Homesickness, financial pressure, and sacrifices that rarely get recognized drive thousands of young Pakistanis abroad — not for luxury, but for survival.

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Another day begins with the same old routine — the sharp ring of a mobile alarm echoing through a small, rented room thousands of miles away from home. The day starts early, not because one wants to, but because one must. Some mornings are heavier than others. The heart aches for the scent of home, the familiar voices at breakfast, the laughter that once filled the courtyard. Homesickness is not just missing a place — it is missing a piece of yourself that you had to leave behind to survive.

Many learn to hide it behind tired smiles, but some quietly break under its weight.

Yet, these men — the sons, fathers, and brothers of Pakistan — keep standing tall. They rise each day to face long hours, harsh weather, and endless distance, carrying the silent hope that their sacrifice will make life a little easier for the family waiting back home. They are rarely celebrated, but they are heroes — the kind who build a country’s future with their sweat, not their words. Their hard-earned money keeps homes running, children studying, and families fed. The remittances they send are the

lifeline of Pakistan’s economy, yet their names are seldom remembered.

Back home, many young people still waiting for their turn to go abroad think life in Saudi Arabia, Dubai, or Qatar is a paradise — that jobs and luxury await as soon as they land. They do not see the reality behind those filtered social-media posts: the long nights of loneliness, the small, cramped rooms, the quiet dinners alone after twelve-hour shifts. They do not know the psychological and financial storms that follow once the excitement fades.

But before reaching that point, the struggle begins at home. To chase the hope of a better life, one must first gather the strength — and the money — to leave. Most borrow from relatives or sell the few valuables they own to afford the basics: passport, medical tests, protector fees, visa, and ticket

— costing around PKR 700,000. Then comes the second step: setting aside at least PKR 400,000 for food, accommodation, and daily expenses until the first salary arrives. In total, nearly PKR 1.1 million is needed just to take the first step toward that uncertain future.

Why are so many forced into this decision? Because life in Pakistan’s middle class has become a battle of numbers. The national unemployment rate stands near 6.3%, with 4.5 million people jobless. Among youth aged 15 to 24, unemployment is about 11%, and even those between 25 and 34 face around 7% joblessness. A middle-class family spends roughly PKR 30,000 each month on

electricity, gas, and basic utilities — while the average monthly salary is only PKR 60,000–75,000. After paying rent, food, and transport, there is little left for savings or dreams.

So, when someone leaves Pakistan for work abroad, it is not for luxury — it is for survival. In 2024 alone, more than 727,000 Pakistanis registered for overseas jobs, and by mid-2025, another 337,000

had already left — most heading to Gulf countries. Each one carries a story of sacrifice and love. They trade comfort for responsibility, distance for duty, and silence for strength.

These are the unsung heroes — men who may never be honored with medals, yet they hold up the nation’s economy with their bare hands. Their sacrifices light the homes they left behind, and though they live far away, their hearts never really depart from the land they still call home.