The Sanctity of the Pen and the Locked Bags of Expediency

By: Malik Khalid Zameer

History bears witness that whenever the destiny of nations was written, the ink was drawn from the pen of knowledge. Societies that made education their top priority touched the heights of evolution, while those that let the lamps of knowledge flicker out became prey to darkness in the ruthless waves of time.

It is a painful reality that in our country, whenever a political, economic, or administrative crisis arises, the first door to be locked is that of the school.

It seems as if the easiest solution to every problem is assumed to be the suspension of the educational process, sacrificing the dreams of our youth to forced holidays.

The recent decision by the governments of Punjab and Balochistan to close private educational institutions has once again raised the question: why is education not among our priorities? Can the future of a nation truly be suspended by a few lifeless sentences in a notification?

​The Philosopher of the East, Allama Iqbal, perhaps spoke of the sensitivity of such moments when he said:

افراد کے ہاتھوں میں ہے اقوام کی تقدیر
ہر فرد ہے ملت کے مقدر کا ستارہ

​If every child of ours is truly a star, then why is the brilliance of these stars being dimmed by the dust of administrative decisions?

The argument of fuel saving behind the government’s recent decision appears attractive and logical on the surface, but looking deeper through the lens of wisdom, a storm of questions arises. Will closing schools truly cause the significant reduction in petrol consumption being claimed?

The reality is that school vans take to the road at specific times, remain stationary after dropping off children, and return only at dismissal. As a result of this educational suspension, these drivers and vehicle owners will be forced to roam the streets all day seeking alternative livelihoods to save their own economy, which will increase fuel waste instead of savings.

​Another painful aspect of this decision is one that those in power have perhaps not even bothered to consider. While the government has issued instructions to continue online classes, our ground realities are entirely different.

Most students in Pakistan belong to small towns and villages where internet facilities are almost nonexistent. Many homes do not even have a smartphone, and where one exists, bearing the burden of a permanent internet package is beyond the reach of poor parents.

In such circumstances, online education becomes a mirage, something that can be seen but not lived. The slogan of digital education is merely a joke for areas where the coming and going of electricity is nothing short of a miracle.

​The most negative impact of this situation falls on those matriculation students whose board exams are scheduled to begin on March 30th. These are the students who worked hard all year, sacrificed their sleep, and kept the dreams of their future in their eyes. Now, during these decisive days of preparation, completely closing classes is the ultimate injustice to them.

​In the current situation, it seems reasonable to request the provincial administration and relevant authorities: What is the justification for stopping the educational process in schools located in small villages or congested neighborhoods where children can easily arrive on foot, by bicycle, or motorbike? Where there is neither traffic pressure nor a major fuel issue, why stop them? Are we dreaming of economic savings by intellectually paralyzing our future generations?

Educational Institutions in Sindh to Remain Closed on March 11 for Youm-e-Ali

​The actual truth is that stopping education is not a solution to problems, but the foundation of a new and serious problem. There are many countries in the world where schools are kept open even in the worst conditions because they know that if the educational continuity is broken once, its effects will be felt for centuries.

If saving resources is the goal, the rulers should reduce their unnecessary protocols and royal expenses, rather than putting locks on children’s school bags.

​Finally, seeing the sensitivity of the situation, it seems necessary to present a logical suggestion. Since holidays have become so common in our beloved country, sometimes due to weather, sometimes political needs, and sometimes economic expediency, the government should not even bother issuing an educational calendar anymore.

The situation now is such that during the twelve months of the year, holidays descend so frequently that days for studying cannot be found, even if searched for.

​It would be better if the government only announced those few specific days when schools are accidentally supposed to remain open; the rest of the year is already dedicated to official holidays.

When studying has become merely a part-time hobby, why bother the nation with a full-year calendar? Just tell us those few days when the forced exile of school bags is to end, so that parents and students remember that the column for education hasn’t gone empty this year.

​We must decide that if we want to see a bright future for this nation, the doors of schools must always remain open. Where the lamps of knowledge burn, the morning arrives; and where school doors are closed, ignorance and backwardness take root.

Nations are built not by long holidays, but by the training and intellectual continuity that happens within the classroom. It is hoped that those in power will realize this intellectual tragedy and restore the true dignity of education by releasing it from the prison of holidays

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