UXI MUFTI REVEALS UNTOLD EVOLUTION OF LOK TAMASHA, LOK MELA, LOK VIRSA

Mahtab Bashir

mahtabbashir@gmail.com

0333 53 63 248

ISLAMABAD

In the summer of 69, (quite different from Bryan Adam’s nostalgic hit), two men with tape recorders hanging on their shoulders, set out on a journey through Pakistan's dusty villages, far-flung towns, and underdeveloped cities, unaware they were about to stumble upon a treasure that would eventually reshape how a nation saw itself.

One was Samir Naguib, a folklore expert dispatched by UNESCO from Rome's prestigious Santa Cecilia Academy. The other was Dr. Uxi Mufti, a young academic freshly returned from completing his PhD from Prague, who had been assigned as Naguib’s local counterpart with a modest budget of just 5,000 rupees between them.

What followed was a tale so improbable that it reads like fiction, a story of bureaucratic betrayal, accidental television broadcasts, jealous colleagues, and one man's stubborn refusal to let Pakistan's cultural soul be buried in government archives.

This is the story of how Lok Virsa, Pakistan's National Institute of Folk and Traditional Heritage, came into existence, told in the words of its founder, Uxi Mufti, who for the first time reveals the complete, authentic history of its evolution.

Wandering scholars and the charge sheet

"Our mission was simple," Uxi Mufti recalls, his eyes still carrying the spark of adventure from those three transformative months in 1969. "Samir Naguib and I were to travel village to village, across the length and breadth of Pakistan, making sample recordings of 100 to 200 hours of folk music and traditions for UNESCO's archives."

Uxi Mufti with the scribe. A file photo

For three months, they crisscrossed the country, through the rugged terrain of Balochistan, the fertile plains of Punjab, the deserts of Sindh, and the mountain valleys of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. They recorded everything: the haunting melodies of Sindhi dhamal, the rhythmic beats of Balochi dhol, the poetic verses of Pashto tappa. In the process, they discovered something far more valuable than recordings, they unearthed 2,500 unknown artists, musicians, and performers who had never appeared on radio or television.

But upon their return, instead of celebration, they were met with bureaucratic hostility. The ministry's officers had changed, and a section officer demanded they account for every single penny of the 5,000 rupees. "Where did you disappear?" They were asked. "You have no phone number, no office; where should we write a letter to you?"

A charge sheet was prepared. The folklore band they had formed was disbanded. Both men were effectively dismissed.

"I was treated very badly," Dr. Mufti says, the sting of that injustice still audible in his voice decades later. "But looking back, that rejection was perhaps the greatest gift I ever received. It lit a fire in me that would not be extinguished."

The pilgrimage of a dream

Undeterred, Dr. Mufti created a comprehensive project for a Folklore and Folk Art Academy in Pakistan. What followed was a pilgrimage through the corridors of power, a journey that took him to the Ministry of Information, the Ministry of Education, the Foreign Office, the Council of Integration, and every federal secretary who would grant him an audience.

"No one listened to me," he remembers. "I was quite disheartened."

But the 2,500 artists he had discovered haunted him. Among them were names that would later become legends: Khamiso Khan, whose soulful renditions of Sindhi shah jo raag would captivate millions; Munir Balaidi, the master of Balochi folk instruments; Charlie Malang and Party, whose energetic performances embodied the spirit of Punjab; and Allan Faqir, whose Sufi-inspired music transcended boundaries.

"People knew them a little in their own areas," Mufti explains, "but at the national level, no one knew them. They had never appeared on radio or TV. Their voices were trapped in villages, their instruments unheard beyond the next valley."

It was then that Mufti had an audacious idea.

The tomato challenge and the accidental broadcast

Armed with nothing but conviction, Mufti approached Aslam Azhar, the General Manager of Pakistan Television (PTV). "I will give you a stage show," he declared.

Aslam Azhar, known for his pragmatic approach, was skeptical. "What will be in your stage show?" he asked.

"In my stage show, I will bring very unknown people, whom no one knows, onto the stage," Mufti replied.

Aslam Azhar leaned forward. "Uxi, will you eat tomatoes?"

This peculiar question referred to a common Urdu idiom meaning to face humiliation or failure. "Tomatoes? Where will you do this show?"

"In Liaquat Memorial Hall, Rawalpindi," Mufti answered confidently. "The seating of Liaquat Hall is 2,500," Aslam Azhar said. "Will you be able to fill this hall?" "I promise that I will show you the hall filled and will not eat tomatoes," Mufti replied.

Aslam Azhar proposed a test: "First, make a pilot project for me in the TV studio. We will watch it. If it gets approved in our General Manager board, then do the programme. Otherwise, you are out."

Mufti created a pilot called "Lok Tamasha" (The People's Spectacle), featuring Pakistan's best regional musicians and artists, Munir Sarhadi, Khamiso Khan, Charlie Malang and Party, and others. He left no artist undiscovered.

The project was presented to PTV's General Manager Conference, which included media heavyweights like Agha Nasir and Nisar Hussain and others. They watched the pilot and rejected it.

"It is not worth being aired on the elite Pakistan Television," they declared, dismissing it as too rustic, too provincial. All of Mufti's cassettes were thrown into the archives.

But fate had other plans.

In those days, about three-fourths of PTV's programmes came from abroad, American shows like Lucy Show and Dennis the Menace aired during prime time. One evening, the episode of Dennis the Menace that was scheduled for 7 PM never arrived. The flight carrying the tape was delayed.

"The transmission controller got worried," Mufti recounts with a smile. "He called the programme manager and asked what to do. The manager said, 'Check in the cupboards, see what is lying there, play it.'"

The controller opened a cupboard and found cassettes labeled "Lok Tamasha." Without any alternative, he played it.

"My show accidentally went on-air on the national hook-up," Mufti says, still marveling at the cosmic coincidence.

A people's television

When Lok Tamasha aired, Pakistan Television was flooded with letters and messages, from Dera Ghazi Khan, Dera Ismail Khan, Quetta, all of Balochistan, the interior of Sindh, Jacobabad, and Hyderabad.

"For the first time, we realised that this TV is also ours," people wrote. "Where was this programme before? Why wasn't it done before? We liked it a lot."

Aslam Azhar called Mufti immediately. "Mufti, do the show, man! Do it in Liaquat Memorial Hall!"

And so, Lok Tamasha was born. For nine consecutive years, Mufti produced a live programme every week from Liaquat Memorial Hall. It became a cultural phenomenon.

"There was only one TV," Mufti remembers. "When my show used to run, the streets would become deserted. Wherever I went, people would say, 'Oh... the Lok Tamasha guy has arrived.'"

The show's popularity reached such heights that when Mufti went to perform Umrah, people recognised him there too. "Look, the Lok Tamasha guy has arrived!" they would say. The programme had become so beloved that even after nine years, it was difficult to stop.

A complaint against Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Now famous, Dr. Uxi Mufti finally secured an audience with Abdul Hafeez Pirzada, the Education Minister. His celebrity status opened doors that had previously been slammed shut.

Pirzada listened carefully to Mufti's proposal for a Folklore and Folk Art Academy and sent him to meet Faiz Ahmed Faiz, the renowned poet and Chairman of the Pakistan National Council of the Arts (PNCA).

"When I met Faiz Sahab," Mufti recalls, "instead of asking for something, I complained to him. I said, 'Faiz Sahab, I have a complaint against you.'"

Faiz, who knew Mufti in two ways, as the host of Lok Tamasha and as the son of the celebrated writer Mumtaz Mufti, listened patiently.

"You made the Karachi Arts Council, the Alhamra Arts Council, now you made the Pakistan National Council of Arts with a film department, research and publication, visual and performing arts, theater," Mufti continued. "One thing you forgot every time."

"What is that?" Faiz asked. "Folklore department, Folklore research centre," Mufti replied.

Faiz responded, "Brother, who will do that?" "Sir, I will do it," Mufti declared, placing his entire proposal before him.

Faiz was a man who could spot talent easily. He immediately called his accountant and said, "Give him a job, Senior Executive PNCA, Director-in-Charge Folklore Research Centre."

"Mufti, what salary will you take?" Faiz asked. "Sir, I am taking 1,000 as salary. I have an intention to marry, so if you increase it by 200 rupees, I will come to you," Mufti replied. "Give him 1,200 rupees," Faiz ordered.

The jealousy and the 500-Rupee budget

But acceptance was not without its battles. The subordinates at PNCA were jealous of Uxi Mufti's appointment. "Who has arrived?" they sneered.

"They did everything to undermine me," Mufti says. "They stopped the budget of the Folklore Research Centre; they made my programme budget 500 rupees per month."

With such a paltry sum, nothing substantial could be done. But Mufti had a resource that money couldn't buy, his Lok Tamasha programme on TV. He continued bringing artists into folklore research, recording their performances, and slowly building an archive.

Soon, his office filled with the sounds of drums, instruments, dance, and music. "In my office, drums, instruments, dance, music, sounds started coming all the time," he recalls.

The PNCA people became even more jealous. "He is doing performing arts, not research work at all!" they complained. "Stop him!" But Mufti paid no attention.

The first Lok Mela and the resignation

Mufti approached Aslam Azhar again. "Lok Tamasha is done now," he said. "My intention is to organise a Lok Mela. Will you fund it?" "How much money do you need?" Aslam Azhar asked. "Give me 75,000 rupees, and I will organise a Lok Mela for you," Mufti replied.

And so, the first Lok Mela, "Artisan at Work Festival", was organised in the parking area of the Islamabad Club in 1986 or 1987.

When the festival was broadcast on Pakistan Television's national hook-up, Khalid Saeed Butt, who had replaced Faiz Ahmed Faiz as DG PNCA, made a strong complaint against Mufti. He went to Hafeez Pirzada's office and said, "Look at Mufti! He said he would make a Folklore Research Centre, and he is holding festivals with dancing and folk dancers from all over the country, all without my permission and your permission."

Hafeez Pirzada immediately called Mufti and ordered, "Stop all this, and come to my office."

Mufti neither stopped the festival nor went to his office. Instead, he wrote his resignation and went to Hafeez Pirzada's office that evening.

"Before you say anything to me, this is my resignation," Mufti declared. "If I, being the head of the folklore department, cannot even show folk dance, cannot even call regional artisans, then you don't need me. I am sorry, I am going back to television to work for them."

Hafeez Pirzada instantly changed his stance. "No, no, no... No Mufti, I am sorry, what do you want?" "Sir, I cannot survive with PNCA," Mufti replied. "If you want my services to continue and I keep doing this work, then you must create a National Folk and Traditional Heritage institution for me, separate from PNCA."

Pirzada agreed. "Call all the diplomats," he said. "I will launch this new idea."

Read Also: Lok Virsa: Striving for cultural resurgence

Birth of Lok Virsa

Thus, the National Institute of Folk and Traditional Heritage (NIFTH) was established. In the beginning, it was a small office in F-7/1 with a tiny museum.

"When it became a complete separate institution, I kept its local name 'Lok Virsa'," Mufti says proudly. "Many people objected because in those days, local names were not kept for government institutions. I was the first person who kept a local name for a government institution."

The name Lok Virsa, which translates to "The People's Heritage", became famous all over the country and the world. What started as a rejected tape recording expedition in 1969 had evolved into a national institution that preserved and celebrated Pakistan's rich cultural heritage.

"Lok Virsa's soul is in Lok Tamasha," Dr. Mufti reflects. "The people of Pakistan opened their hearts to this television programme, and then they opened their homes to the idea of preserving their heritage. 

Lok Tamasha was the call that awakened us, Lok Mela was the voice that carried the message, and Lok Virsa stands as the sacred sanctuary we raised with our shared hands.

Read Also: PAKISTAN MONUMENT: A THEMATIC MUSEUM

Epilogue: The voices that would not be silenced

Today, Lok Virsa stands as a living museum of Pakistan's diverse cultural traditions. The 2,500 artists Dr. Uxi Mufti discovered in 1969, the Khamiso Khans, the Munir Balaidis, the Charlie Malangs and Parties, found their voices on the national stage.

Their music, once confined to village gatherings, now reverberate through the corridors of Lok Virsa's museum in Islamabad.

Read Also: LOK VIRSA: FROM FOLK HERITAGE TO A NATIONAL CULTURAL INSTITUTION

The legacy of Uxi Mufti is a powerful reminder: when we listen to the unheard, we discover our own identity. His transformation, from a rejected officer to a celebrated visionary, from a shelved idea to a globally respected institution, proves that culture is not preserved in sterile archives. It lives in the dust of rural paths, in the songs of forgotten artists, and in the courage to carry tradition forward into an uncertain tomorrow.

"The evolution of Lok Virsa is a remarkable tale, Mahtab," Mufti declares with a knowing smile. "And what you have just heard is the complete, authentic history, never before told, and you are the first person I have chosen to entrust it to," he concludes.

The writer is an Islamabad-based journalist who puts ethics ahead of sycophancy.

A Resignation That Chose Conscience Over Comfort & Luxury

Mahtab Bashir
mahtabbashir@gmail.com
Islamabad

She could have clung to this powerful designation, as so many in both civilian and military circles in this part of the world often do, rather leave no stone unturned in seeking an extension.

She could have quietly slipped into an extended leave, with or without pay, secure in the certainty that such a lucrative position would always remain within reach.

She could have chosen comfort, privilege, and silence.
She could have devoted herself to building grand symbols of legacy and love, much like the monumental mausoleums of the Mughal era that history endlessly romanticises.

But, she chose something far rarer: dignity over attachment, principle over power, and conscience over convenience.

In doing so, she has delivered a profound and painful rebuttal to those clerics and commentators who tirelessly preach that the ‘Western system’ is hollow, fragile, and devoid of family values or moral courage. Her decision stands as a reminder that integrity is not confined to geography, religion, or culture, it is born from character.

Yes, many continue to criticise Director National Intelligence, Tulsi Gabbard for not resigning earlier, before or during the outbreak of the Israel–US–Iran conflict. 

That debate will continue in political circles and drawing rooms alike. But beyond politics, beyond timing, and beyond partisan arguments, this single page of resignation carries a moral weight that speeches, slogans, and carefully crafted narratives often fail to achieve.

This resignation letter is not merely an official document. It is a golden page of history, one that will be remembered for a very long time, not because it held power, but because it had the courage to walk away from it for a cause.

Some letters fade into archives. Others become part of history. It is a mirror held up to power, privilege, and conscience. Read it. Feel it. And absorb every word of it.

Get well really soon, Abraham!

Writer is Islamabad-based journalist who can be accessed at mahtabbashir@gmail.com

NPC Elections 2026-27: How Hubris, Internal Divisions, and a Demand for Accountability Ended the Journalist Panel’s 20-Year Dominance

The surprise outcome of the National Press Club Elections for 2026-2027 has not only busted the two-decade-long monopoly of the Journalist Panel but has also ushered in a strict mandate for deliverance for The Democrats. With the newly elected panel now holding both the presidency and secretary slots, the outcome signals a sharp departure from business as usual, and places the incoming leadership under strict pressure to deliver tangible reform within a one-year tenure.

ISLAMABAD: The annual elections at the National Press Club (NPC) have upended decades of political continuity within one of Pakistan’s most influential journalist bodies. The results brought a definitive end to the Journalist Panel’s long-running dominance, elevating the opposition Democrats Panel to the club’s top slots.

Journalists from Dunya News, while talking to this scribe, point to a convergence of structural failures, internal dysfunction, and shifting voter behaviour that collectively sealed the panel’s fate. Below is a critical examination of the key factors behind its defeat.

Internal Dissidence: A House Divided

The Journalist Panel’s collapse was accelerated from within. Long-simmering discontent among its own ranks, voiced by figures such as Haji Anwar Raza, Qurban Satti, and factions within the APP and Southern Punjab, shattered the appearance of unity. These internal fractures alienated core supporters and handed The Democrats a clear opening.

As Zafar Hashmi, chief reporter at Dunya News, noted, the Journalist Panel’s troubles were self-inflicted long before the first vote was cast. The panel’s presidential nomination was deeply controversial, with internal voices raising serious objections well ahead of election day, objections that were summarily dismissed by those at the helm. 

Rather than selecting a candidate capable of commanding broad-based support, the leadership doubled down on a choice that alienated key segments of their own voter base.

Even more damaging, Hashmi continued, was the handling of the secretary slot. In a glaring lapse of judgment, the position was handed to a novice, selected not on merit or strategic calculation but through the influence of a few members within the panel. This decision reflected a broader pathology: the prioritisation of factional favouritism over electoral viability. 

The secretary candidate was not only politically inexperienced but also ill-equipped to shoulder the organisational weight of a campaign already under strain.

Crucially, both decisions were symptomatic of a unilateral decision-making structure in which Afzal Butt exercised near-total control, sidelining group members and disregarding their input and feedback.

Key choices were made in isolation, without the benefit of collective deliberation or internal accountability. Dissenting voices, far from being integrated into strategy, were treated as obstacles to be managed rather than signals to be heeded.

The result was predictable. The panel entered the election fragmented, its internal divisions laid bare, and its leadership politically exposed. In the absence of institutional checks within the group, there was no mechanism to correct course, no room for recalibration. By the time the campaign officially began, the damage had already been done, and the electorate took note. 

According to the chief reporter Dunya News, Afzal Butt's choice to pit Abid Abbasi against Khawar Nawaz Raja for the position of finance secretary was a shrewd move, given that both belonged to Kashmir. Consequently, Abbasi's win and Raja's loss came as a surprise to many voters, myself included. Many had anticipated a clean sweep from the top-tier slot.

A Campaign of Complacency

Where previous elections saw the Journalist Panel deploy structured campaigns, this year’s effort was strikingly lacklustre. No clear manifesto was presented. Outreach remained minimal, and messaging offered little beyond vague rhetoric. Voters, accustomed to promises of continuity, were given no compelling reason to remain loyal.

This strategic vacuum allowed The Democrats to frame themselves as the only credible alternative, one backed by a clear reform agenda and a visible commitment to institutional accountability.

Overconfidence After Two Decades of Control

Twenty years of uninterrupted rule bred a fatal complacency. The panel assumed traditional loyalties would carry the day, neglecting grassroots engagement and dismissing early signs of voter discontent. This arrogance left them unprepared for an electorate increasingly willing to break with old allegiances. 

Accumulated Grievances: Years of Neglect Come Due

For nearly two decades, club members watched facilities decline, communication from leadership evaporate, and grievances accumulate without redress. Complaints about administrative neglect, elite capture, and detachment from rank-and-file journalists were routinely ignored. This reservoir of frustration made the electorate receptive to any opposition that promised accountability, a space The Democrats successfully occupied.

The Collapse of Panel-Based Voting

A fundamental shift in voting behaviour further undermined the Journalist Panel. For the first time in years, journalists cast ballots based on individual credibility rather than panel affiliation. Personal reputation, accessibility, and track record outweighed traditional loyalties.

As Aslam Lurka, Syed Qaisar Abbas Shah, Sohail Khan, and SM Zaman observed, this marked a clear departure from past voting patterns, one that directly benefited The Democrats, who fielded candidates with strong independent followings.

Scrutiny of the Voters List: A Level Playing Field

Administrative reform played a decisive role. Rigorous scrutiny of the electoral roll led to the removal of thousands of fake journalist entries, a long-standing mechanism that had historically inflated the Journalist Panel’s vote bank. With genuine voters now forming the electorate, the panel could no longer rely on manufactured majorities.

Dr. Zahid Awan, sports journalist and columnist for Dunya News, noted that the results reflected a direct backlash from legitimate voters against the previous regime’s promotion of fake voters.

Failure to Defend Journalists’ Rights

Perhaps most damaging was the Journalist Panel’s perceived failure to defend press freedom and journalist welfare during critical moments. Last year’s controversial police raid on the Press Club, during which law enforcement entered the premises without authorisation and assaulted journalists, became a watershed.

Many members viewed the panel’s response as tepid and insufficient, eroding trust in its ability to protect institutional autonomy.

This failure became a rallying point for The Democrats, who campaigned on a promise of assertive leadership in defending the club’s dignity and its members’ rights.

Unity as the Democrats’ Strategic Advantage

In contrast to previous opposition efforts, often fractured by individual ambitions, The Democrats forged a rare and disciplined coalition under the leadership of veteran journalists Tariq Usmani and Haji Nawaz Raza. This unity allowed them to present a cohesive alternative, channelling widespread dissatisfaction into a focused electoral challenge.

The Results: A Historic Shift

The Democrats secured key victories across major positions:

Position	Winner	Margin / Context
President	Abdul Razaq Sial	15 votes (against Nayyar Ali)
Secretary	Dr. Furqan Rao	Significant victory
Vice Presidents	Two slots secured	Strategic wins in competitive races

With approximately 2,200 votes polled, the presidential margin of just 15 votes underscores how tightly contested the election was, and how each factor above proved decisive in tipping the balance.

Turnout stood at 65 percent, a figure considered resilient given that the elections were held during Ramadan, with many journalists unable to vote due to unavoidable circumstances.

Broader Implications: Accountability Arrives at the Press Club

This election transcends a simple change of office-bearers. It signals:

·        A demand for accountability: Journalists expect their own institutions to model the transparency they advocate for in governance.

·         The end of dynastic complacency: Long-term dominance is no longer a guarantee of electoral success.

·         The power of institutional reform: Cleaning the voters’ list fundamentally altered the electoral landscape.

·         A shift toward merit: Voting based on individual capability has overtaken blind panel loyalty.

A Mandate, Not a Gift

The Democrats’ victory carries weighty expectations. Members who voted for change will now demand visible improvements in club facilities, governance, communication, and the institution’s role as a defender of press freedom. Whether this moment becomes a genuine turning point or merely a change of faces will depend entirely on the new leadership’s ability to deliver.

What remains beyond dispute is the message sent by Islamabad’s journalist community: after two decades of unfulfilled promises and institutional drift, accountability has finally arrived at the National Press Club.

Mahtab Bashir is an Islamabad-based journalist and can be reached at 0333 53 63 248

ISLAMABAD’S PRIDE: POPO FOOTBALL CLUB – WHERE LOCAL TALENT FINDS GLOBAL WINGS

KEY POINTS

• ‘Popo’: The moniker that evolved from university halls to football fields.
• Grassroots focus pays off as the club becomes a critical feeder for Pakistan U-19 and U-16 teams, instilling pride by seeing players don national colours.
• In 2022, a partnership with SKA Brasil sends two players and a coach to South America, offering life-changing global exposure unmatched by any other Pakistani club.
• Selected players receive world-class coaching, creating a nurturing environment where football dreams are built on a foundation of care. 

ISLAMABAD: In a country where cricket often drowns out the rhythm of other sports, a different kind of passion is being nurtured on the lush green fields of the federal capital.

In the world of football, where legends are born and legacies are built, there exists in Pakistan a club that stands unparalleled. It is a sanctuary for young, aspiring footballers, a place where the beautiful game is not just played but is lived with an unmatched fervour.

This is the story of Popo Football Club, a tale woven with threads of dedication, dreams, and the indomitable spirit of its founder.

A Labour of Love: More Than Just a Club

For the football-loving youth of Pakistan, the 21st century brought with it a new ray of hope. Nestled in the heart of Islamabad, the country's most beautiful city, lies POPO FC, a club that has become synonymous with exceptional, praiseworthy, and world-class training. It is a place where raw talent is chiselled into professional skill.

The respect for this institution is so profound that even rival clubs, in their own gatherings, sing praises of the remarkable work being done here. And the credit for this beacon of hope rests squarely on the shoulders of one man: a man of steel, known to the world as Haris bin Haroon, affectionately called Popo.

The Man Behind the Mission: From Lecturer to Mentor

The story of POPO FC is not one of corporate sponsorships or inherited wealth; it is a story of personal sacrifice and a deep-seated love for the game.

It began in 2012 with Haris bin Haroon, then a business lecturer at International Islamic University, Islamabad. It was here that his students, inspired by his teaching style, gave him the nickname 'Popo', a moniker that would one day become a symbol of footballing excellence in Pakistan.

What started as a small team participating in local Islamabad tournaments soon blossomed into a vision. Haroon saw beyond the makeshift goals and dusty grounds; he saw the potential in Pakistan's youth.

His vision was to create a formal academy, a home for young talent, leading to the official establishment of the POPO Football Club academy.

Nurturing Dreams, One Player at a Time

The true measure of POPO FC's success is not just in the trophies it holds, but in the hearts it has shaped.

The club’s primary focus has always been on grassroots development. This commitment bore fruit in 2019 when the club became a critical feeder for the national side, producing numerous outstanding players for both the Pakistan U-19 and U-16 teams as they prepared for the 2020 AFC Championship qualifiers.

The pride of seeing their boys don the national colours is a feeling that resonates deeply within the club's walls.

The professional debut in the 2020 PFF National Challenge Cup was a testimony to their youth-centric approach. They played with the fearless spirit of underdogs, securing a memorable 2-1 victory against Safe Tax in their very first match. Though they didn't advance past the group stage, they had made their mark, proving they belonged on the bigger stage.

A Dream Realised: The Brazilian Connection

For any footballer, playing in Brazil is a fantasy. For the young men at POPO FC, that fantasy became a breathtaking reality in 2022.

In a landmark partnership with Futebol Clube SKA Brasil, the club sent two of its finest, Waleed Khan and Muhammad Rizwan, along with coach Shehzad Anwar, to train and play with the Brazilian club's U-20 side.

It was a moment of profound validation, not just for the players, but for the entire POPO FC family, a tangible sign that their hard work was being recognised on a global scale. No other club in Pakistan has been able to offer its young talents such a life-changing opportunity.

The Heartbeat of the Academy: A Family Affair

Walk into a POPO FC training session, and you will witness a scene of pure, unadulterated passion. Coaches, trained in the club's own philosophy, work tirelessly side-by-side with their founder. They dedicate their body, mind, and soul ('tan, mann, dhan') to the boys.

For three hours every morning and evening, they don't just teach football; they mentor young men, sharing the intricate secrets and soul of the game.

The club’s commitment to its players goes beyond the pitch. Every year, trials are announced on social media, drawing the best talent from the four corners of the country.

The chosen few, aged between 16 and 23, are given a home. POPO FC covers all their expenses, accommodation, education, and food, so they can focus entirely on their dream.

This holistic, nurturing environment is the secret ingredient to the club’s success, a model of care and dedication that remains unmatched in Pakistan.

An Unmatched Legacy of Love and Labour

POPO Football Club is more than just a name; it is a movement. It is a testament to what can be achieved when one man’s passion ignites the dreams of many.

It is a story of Haris bin Haroon, the former lecturer who chose to invest in the future of Pakistan’s youth. His unique approach to preparing young talent for the world stage is an honor not just for him, but for the entire nation.

As the world watches the fruits of this labour unfold on international fields, one thing is clear: in the heart of Islamabad, a footballing revolution is being powered by love, dedication, and an unshakeable belief in the power of dreams.

All our love and support for POPO FC.

A LOVE'S ETERNAL SEAL: CRISTIANO RONALDO'S DEVOTED TRIBUTE TO GEORGINA ON HER BIRTHDAY

In a celebration that mirrored the warmth of their bond, Georgina Rodríguez’s 32nd birthday was adorned with tokens of deep affection and unwavering loyalty from her fiancé, a football star, Cristiano Ronaldo. The day transformed into a heartfelt sonnet, composed of cherished gifts and sincere devotion.

Marking her 32nd birthday, Portuguese legend pays a heartfelt tribute to Georgina Rodriguez

The most poignant symbol was a magnificent Rolex Lady-Datejust, a £45,000 emblem of timeless commitment. With a dial blooming in passionate red ombré, a bezel set with diamonds that sparkled like constant admiration, and a band of steadfast gold, the watch was presented in its iconic green box, a moment Georgina lovingly shared with the world.

Beside it, her stunning 30-carat engagement ring, a £2.6 million testament to eternal fidelity, shone brightly as their promise made tangible.

Cristiano, the epitome of a devoted partner, poured out his affection on social media with a tender photo from a candlelit embrace, captioned simply: “Happy birthday to the woman of my life!”,a public vow of the heart.

Their family, the very cornerstone of their shared life, infused the day with pure affection. The couple’s children presented a handmade pink sign declaring, “Happy Birthday Mama. Te Amo Mucho,” its innocent words a symbol of the love that surrounds her.

This new treasure will join Georgina’s collection, yet its true worth is sentimental, a lasting emblem of a chapter in a love story that began with a fateful meeting in 2016.

From that spark grew an unbreakable bond, a family, and a partnership built on mutual admiration and loyalty.

Cristiano once revealed the profound sincerity of their commitment, noting Georgina’s tears were not for the ring, but for the heartfelt emotion behind the proposal. Their engagement was sealed with Georgina’s own vow of eternal loyalty: “Yes I do. In this and all my lives.”

More than an exhibition of luxury, this birthday was a lavish, loving ode, a celebration of a devotion that is, in every sense, everlasting.

Mahtab Bashir is a journalist based in Islamabad, reachable at mahtabbashir@gmail.com or 0333 53 63 248.

IS YOUR RESEARCH ASSISTANT ACTUALLY SABOTAGING YOUR PAPER? THE HIDDEN RISK OF AI CHATBOTS

Mahtab Bashir

mahtabbashir@gmail.com

Islamabad

Experts from academia, tech, and policy have warned that the reflexive use of Artificial Intelligence (AI) chatbots is quietly undermining the integrity of research, cautioning that these tools, despite their utility, are propagating serious inaccuracies, encouraging intellectual complacency, and obscuring the path to trustworthy scholarship.

A recent UK survey underscores a seismic shift in higher education, revealing that a staggering 92% of students now regularly use generative AI tools, a dramatic surge from 66% just a year prior.

This integration into daily academic life presents a pressing question for researchers and institutions alike: is AI a transformative boon for scholarship or a fundamental threat to intellectual rigour?

In conversations with this scribe, a broad coalition of professionals, from educators and media figures to researchers, students, think tank officials, IT experts, and policymakers, shared a common fear. They worry that heavy reliance on AI-generated content could foster a generation skilled at compiling information but lacking the ability to analyse critically, synthesise concepts, or generate truly original ideas.

Dr. Tariq Banuri, former chairman Higher Education Commission Pakistan, an economist and expert on climate change, stated that while Artificial Intelligence (AI) is not new, the recent advent of Generative AI (GAI) tools marks a significant step toward human-like intelligence, or Artificial General Intelligence. 

He views this development as largely positive, though he acknowledges two categories of criticism: evaluative and apocalyptic.

Evaluative concerns, he explained, focus on the immediate difficulty of distinguishing between human creativity and machine-generated content. This poses challenges in areas like grading academic work or verifying digital evidence. His solution is to adapt our evaluation methods rather than reject the technology.

The apocalyptic criticism, while currently speculative, warns of a future where super-intelligent machines could surpass and endanger humanity, akin to dystopian science fiction. He noted this as a potential long-term issue but not an immediate reality.

Dr. Banuri described AI as a "stimulus technology" capable of boosting economic growth, productivity, and competitiveness. For Pakistan, he recommended two key policy responses: first, to stop disruptive internet shutdowns that drive businesses abroad, and second, to stimulate demand for GAI services, particularly in data generation and privacy.

While the private sector will naturally adopt GAI for efficiency, the government should modernise its own operations. Although some departments already use AI chatbots for drafting documents, resistance remains when it comes to enhancing transparency and reducing corruption, areas where Dr. TB urged proactive reform.

He emphasised that ethical guidelines for researchers, such as proper attribution of authorship, remain essential.

TORCH Global visiting Professor at the University of Oxford, UK, Dr. Fouzia Farooq, stated that acceptance of AI chatbots as research aids is essential for progress. 

She argued that instead of researchers exhausting effort to prove the originality of their work, they must acknowledge the reality of AI and focus on showcasing their unique intellectual contribution beyond automated outputs.

She noted that Pakistan’s Higher Education Commission (HEC) has integrated AI detection into its anti-plagiarism policy, which has instilled caution among researchers. While this sets a baseline, Dr. Farooq believes regulatory measures can only go so far. 

According to her, AI has revolutionised research methodologies, especially in fields like statistical analysis and data projection, but its integration into qualitative domains such as literature and art will take longer. The advent of AI, she said, has fundamentally shifted global research metrics, demanding an evolution in academic values and methods.

Dr. Farooq emphasised that with AI handling preliminary tasks, researchers should now focus on higher-order thinking and innovation. However, in societies like Pakistan, where research culture is underdeveloped, there is a risk of over-dependence, outsourcing entire projects to AI, which she called 'very wrong'.

Her advice was to 'make AI our slave, not our master', acknowledging that while AI offers significant benefits, it also poses a danger of encouraging intellectual laziness, particularly in work-shy communities. 

A key challenge, she highlighted, is learning how to frame meaningful questions and interpret AI-generated answers critically. If the entire question-and-answer cycle becomes AI-mediated, research could become “lifeless and without experience.”

Dr. Ilhan Niaz, a senior professor at Quaid-i-Azam University, Islamabad, warned that for university students, AI chatbots have become an "ultimate cheat code." 

He cautions that by allowing AI to generate assignments, leaving students to only "tweak" the output, we risk creating a generation that loses the fundamental skill of writing, a key activity for developing brainpower and critical thinking. This could trap students in a vicious cycle where reduced intellectual effort leads to greater dependence on AI, progressively diminishing human analytical ability.

For academics, he observed, AI can similarly serve as a convenient tool for aggregating information and producing text that is then presented as original work. He described a dystopian vision of the near-future university: a place where professors use AI to create lectures, and students use AI to complete assignments, resulting in a hollow educational experience.

While acknowledging AI’s legitimate and powerful applications, such as in medical diagnostics and processing astronomical data, Dr. Niaz described it as the 'lazy person’s dream come true' for everyday research and education. He raised concerns about the internet becoming flooded with indistinguishable AI-generated content.

His prescription is strict, sector-specific regulation. He argued that to prevent harm, AI use must be limited to fields where it demonstrably does more good than harm, such as medicine and data science, while being restricted in humanities disciplines like history and philosophy. He also called for formal "AI co-authorship" crediting mechanisms.

Dr. Niaz asserted that without treating AI as a carefully rationed public good aimed at collective well-being, sustainable and effective governance of the technology will be impossible. He noted that Pakistan's Higher Education Commission (HEC) faces a significant challenge, as the current educational model is ill-equipped to adapt to AI's disruptive presence.

A faculty member of IT department of Jazan University, Saudi Arabia, Muhammad Humza Farooq, explained that because AI tools are now hard to spot and control, many universities are stopping the use of take-home essays. Instead, some are bringing back oral exams, where students have to talk through and defend their ideas right then and there.

The reason is straightforward: AI can write neat essays, but it can’t answer unexpected follow-up questions or show it really understands a topic when put on the spot. With an oral exam, it’s much tougher for students to use outside help.

Humza also points out that AI-detection software has proven unreliable, sometimes flagging original student work incorrectly. Face-to-face assessment removes this uncertainty by focusing on direct interaction.

Beyond academic integrity, supporters argue this method builds essential real-world skills, such as clear communication, critical thinking, and the ability to explain complex ideas on the spot.

Dr. Munawar Hussain, an expert in international relations and social media, noted that AI has introduced a degree of laziness into today's student population. In the past, students dedicated significant effort to tasks like reading books, analysing research papers, conducting interviews, and performing content analysis. Today, similar information is accessible with just one click.

He recognised the advantages: AI saves both time and money for many, minimising the need for extensive manual research. 

However, Dr. Hussain highlights serious downsides. Primarily, the essential ability to work directly with raw data, verify facts, and discern patterns is being eroded. Secondly, researchers are growing less capable of producing original analysis, relying too heavily on AI-generated interpretations. Lastly, although AI is useful for brainstorming early research ideas, excessive dependence on it curbs independent thinking.

Dr. Hussain summarised AI's influence as a "mixed bag", offering clear efficiencies while posing significant threats to the cultivation of critical and analytical skills.

Saima Faheem, a researcher at Vrije Universiteit Brussel, Belgium, warns that a significant yet overlooked risk of using AI chatbots in research is cognitive rather than factual.

She explained that the quick, confident answers they provide can erode essential research habits, such as verifying sources, questioning assumptions, and tolerating uncertainty, by making inquiry feel deceptively smooth.

The core danger, Faheem noted, is not just AI errors, but the user’s declining vigilance in detecting them. She emphasised that AI chatbot remains valuable only when it critically supports, rather than replaces, human judgment.

A postdoctoral researcher at Vrije Universiteit Brussel, Belgium, Dr. Faheem Siddiqui, argued that AI is fundamentally reshaping academic research. He believes that while the technology presents a mix of advantages and disadvantages, the overall benefits are greater.

He pointed to two primary ways academics can use AI effectively. First, by automating repetitive tasks to boost productivity and free up time for more complex, intellectually demanding work. Second, he highlighted the importance of understanding that AI tools are trained on existing data and can be prone to providing biased or user-pleasing answers. 

Mastering 'prompt engineering', the skill of crafting precise inputs, is therefore crucial for obtaining objective and useful results from these chatbots.

Siddiqui offered clear guidance for responsible use: researchers should utilise AI as an aid in their work and publications, but they must maintain ultimate responsibility for their final output. 

He warned against using AI in the peer review process, arguing that removing the essential human judgement from evaluating new research could be detrimental to scientific progress in the long term.

Muhammad Usman Farooq, an Islamabad-based Information Technology expert, characterised AI as an 'indispensable research assistant' for academics. For students and junior researchers, it functions as a 'tireless, instant co-pilot', streamlining tasks like literature reviews, paper summarisation, coding, and idea generation, thereby accelerating workflows and clarifying complex subjects.

However, this efficiency is not without significant pitfalls. Farooq pointed to AI's capacity to 'fantasise', generating plausible yet entirely fabricated citations and information, which jeopardises the integrity of academic work. 

He further cautions that excessive dependence on AI risks corroding the profound analytical reasoning that is the hallmark of genuine scholarship, potentially yielding results that are 'superficially competent but intellectually hollow.'

A media practitioner and expert on governance, AI, and security, Dr. Saeed Minhas Ahmed,  acknowledged that AI has dramatically increased research speed, enabling faster literature reviews, data synthesis, and methodological testing, while boosting overall productivity.

However, he warned that without proper oversight, its unchecked use threatens to produce superficial research, standardised thinking, and degrade critical analysis. The core problem, he argues, is not AI, but the lack of accountability in how it is used. 

For society to truly benefit, regulatory bodies, like Pakistan’s Higher Education Commission (HEC), must set strict standards for quality, transparency, and intellectual ownership, similar to existing plagiarism policies.

He emphasised that AI must serve strictly as an assistant in scholarly work, not as a replacement for human judgement. Institutions should implement clear policies requiring the disclosure of AI use, limiting its role to technical tasks like language editing or data organisation, and strictly prohibiting AI from constructing arguments or generating theories without human verification.

The HEC, he suggested, could take a leading role by developing AI-audit systems, training reviewers to identify AI-generated content, and embedding ethical guidelines into research assessment.

Dr. Minhas advocated for a hybrid scholarly model, where human researchers lead theoretical development, fieldwork, and critical interpretation, supported by AI for efficiency and scalability. 

He insists that peer review, archival rigour, and methodological integrity must remain human-centred processes, with AI acting only as a tool to augment, not replace, research skill. This balanced approach, he said, maintains intellectual depth while adapting to new technologies.

Experts agreed AI is a transformative but double-edged tool for research. Its benefit depends entirely on human oversight. Moving forward, researchers must master this new skill, approaching AI with both excitement and sharp scrutiny, balancing its power with indispensable human judgement.

The writer is a journalist based in Islamabad and holds an MPhil in International Relations from Quaid-i-Azam University.