Love in any form should be unconditional and should not have any expectations in return, no matter how legitimate it is. Patriotism, which has been dissected in various ways by a number of politicians, thought leaders, artists, poets, philosophers, fiction writers, and warrior intellectuals, is one of the best examples of this kind of love. One of my most favorite and beloved writers, Kundera, wrote in his novel “Ignorance” that “[Large countries’] patriotism is different: they are buoyed by their glory, their importance, their universal mission. The Czechs loved their country not because it was glorious but because it was unknown; not because it was big but because it was small and in constant danger. Their patriotism was an enormous compassion for their country.” Love, no matter how beautiful, cherished, and energizing an act, feeling, emotion, or thought it appears, is ultimately a scary thing. It demands devastation and destruction. As long as these attributes remain confined to non-tangible things like ego, entitlements, or nafs, they appear noble, pure, and mystical. However, when love and the desire to assert authority and institute tyrannical control are muddled, the “love” metamorphizes from mermaids of fairy tales to real-life monsters. Hence, it is predictable that many times, patriotism and nationalism are mixed up, and political capital is attained with brazen nerve. I feel duty-bound to put some of the thoughts swirling in my head and the sentiments weighing on my heart into printable sentences, perhaps for the last time, regarding a topic that deeply affects me. It concerns the ethnic community known as Biharis, who are often derogatorily referred to and stranded in camp-like settings within the People’s Republic of Bangladesh. This country was coerced to separate from the present-day Islamic Republic of Pakistan in 1971. Approximately three to four lakh individuals, unwavering lovers of our Pakistan, find themselves confined to suffocating spaces in around 116 squalid camps spread across Dhaka and at least 13 other regions of the country. Many times, patriotism and nationalism mix up, and political capital is attained with brazen nerve. The young generation within these ghettos, as well as those living as first-grade citizens of Bangladesh and citizens of diverse ethnic backgrounds in Pakistan, lack authentic information about the blood-stained past. Yet, they find themselves entangled in different versions of the same ideology. Beyond this prison of conflicting views, the realities of today persist. One reality is that the allure of cinema does not deter Bengalis from watching Bollywood movies and mesmerizing dramas on Pakistani TV channels, nor does it prevent them from becoming fluent in speaking Urdu or “Hindi.” Ironically, the same language is often accused of being a source of initiating bloodshed and riots, which is a point I find essential to acknowledge. Another reality is the love for Cricket, which does not hinder Bengalis from applauding good cricket from the Pakistani side or becoming fans of players like a Pathan Shahid Afridi or a Punjabi Babar Azam. I must emphasize that I intentionally mentioned the ethnicity of our hero cricketers. In the age of specialties and sub-sub-specialties, these topics are perhaps reserved for IR experts or defense analysts and definitely not for the likes of me. However, I would like to claim the space in this domain for all likes of me who have actually suffered due to elitism, hatred, social injustices, and selective amnesia of the mighty ones in our respective countries. As an unconditional lover and single passport holder, I dare to say that Pakistan was created through the sacrifices of millions of Muslims mainly from the minority provinces of united India, in which Muslims of Bihar and Bengal played a decisive role. It was broken on 16 December 1971. For the first time in the history of the world, a minority got detached from the majority wing. And for the first time (maybe), an extraordinarily abled army was doomed when it had to surrender to another wise guest actor in a dramatic manner. This is not the end of the list of humiliating firsts in our history. For the first time, the nationals were stripped of their nationality (Pakistani) and left alone in the newly liberated country. For the first time, the broken and amputated wing readily accepted the new country, established diplomatic relations, and forgot their people who waited and waited for Pakistani planes for homecoming. This chapter of our civil, political, and military history is dyed with half-baked truths included in the syllabus of a few thousand who are privileged enough to attend any school in Pakistan that has more than 25 million out-of-school children. This chapter also has stammering apologies (e.g., by President, Gen. Musharraf on his visit to Dhaka in 2002). This chapter has some emotional and intellectual touch through books like “Of Martyrs and Marigolds” (Aquila Ismail) “Creation of Bangladesh, Myths Exploded” (Junaid Ahmed), or “Tormented Truth” (S.M.Hali) at the domestic level. Internationally, an impressive amount of literature exists, mainly from Indian and Bangladeshi origin academics pursuing their rewarding careers in the US, UK, Australia, and Canada. What is missing is the truth-the ordeals of those who are being punished and who have been practically abandoned, betrayed, and erased. There is no voice, or at least a loud, clear, and impactful one, in the realm of so-called independent media, activism, and academia for the sincere apology to Bengalis and Biharis, with a special mention of the raped women (even if one woman was raped, an apology is needed), and repatriation of the stranded Pakistanis. I am weak in math and diplomacy. Therefore, this year, I extend my best wishes to my only homeland, Pakistan, on its 52nd Birthday or rebirth. May you become empathetic and implement social justice. On this important occasion, I would also request the honorable COAS of the Pakistan Army to look into the matter for demanding acknowledgment and reconciliation and ensuring a moral victory, as that is the only immortal victory any mortal could achieve. The writer is a serial social entrepreneur ,activist ,gender expert and former TV anchor & producer. She can be reached at founderkafekaam@gmail.com