In 1947, the state of Pakistan was willed into existence through the "Two-Nation Theory"—the ideological conviction that Hindus and Muslims constitute two irreconcilable civilizations. This founding premise necessitated a clean break from the past, an attempt to sever the umbilical cord connecting the new nation to its deep-seated Indian heritage. Yet, seven decades later, a profound irony is unfolding. A nation founded on the rejection of Indian identity is experiencing an ontological crisis, as its people increasingly adopt the very cultural practices the state once sought to purge.
The current cultural landscape in Pakistan suggests a fascinating, if quiet, homecoming. It is a transition from a decades-long, state-sponsored experiment in "Arabization" back toward the primordial, indigenous roots of the subcontinent.
The "Borrowed" Identity Trap
The central tragedy of the Pakistani identity project lies in its attempt to build a nation on an "idea" rather than a thousand-year-old civilizational continuity. Unlike its neighbors, Pakistan was a modern construct that prioritized a singular, religious monolith over the vibrant, localized traditions of Punjabis, Sindhis, Balochs, Pashtuns, and Bengalis.
By attempting to flatten these ancient cultures into a religious-only identity, the state invited internal fracture. The most devastating proof of this "identity-by-omission" occurred in 1971. When the state attempted to suppress the Bengali language and culture in favor of a centralized Urdu-Islamic identity, the bond of shared religion proved insufficient to hold the nation together. The secession of Bangladesh was a clear signal that a "religious-only" identity is a brittle foundation for national unity when it ignores the linguistic and cultural realities of the soil.
The Failed Experiment of "Heuristic Arabization"
Following the trauma of 1971, the Pakistani state intensified its search for a non-Indian soul. Under the regime of Zia-ul-Haq, Pakistan underwent a period of hegemonic Arabization. History was aggressively rewritten; textbooks began the story of the nation in 712 AD with Muhammad bin Qasim’s invasion of Sindh, framing the national origin as a result of Arab conquest rather than indigenous evolution.
To facilitate this shift, the state poured resources into radical institutional changes. By the early 2000s, the influence of this project was visible in the proliferation of Islamic seminaries: official records noted over 13,000 registered Madrasas, while unofficial estimates suggested upwards of 30,000, where hundreds of thousands of Pakistani children were groomed into this new, imported identity.
This shift manifested in bizarre, almost surreal ways:
- Linguistic Erasure: The Persian-influenced "Khuda Hafiz" was systematically replaced by the Arabic "Allah Hafiz." Even phonetics were targeted; because Arabic lacks the letter 'P', some sought to mimic the pronunciation "Bakistan" or "Bunjab."
- The Date Tree Metaphor: In a literal attempt to recreate the Arabian landscape in the heart of South Asia, the government imported thousands of expensive date trees—costing roughly 25,000 PKR each—to plant across Punjab. Like the identity project itself, these invasive species were ill-suited to the local climate and largely failed to take root.
The state also sought pride in a lineage of "outsider" heroes, as noted in the source context:
"Mahmood Ghazni, Babar, Aurangzeb, Mohammad bin Qasim, these types of external figures were projected as national heroes in Pakistan. In other words, pride was not found in its indigenous history, but in external figures."
By championing these Turko-Mongol and Central Asian conquerors, the state effectively signaled that its own indigenous ancestors were the "other."
The Cold Reality of the "Ummah"
This pursuit of an Arab identity has largely been a case of unrequited love. While Pakistan has often looked to the Middle East for a sense of belonging under the banner of the "Ummah" (the global Islamic community), the ground reality is a stark social hierarchy.
Despite Pakistan’s loyalty—providing military trainers and labor—the Arab world has rarely viewed South Asian Muslims as ethnic equals. They are often viewed through the stigma of the "convert," a label that denotes a lower status in the racialized hierarchy of the Gulf. The data is sobering:
- Deportations: Between 2012 and 2015, Saudi Arabia deported approximately 40,000 Pakistani workers.
- Systemic Exploitation: Reports from the Qatar World Cup construction and beyond highlight the seizure of passports and non-payment of wages. Perhaps most harrowing is the 2009 report indicating that over 40,000 Pakistani children were exploited as camel jockeys in the Gulf.
- Turkish Racism: Even the recent fascination with Turkish culture, fueled by state-supported dramas like Ertugrul, has hit the wall of reality. Viral "Get Out Pakistan" sentiments in Turkey reveal that the Ottoman-inspired fantasy of brotherhood does not translate into respect for the South Asian diaspora.
The Return of "Forbidden" Traditions
Having been rebuffed by the cultures it tried to emulate, Pakistani society—particularly the middle and upper classes—is witnessing a grassroots resurgence of Indian civilizational practices. These are not state-sanctioned moves; they are a bottom-up reclaiming of the "forbidden."
The modern Pakistani wedding has become a theater of Hindu-origin rituals:
- The Rituals: The Haldi and Mehendi ceremonies, the Aarti (a ritual of light and veneration) performed at entrances, and the playful "ring-finding" game.
- The Sacred Echoes: The performance of Garba—a dance traditionally dedicated to the Hindu goddess Durga—represents a striking paradox for a strictly monotheistic state.
- Festivals: Basant, the kite-flying festival, has returned in a grand manner, while Holi has emerged as a "spring festival" on university campuses, signaling a departure from the rigid cultural policing of the past.
As the source context observes:
"Mind you, none of them are part of Pakistani or Islamic culture. All are Hindu culture... These are Indian civilizational practices."
The Strategy of Rebranding
However, this return to roots is accompanied by a strategic, intellectual dishonesty. To reconcile these "Indian" practices with the national ideology of 1947, many of these customs are being rebranded. Rituals of clearly Hindu origin are now frequently described as "Sindhi Culture" or "Indus Heritage."
This rebranding is a survival mechanism for the Two-Nation Theory. By relabeling the heritage as "Indus," the Pakistani elite can engage with their ancestral traditions while maintaining a state of denial regarding their shared history with India. It is a desperate pivot; when a nation lacks an original, unique civilizational story, it must eventually return to its geographic truth—and for Pakistan, that truth is inextricably South Asian.
Conclusion: The Guts to Accept History
One can remove chapters from history books and import foreign trees, but one cannot erase the civilizational gravity of the soil. The geography of Pakistan—the land of Taxila, Mohenjo-Daro, and Harappa—is the cradle of a shared South Asian story.
The "Identity Paradox" reveals that a nation’s story is only as strong as its willingness to accept the truth of its past. By hiding behind "borrowed" Arab identities or "rebranded" localisms, Pakistan remains in a state of civilizational amnesia. As the people slowly reclaim the colors, dances, and rituals of their ancestors, it raises a terminal question for the 1947 project: Can the Two-Nation Theory survive the realization that the two nations share a single, indestructible soul?
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