Let me be candid. I am not against Basant. I am not against celebrations of any kind. Especially not in a country that survives more crises than carnivals and has very little to genuinely smile about. Basant is not a random party trick. It is legacy. It is history. It is culture with deep roots. The origins of Basant go back centuries and are woven tightly into the cultural fabric of Punjab, a region that transcends the India Pakistan border. The word “Basant” comes from the Sanskrit “Vasant,” meaning spring, symbolizing the transition from a brutal winter to renewal, color, and life. Traditionally, Basant has been celebrated across Punjab, in both India and Pakistan, and among the Punjabi diaspora worldwide. Its earliest roots are agrarian, marking the seasonal shift that farmers depended on for survival. Over time, it took on religious and spiritual dimensions. For Hindus, it is dedicated to Goddess Saraswati, the deity of knowledge, wisdom, and the arts. Devotees seek her blessings for intellect and skill. The festival is also observed at Sufi shrines and acknowledged by Sikh communities. In short, its significance is sacred, layered, and undeniably beautiful. So no, the problem is not Basant.
The problem is context. This year, Basant didn’t just bring kites and color. It raised uncomfortable questions that deserve board-level scrutiny, not social media deflection. First, was this genuinely a strategic move or merely a well-timed distraction. Because optics matter, and timing speaks louder than anything that media says or portrays. Second, if the state had the capacity to mobilize funds, security, logistics, and administrative energy for large-scale celebrations, then why has it consistently failed to deliver the same efficiency for relief and rehabilitation of victims who actually need it. If funds existed here, why were they invisible there. When floods displaced families, relief packages in some areas translated into a bag with a juice box and a packet of chips. Optics were managed. Photographs were taken. Boxes were ticked. Impact remained questionable (how funny is that??). So the obvious question arises friends. If resources are perennially constrained when people need rebuilding, rehabilitation, shelter, dignity, then how do they suddenly become abundant when cities need decorating and skies need color. Is cultural celebration important. Absolutely. But is timing a leadership competency. Also absolutely.
In the middle of the music, the rooftops, the bright fabric of nostalgia, another reality unfolded. A terrorist attack at an imambargah in Islamabad. Roughly a three-hour drive from where the festival energy was at full throttle. Some people stopped. They offered prayers for the martyred, paused their celebrations, acknowledged the lives lost. Because why not? More than 230+ families were affected. Others kept dancing, kept flying kites, kept uploading reels as if grief was happening in another universe. Same day. Same ummah. Two completely different reflections of who we are. And this is where the discomfort turns inward.
We ask why those in power seem detached. We question why decision makers appear insensitive. Yet are we aligned ourselves. Are we clear about what deserves immediate attention and what can wait. Because a nation’s leadership is not created in isolation. It is a mirror. If empathy is optional for the public, why would it be mandatory for the state.
Are we capable of holding joy and responsibility at the same time. Or do we only activate compassion when it is convenient and photogenic. What framework determines urgency. Who decides which pain is press conference worthy and which one is background noise. If citizens can momentarily pause festivities out of respect, why does institutional machinery struggle to demonstrate the same emotional intelligence. And before we point all fingers upward, here is the uncomfortable audit. When tragedy strikes somewhere else, do we stop scrolling. Do we demand better allocation of resources. Do we challenge symbolism over substance. Or do we consume, post, celebrate, and then log in later to criticize the very culture we helped normalize. Are our expectations from the government higher than the standards we practice ourselves. If humanity is negotiable for us, on what basis do we demand it to be non-negotiable for them. Who sets the national priority list. The rulers. The public. Or the silence in between?! This is a genuine question.
And most importantly, what would it take for us to finally align celebration with conscience. Because until that alignment happens, are we really surprised by anything we see.
