While an American hawk spreads his wings to shield taxpayers’ dollars, Pakistan’s oligarchic vultures continue circling the public treasury.
“Bacha! Have you ever wondered why, despite travelling through Manhattan, Paris, Dubai, Cairo and countless other places, you still return to this little rooftop studio apartment in F-10?”
Years ago, “BaBaTal” [The Bell-man] asked me this question as we stood beneath an Islamabad moon, the Margalla Hills resting quietly beyond the city lights.
Before I could answer, he tapped his brass-belled staff upon the concrete roof.
“Bacha! It is your egalitarian soul. Your Rooh-e-Shaheen. You are not a bird, otherwise you would have built your nest upon the highest mountain peak. Since nature denied you wings, you settled for the next best thing — a rooftop. From here you can still look toward the mountains and imagine you belong among them.”
I laughed then.
Today, sitting in the same rooftop nest, I find myself thinking he may have been right.
Outside, evening shadows are descending upon the Margallas. Down below, traffic crawls through F-10 Markaz. My faithful mustard-coloured Foxy — the old Volkswagen companion that has carried me through years of journeys and stories — rests in its usual corner.
Several sheets of paper are scattered across my desk.
One contains the text of a bill passed by the upper house of Pakistan’s Parliament extending benefits and privileges to former Chairmen of the Senate long after retirement.
Another carries a sentence from across the Atlantic.
Just six words.
“Not a dime of taxpayers’ money.”
The words belong to Senator Lindsey Graham.
I disagree with much of Senator Graham’s politics. I disagree with much of his hawkish worldview. Yet when a politician rises to defend the taxpayer’s pocket, credit must be given where it is due.
I was still contemplating the contrast between the two papers when I heard it.
First the fragrance.
Then the familiar chiming of brass bells floating through the evening air.
“BaBaTal!”
He glanced at the Senate bill. Then at Graham’s statement.
A smile appeared beneath his white beard.
“Bacha! Why is it that republics always find money for rulers but never enough for citizens?”
His question lingered in the air.
And while Senator Graham was busy guarding the American taxpayer from questionable foreign commitments, Pakistan’s taxpayers received a reminder of their own predicament. Almost simultaneously, legislation emerged granting continuing privileges and facilities to former office holders after retirement.
One does not need to oppose the dignity of public office to ask a simple question: who pays? The answer, as always, is the citizen.
The shopkeeper pays. The farmer pays. The salaried employee pays. The overseas Pakistani sending remittances pays. The taxpayer always pays.
That is why Graham’s declaration struck such a powerful chord. Across the world, a hawkish American senator was effectively saying something ordinary Pakistanis have been shouting for years: public money is not private inheritance.
The contrast is impossible to ignore.
In Washington, politicians routinely compete over who can better justify spending taxpayer money. In Islamabad, too many among the ruling elite behave as though the state treasury is a family estate.
One system may be noisy, divided and imperfect, but it periodically hears the taxpayer’s voice. Ours too often hears only the whispers of privilege.
The issue is larger than a single bill. The bill merely illuminates a deeper culture. Across decades, Pakistan has developed a habit of socializing costs while privatizing privileges. Losses belong to the public. Benefits belong to the connected. Sacrifice is demanded from citizens. Comfort is reserved for office holders.
Every budget asks the people for patience. Every new tax asks for understanding. Yet when the time comes to trim elite privileges, reform suddenly becomes impossible.
A republic cannot survive indefinitely on such a formula. Citizens may tolerate poverty. They may endure inflation. They may even accept hardship in the national interest. But eventually they begin asking a dangerous question: if there is never enough money for schools, hospitals and clean water, why is there always enough money for the ruling class?
The Holy Qur’an provides a timeless principle:
“Indeed, Allah commands you to render trusts to whom they are due.” (4:58)
The treasury is an amanah. Not a possession. Not a reward. Not an inheritance.
Another verse warns:
“And do not consume one another’s wealth unjustly.” (2:188)
BaBaTal gently tapped his staff.
“Amanah, Bacha. Every rupee collected from citizens is an amanah.”
The Holy Prophet Muhammad (peace and Blessings be upon him) taught:
“Each of you is a shepherd and each of you is responsible for his flock.”
Public office is therefore not merely authority. It is accountability.
Even Shakespeare understood the principle centuries ago:
“What is the city but the people?”
Indeed.
Without citizens there is no treasury. Without taxpayers there is no state. Without trust there is no republic.
Perhaps that is why, despite my disagreements with Lindsey Graham on many issues, I found myself applauding one sentence.
Not a dime.
Three simple words.
Three words that should echo through every ministry, every legislature, every state corporation and every public office in Pakistan.
Not a dime for waste. Not a dime for cronyism. Not a dime for oligarchic privilege. Not a dime for those who treat public office as a lifelong entitlement. Not a dime that cannot be justified before the citizen who earned it.
The American hawk was defending American taxpayers. Fine. Let him.
My concern is closer to home.
I am not asking Washington to protect Pakistan’s money. I am asking Pakistan’s rulers to do it.
BaBaTal turned toward the darkening Margallas. The bells upon his robe chimed softly.
Then came his final whisper.
“Bacha! Nations rarely collapse because they lack wealth. More often they collapse because too many hands begin treating the public purse as private inheritance.”
A moment later he was gone.
Only the bells remained.
And on my desk, the two papers still lay side by side.
One promising privileges. The other demanding accountability.
Between them stands the citizen. Between them stands the future of the republic.
ٹیکس دینے والوں کا ایک دھیلہ بھی ضائع نہیں ہونا چاہیے
Not a single penny of taxpayers’ hard-earned money should be wasted. ۔
That is not merely a slogan. It is the first commandment of honest governance.
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