ standards in terms of “firepower, mobility, protection and survivability.”

The author says he felt proud that, with Chinese assistance, he initiated and completed several important defence products and set up manufacturing lines. China, he writes, “is clearly one country that has not only built Pakistan’s weapons and equipment but has been a major contributor in building Pakistan’s defence industrial capacity.”

He dwells at length on China’s Cultural Revolution and says that, in terms of infrastructure and human development, “they made more progress in the subsequent 30 years than they had done in the thousand years that preceded it” — an astonishing comment about a country, indeed, a civilisation — that gave mankind paper, printing, gunpowder and the compass.

However, few will disagree with the author when he gives credit to Deng Xiaoping, China’s leader after Mao Zedong, for his policy of “harnessing China’s energies with the introduction of capitalist practices.” Here, one cannot but recall Xiaoping’s famous retort when he was criticised for mixing capitalism with his reforms, which were undoubtedly giving results: “It doesn’t matter if a cat is black or white, as long as it catches mice.”

One point that Masood dwells on at length is the immense damage done to society by politicians who use the chaos and infighting in Afghanistan to whip up radical ideas among the youth. Millions — literally millions — of Afghan refugees had poured into Pakistan and it occurred to Gen Zia, among others, to don the robe of an anti-Soviet crusader to win Western applause.

Still, according to Masood, it was Mao who deserves the credit “for the unification of China by defeating the nationalist forces, establishing the People’s Republic and leading the most radical social revolution in human history.”

Today, according to the author, “China is a very different country. It is the world’s second-largest economy, an industrial powerhouse. It has global interests and aspirations. Chinese state-owned manufacturers have set their sights on high-value weapons systems and state-of-the-art arms technology.” He strikes a realistic tone when he says it would not be fair to expect China to offer weapons and equipment at concessional terms. “China is now in a different league, where it has to protect its national interests by retaining control of cutting-edge technologies.”

 A photograph from the 1980s of Lt Gen Talat Masood taking aim with the then Chief Minister of Punjab Nawaz Sharif at the Pakistan Ordinance Factories | Photo from the book
A photograph from the 1980s of Lt Gen Talat Masood taking aim with the then Chief Minister of Punjab Nawaz Sharif at the Pakistan Ordinance Factories | Photo from the book

Providence seemed to be behind the author’s appointment in 1977 as director of projects for the Pakistan Ordnance Factories when he was a colonel. This would later prove to be an asset during his subsequent relationship with the country’s defence industry, as China once again helped Pakistan.

One example of Pakistan-China defence cooperation is the FC-1 Xiaolong. It is a single-engine supersonic plane, developed jointly by the Pakistan Aeronautical Complex and the Chengdu Aircraft Corporation. It is known in Pakistan as the JF-17 Thunder.

While the chapter titled ‘Reclaiming Jinnah’s version’ does nothing but catch your attention, the latter chapters contain some of his most biting criticisms of the military leadership, especially of Gen Ziaul Haq’s policies that supported anti-Soviet fighters in Afghanistan. The US helped Zia in this enterprise “unabashedly” and “promoted radical Islam as a bastion against godless communism.”

One point that Masood dwells on at length is the immense damage done to society by politicians who use the chaos and infighting in Afghanistan to whip up radical ideas among the youth. Millions — literally millions — of Afghan refugees had poured into Pakistan and it occurred to Gen Zia, among others, to don the robe of an anti-Soviet crusader to win Western applause.

Similarly, madressahs [religious seminaries] come under harsh criticism from the author, who holds them responsible for radicalising religious education. Madressahs have traditionally played a commendable role in South Asian society but, under Gen Zia in the 1980s, the abuse of religious terminology for political purposes “gave a fillip” to the growth of jihadi organisations, according to the author.

That the author is remarkably intelligent is evident not only from his academic successes but from the recognition he received from military institutions at home and abroad. The chapter ‘Personal milestones and key events’ deserves to be read for the fragrance of his innocence. This fragrance would turn him into a passionate soldier for Pakistan — figuratively and literally. The man who shook him to the core had a charisma of his own, and was often referred to as having “razor sharp intelligence” and “armed to the teeth with the art of statesmanship” — Mohammad Ali Jinnah.

The author saw the Quaid-i-Azam when he visited Hyderabad, the homonymous capital of the state of Hyderabad and the biggest princely state of British India. The passage is appealing because it is written in the first person: “I am an impressionable adolescent, aware that India is on the brink of a new era and that India’s Muslims are looking for a homeland of their own. I begin to see Jinnah’s vision as a great change in India, full of promise for people like me who had mobilised from all over India to help create Pakistan, including the area now Bangladesh.”

On the whole, the book is characterised by objectivity, for the author has the courage to recognise not only his own shortcomings but of the institution he loves the most.

The reviewer is Dawn’s External Ombudsman and an author

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, March 29th, 2026



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