By Engineer Iftikhar Ch.
“True dignity and honor lie in freedom from servitude, and real freedom can only be attained through the servitude of God.” — Syed Abul A‘la Maududi
When these words echo through the corridors of thought, one feels that perhaps this is the very truth we have been seeking for decades. I was reminded of this reality most profoundly at a public gathering in Darkot. As I stood before the people and spoke, it felt as if a heavy boot had been lifted off my neck and for the first time I could breathe the air of freedom. That moment became a turning point in my life, reaffirming my belief that freedom is a priceless blessing.
Today, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa feels like an island — an island where, under the leadership of Ali Amin Gandapur, we are tasting the air of liberty we have long yearned for. This is the same land where Omar Ayub, with a voice trembling with both pain and resolve, declares that he is the grandson of a man who fought in the 1965 war, yet today he stands convicted under false charges with a sentence of forty years. His anguish, his conviction, and the resonance in his words affirm that this island is the only refuge where he, along with his brothers Arshad Ayub and Yousaf Ayub, can serve the Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf with dignity and freedom.
At Darkot, I realized that the people of KP are fortunate — they can still speak, still gather, still remain connected to their leaders. Yet the limits of this freedom become painfully clear the moment one travels just thirty-five kilometers to Rawalpindi. There, the air thickens with suffocation. There is no constitution, no law, no dignity, and no protection. This stark contradiction — an island of peace and liberty on one side, and a suffocating abyss of oppression on the other — is what corrodes us from within.
And how could I not mention Ali Muhammad Khan? To sit beside him is to sit in the company of an heir to noble lineage. His words bring courage, his character radiates honesty, and his presence transforms into a living inspiration. He is more than a politician; he embodies integrity and moral leadership. It was no surprise when, outside Adiala Jail, my dear friend Muzaffar Sheikh showed him my column addressed to the Chief Minister of KP. Ali Muhammad Khan smiled and said, “He is our leader, our senior, our companion. I know him well.” Those words filled me with a sense of peace that cannot be captured in language.
I remain grateful to Arshad Ayub who, at my request and that of my friends, announced the construction of a seven-kilometer road from Darkot to Nallah — a project that will change the lives of ordinary people. Ali Muhammad Khan too pledged to take up the matter with Chief Minister Gandapur to ensure that this dream becomes reality. Sitting beside me, Omar Ayub whispered, “It is done.” Such commitments remind us that politics is not mere rhetoric but a promise of service, rooted in the resolve to uplift communities.
Yet as I returned from Darkot to my home in Rawalpindi, an uneasy realization struck me. It felt as though I was leaving an island of freedom behind and entering a vast prison — the prison that is Rawalpindi, and by extension, all of Punjab. In KP, one can still breathe, still dream, still speak. But in Punjab, the walls of fear and repression close in, and every street whispers of captivity.
Omar Ayub was right when he said that KP remains an island of peace. These fleeting breaths of freedom assure us that not all light has been extinguished. But the question looms large: how long will this light endure? If justice continues to be strangled, if democracy continues to be murdered, if the people’s voice continues to be silenced, then even this island will be swallowed by darkness.
Maududi’s words still ring true — real freedom is found only in God’s servitude, and it is this freedom that grants dignity and honor to humankind. We must ask ourselves: have we honored the sacrifices of our forefathers? Have we built the Pakistan that Iqbal envisioned, the Pakistan for which Jinnah struggled? The answer is bitter, but hope remains alive.
In Darkot’s skies, one can still breathe the fragrance of freedom. Omar Ayub’s defiance still echoes. Ali Muhammad Khan’s honesty still endures. And the sacrifices of overseas Pakistanis still pulse with loyalty. All of these stand as witnesses that the lamps of Pakistan have not been extinguished — they have only grown dim. They must be rekindled. And the day will surely come when they will shine once more with full brilliance, spreading light across this nation.
That is my faith, my prayer, and my resolve.“This Democracy Day, let us ask ourselves whether the freedom we celebrate is real, or merely an illusion.”؟
