October 8, 2005 — a day forever etched in Pakistan’s history. The earth shook, mountains split open, and entire towns were wiped off the map. In a matter of moments, thousands of lives were lost, and millions of dreams were buried beneath the rubble.
Now, twenty years later, the echoes of that catastrophe still reverberate through the valleys — a haunting reminder of the horror that struck that morning.
Balakot, Muzaffarabad, Bagh, Rawalakot — all these regions witnessed devastation so immense that it became a permanent scar on history. Mothers cried out for their children, children searched for their parents, and with every aftershock, another funeral was carried to rest.
Even after two decades, the wounds remain unhealed. In Balakot especially, time may have aged the scars, but it has not mended them. The grand promises of reconstruction — so proudly announced and documented — remain largely unfulfilled. Hundreds of schools still function under the open sky, hospitals and basic health units remain inactive, and Bakriyal City — once envisioned as a model town for the displaced — exists only on paper.
The question is: Where did the billions of rupees go? Funds poured in from all over the world in the name of the victims — but into whose pockets did they disappear? Every government made promises, every year memorial ceremonies were held, photos were taken, statements were issued — yet the lives of the survivors never truly changed.
Former Chief Justice Saqib Nisar took suo motu notice of the issue; social activist Shiraz Mehmood Qureshi raised his voice for the victims. But after his death, those voices faded into silence. Today, all eyes are once again on the judiciary and the government — hoping someone will finally hear the cries of the nameless graves, the homeless, and the forgotten.
The tragedy of our nation is not that disasters happen — but that we fail to learn from them. We commemorate tragedies like anniversaries, yet never extract lessons from them.
October 8 is not just a date to remember — it is a mirror, showing us that what this nation needs is not more aid, but more honesty; not speeches, but action; not condolences, but reconstruction.
It is time we stop treating October 8 as a day of remembrance and start treating it as a day of responsibility — so that no child is ever buried beneath the rubble with his schoolbooks again, no mother is ever forced to search for her child’s lifeless body, and no nation remains chained by the apathy of its own conscience.
How long will this continue?
That question still echoes…
And perhaps it will continue to do so — until justice, rebuilding, and compassion become more than mere slogans, and finally turn into reality.
