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A Society That Forgot How to Celebrate
Is there a society where smiling is a crime? Where laughter must be stifled and joy viewed with suspicion? Unfortunately, this describes modern Pakistan—a nation that has transformed from a land of vibrant celebrations into one where gloom has become our default setting.
We weren’t always like this. The question haunts me: what happened to us?
When Punjab Knew How to Celebrate
I grew up in Punjab during an era when spring brought more than just flowers—it brought magic. In Kharyan, where I spent my early years on Gulyana Road near the cantonment, annual festivals transformed our streets into wonderlands. The legendary Bali Jatti and Alam Lohar would perform their theater. The Wall of Death motorcycle stunt show and Lucky Irani Circus drew crowds from across Gujrat district. Food stalls lined both sides of the road, their aromas mixing with the excitement in the air.
People waited all year for these festivals. Even the mullahs and madrassa students came to watch. Parents held their children’s hands as they wandered through the festivities, everyone dancing to the rhythm of the dhol drums. I watched the entire city fly kites throughout February, March, and April—the skies alive with color and competition. Boys ran through streets collecting fallen kites, their shouts of triumph echoing through neighborhoods.
Those were the days of dog races, wrestling matches, football and hockey games. We celebrated by throwing colors and water on each other. Communities organized mango, orange, watermelon, and berry-eating competitions. Twenty-day cycling exhibitions wound through towns. There were community feasts of haleem, communal iftars announced by drums, and street performances with dancing bears and monkeys.
But then something dark descended. The evil eye fell upon this nation, and we transformed into an abnormal society where weeping, hatred, contempt, and violence became our primary activities.
A Brief Window of Light
During General Pervez Musharraf’s era, there was an attempt to open up society again. Lahore’s world-famous Basant festival returned. But when Musharraf left, so did these precious traditions. We wasted the next 18 years wallowing in misery.
Then, finally, Maryam Nawaz revived Basant this year. After such a long drought, I witnessed people genuinely happy again. Visitors poured in from around the world. Twenty-three flights came from Karachi alone, filled with people coming just to celebrate Basant. 1.5 billion rupees worth of kite string and kites were sold. Lahore’s hotels ran out of rooms; even guesthouses and paying guest houses were completely booked.
Yes, the Islamabad suicide attack cast a shadow over the festivities. But despite that tragedy, Basant happened. It gave our parched people a moment of joy—and in an atmosphere thick with sadness, hatred, and violence, that moment was worth everything.
A Plea to Our Government: Give Us Back Our Celebrations
I have a humble request for our federal and provincial governments: please issue a national festival calendar for all of Pakistan.
The possibilities are endless:
Coastal Celebrations: From Karachi to Gwadar, dozens of seaside locations could host beach festivals and water sports events.
Urban Festivals: Karachi, our largest city, could host numerous cultural celebrations and activities throughout the year.
Religious Heritage: The shrines of our saints once hosted vibrant melas (fairs). They still do, but their glory has faded. Revive them with proper planning and safety.
Archaeological Wonders: Celebrate Mohenjo-daro and Harappa Day—invite people from across Pakistan to connect with our ancient civilization.
Regional Richness:
– Sukkur could host cultural festivals
– The Cholistan Desert Rally could expand beyond just cars
– Lahore’s Basant could grow even bigger
– Rawalpindi could showcase Pothohar region fairs
– Khyber Pakhtunkhwa has everything from the Shandur Polo Festival to Khattak Dance performances
– Taxila could celebrate Buddhist heritage
– The northern areas have their own magnificent festivals
– Chitral’s festivals once attracted visitors from around the world
– Balochi culture bursts with color and tradition
– Kashmiri cuisine and celebrations have their own unique flavor
What harm is there in celebration? Why has mourning become our national sport? Why do we insist on pushing people into their homes, away from joy and community?
The World Celebrates—Why Can’t We?
We’re not unique. People across the world live full lives and unite their nations through festivals:
– Spain has its tomato-throwing La Tomatina and the running of the bulls
– Argentina, despite economic crisis, hosts more activities than almost anywhere
– Cuba, where people queue for rations, still celebrates constantly
– Brazil, Chile, Colombia, and Venezuela’s carnivals draw millions from around the world
– Manchester leads the world in cultural and entertainment activities
– Central Asian countries celebrate Nowruz with fifteen-day holidays
– China has dozens of festivals celebrated by 1.5 billion people
– India’s religious festivals have become cultural celebrations that attract global tourism
And here we are—unable to tolerate even Basant, attacked by the enemies of happiness.
Fear God, Not Joy
Life is not meant to be torture, and Earth is not hell. Expand your hearts and let people breathe the air of happiness.
A Final Warning to Punjab Government
You’ve started the Basant tradition again—please keep it going. Don’t let next year bring another ban. Don’t send police to raid and arrest kite flyers again. If there’s one area where Pakistan should show policy continuity, let it be in allowing people to celebrate Basant.
The lesson is simple: Normal societies want their people to be happy, so they create small festivals and celebrations. We’ve become an abnormal society where happiness, laughter, and even smiling are treated as crimes.
We need to remember: happiness lives in small festivals, and people in every corner of the world search for it in these celebrations. It’s time Pakistan joined them again.