Well, it’s been long since I last wrote something. And honestly, I kind of know exactly why. It’s one of those instances where words fall short, even if you were allowed to utter them at all, in a very cossetted mayhem – for the land of promise has descended into an era of hopelessness retrofitted with confusion, fear and questions, far too many. While we, as a nation, suffer from historical amnesia, we aren’t too young to forget that Pakistan, since its very inception, has been suffering from an identity crisis. We have had kleptocratic rulers, with energy, water, foreign exchange issues, and never-ending fetishists of martial law imposers. But somehow, this sense of loss and betrayal has never been this strong. Why so? What could have happened that rendered almost entirely a nation of 250 million feeling dejected? Could it be the severity of these issues? Or perhaps, something more innate, more inherent? Many have noted that a record number of Pakistanis are fleeing the country for better prospects abroad – again, a claim that has been challenged by others. While they might be right in challenging the severity of the issue, one thing is for certain: the number of people wanting to leave Pakistan has significantly increased, be it labourers or professionals (a notion that did not exist previously). And the fact of the matter is, you know the landscape is grisly and the country is bankrupted at the very rudimentary level when people are willing to risk lives to escape – the Greek boat tragedy. The ideologically glamorous label of Pakistan being the first nuclear Muslim country isn’t enough to feed stomachs. But why so? And more importantly, why so now? Perhaps the answer is too simple and far too difficult to put on paper at the same time. But there’s one thing for certain: the vendors of hollow hope, despite colouring their idea of hope in all shades of bright cyan, fluorescent orange and electric green, have failed miserably and shamefully. And again, those who could once style themselves as the ‘necessity’ – the one thing that was supposed, to be handedly responsible for holding Pakistan together – are vulnerable and volatile, especially when the air has been cleared. Stories told. Fingers pointed. Faces out. The blinds are gone; the circus has been revealed. Pakistan as a country, and more so as a nation, is at a point where the demos have to decide, act, and ask those perched atop the corridors of power: where the country is headed, and by whom? The ideologically glamorous label of Pakistan being the first nuclear Muslim country isn’t enough to feed stomachs – it never was. Why is it that those who got independence with us, India, and those who got it afterwards, Bangladesh, are far ahead in areas of education, health, space exploration and economy? My comments might not sit well with some of the readers, but the fact of the matter is, that we are bedevilled by our flimsy past and continue to be in its thrall. However, today, I don’t want to end this piece as a defeatist. I am hopeful for the future, so much so that some might even refer to me as a Pangloss. But this isn’t unfounded optimism, it rests with the youth of today, of Pakistan: the lodestone of tomorrow’s progress, of correcting all the wrongs that have been committed, of fixing whatever’s broken in this country. The tomorrow that thinks, navigates and engages. Because as Hannah Arendt put it, no thought is dangerous, thinking itself is. And not for your own sake, but for the same formidable old challenge. Today’s Pakistan’s need is a youth not consisting of chauvinists, not those who feel emasculated by accepting the wrongs of yesterday, but those who espouse new ideas, are open to new discourses and labour to actively and deliberately build a country that exudes a sense of belonging for all. While it may seem very flowery on paper, it would not heed too much without potent struggle and raw passion – that too, from the very grassroots levels. An example would be the the form of vibrant student unions which would act to be seminal in the future political developments within the country. Similarly, increasing political literacy for people coming from all walks of life, from all creeds, would be necessary to ensure that the supposed drivers of the country take their cues from the ones crushed the hardest. And above all, for us, it would do well to not pander or delegate, but to take active responsibility – for caste, class, religion or sect doesn’t make someone any less of a Pakistani. The house – my house, our house – is burning, a dream manqué of all and everything that could have been. But all hope is not lost – for the house hasn’t come crashing down yet. The writer is the President of the LSESU Future of Pakistan Conference and a final-year law student