For me, travel has never merely meant moving from one place to another. It has always been a way of understanding people, cultures, ideas, and identities. Perhaps that is why, when I was in eighth grade and first encountered Mustansar Hussain Tarar’s famous travelogue Pascal, something restless awakened within me, a desire not only to see the world, but to understand it, and in the process, understand myself.
From that moment onward, books and travel writing became the beginning of a lifelong journey. Through travel, I learned to observe people, societies, and experiences with greater depth and awareness.
Because of my father’s postings to Iraq and later to the United States, travel entered my life early. I would not claim to have seen half the world at a young age, but I can say with certainty that traveling from an early age taught me one profound truth: no matter how far a person goes, their identity remains rooted in their soil, their language, their people, and their homeland.
Over the years, I have traveled through the Gulf countries, Europe, the United States, and Canada, meeting countless overseas Pakistanis along the way. Some were relatives, others business associates, political acquaintances, fellow travelers, or members of trade delegations through Chambers of Commerce. Yet despite their different professions, lifestyles, and circumstances, one thing always united them, their love for Pakistan.
Pakistanis living abroad carry an emotional bond with their homeland that is difficult to explain to outsiders. No matter which corner of the world we live in, regardless of the currency in our wallets or the stamps on our passports, somewhere deep within us Pakistan continues to beat in our hearts.
I still remember the atmosphere during India–Pakistan cricket matches in the Gulf. No matter how close our friendships with Indians were, sharing neighborhoods, meals, and everyday life, match day awakened something instinctive within us. If Pakistan lost, hearts sank. If Pakistan won, joy spread everywhere. Many times, we would walk straight to Indian grocery stores to buy sweets proudly saying, “Today Pakistan has won.” That natural attachment is the true strength of nations.
But in recent years, something has changed.
I have observed, with growing concern, that among overseas Pakistanis our shared identity is beginning to weaken. Political affiliations have become so intense that Pakistan itself often appears divided into camps rather than existing as a common homeland.
Differences of opinion are natural in every healthy society. Debate, criticism, and demands for reform are signs of political awareness. But when disagreement transforms into hatred, and when we begin humiliating our own country before the outside world, it becomes deeply troubling.
I experienced this personally during a gathering in Italy. Sitting among people of various nationalities, I listened as some Pakistanis spoke with extraordinary harshness about their own country. More painful than their words were the smiles appearing on the faces of certain Indians present there. In that moment, a difficult question crossed my mind: what has happened to us?
When we demean our country before others, we unknowingly strengthen the narratives of those who wish to see Pakistan weak.
Criticize if you must. Demand accountability. Raise your voice for change. But do not do so at the cost of weakening your national identity.
It was in moments like these that the idea of “Identity Pakistan” became clear to me.
Perhaps we need to remind ourselves that our identity is not political parties, our identity is Pakistan. Our identity lies in the sacrifices made in 1947. It lives in the green crescent flag that instantly connects strangers at airports across the world. It exists in our accents, our prayers, the call to prayer, our hospitality, and the shared warmth that makes Pakistanis recognize one another no matter where they are.
What saddens me most is that this division is no longer limited to opinions; it is damaging relationships themselves. I have seen overseas Pakistani families divided over politics. Friendships have ended. Bonds that once existed simply because we were “Pakistanis” have grown weaker.
And yet, despite everything, the love for Pakistan still exists. The pain for Pakistan still exists. It has simply become buried beneath anger, polarization, and constant political tension.
This is not merely an emotional issue; it is also a social and economic concern. Overseas Pakistanis remain one of the country’s greatest strengths. Their remittances, investments, international influence, and future generations are deeply connected to Pakistan’s future. If those future generations lose their emotional connection to their roots, the consequences may extend far beyond culture alone.
That is why I believe the time has come to move beyond grand conferences and ceremonial speeches and begin reaching ordinary Pakistanis directly. Travel bloggers, vloggers, students, business delegations, tour operators, anyone representing Pakistan abroad, should carry not only awareness, but responsibility.
The moment we step outside Pakistan, we represent more than ourselves; we represent the country itself.
We must learn how to disagree with systems while still preserving love for the homeland, through dignity, wisdom, awareness, and constructive dialogue.
“Identity Pakistan” should not remain merely a slogan. It should become a feeling, a consciousness that reminds us who we truly are. A feeling that runs through our veins and reminds us that no matter where life takes us, our roots remain connected to this land.
For the sake of future generations, we must preserve this connection. Just as the soul requires constant renewal, national identity too must be nurtured and protected.
Because if we lose that identity, future generations may remain Pakistani only in language and name, not in spirit. (The author is: Executive Member at Islamabad Chamber of Commerce and Industry)
