The sun beats down on a bustling Rawalpindi sabzi mandi, where Ayesha, a vegetable vendor, wipes sweat from her brow. “Tomatar, piyaz—sab ke daam dhai guna ho gaye,” she sighs, her cart half-stocked as customers turn away, empty-handed. In a cramped Peshawar flat, Imran, a schoolteacher, counts rupees to skip gas for another week, his family’s dinner shrinking with each bill. This is Pakistan in April 2025, where inflation, hovering at 12-14%, and a rupee weaker than a tailender’s defense, choke the awam’s dreams. The Shehbaz Sharif-led PML-N promised naya Pakistan with economic relief, but why does every grocery run feel like a lost match? Why can’t they lift mehengai ka bojh from our shoulders?
The scoreboard is grim. A kilo of atta, once Rs90, now costs Rs130-150 in urban markets. Electricity bills for a small Karachi household hit Rs22,000, as if bijli is gold, not a right. Petrol, flirting with Rs260 per litre, mocks the motorbike riders weaving through Lahore’s traffic. The PML-N blames global storms—oil spikes, Red Sea disruptions—but their own missteps fuel the fire. Their obsession with IMF loans, like the $7 billion deal inked in 2024, binds Pakistan to brutal conditions: soaring tariffs, new taxes, a rupee left to fend for itself. Who bears the brunt? Not the elite traders in marble mansions, dodging taxes like Imran Khan sidestepping bouncers in his prime. Not the feudal lords with untaxed orchards. It’s the awam—vendors like Ayesha, teachers like Imran—stumped by a system that coddles the powerful.
This isn’t just a policy fumble; it’s a betrayal of trust. The PML-N’s talk of “macroeconomic stability” feels like a taunt when a mother in Multan skips roti to afford milk. Why should Imran’s students study by candlelight while luxury boutiques in Islamabad gleam, untaxed? Why should Ayesha’s cart empty because wholesalers hoard, unchecked? The IMF’s demands may come from Washington, but the choice to let ordinary Pakistanis shoulder them is made in Islamabad—and it’s unjust. The awam didn’t borrow billions to fatten foreign banks; they deserve a government that bats for them, not one that bowls them out.
The PML-N’s apologists might shrug: loans save the economy, global inflation is a beast, “Hum kya karein?” But that’s a weak cover drive when governance spares the elite. Pakistan’s tax-to-GDP ratio, a dismal 10.5%, could jump if traders and landlords paid up—potentially covering half the IMF’s demands. Yet, the government dances around these giants, slapping GST on essentials instead. Price controls are another sore point: where are the squads ensuring daal stays affordable? Why do power tariffs climb while circular debt balloons to Rs2.6 trillion? It’s as if the captain picks cronies for the team, leaving the awam—the true all-rounders—sidelined.
Here’s a question to ignite X debates (share it!): “Why does bijli cost more than a family’s roti?” The answer demands action, not alibis. The PML-N must rewrite the game plan, starting with a tax revolution. Tax opulence—imported perfumes, SUVs, sprawling farmhouses—not the rickshaws or gas stoves of the poor. Channel that revenue into laser-focused subsidies: cap atta at Rs90/kg, freeze power rates for homes using under 200 units, slash fuel costs for public transport. This isn’t handouts; it’s fairness. A vendor’s cart shouldn’t empty because of elite privilege.
Transparency is the next boundary to hit. Launch a “People’s Price Portal”—a digital scoreboard—tracking essentials like piyaz, chawal, and petrol. Let citizens report gouging via a free app, with tehsildars tasked to act within 48 hours. Sindh could test this, showing the PML-N’s coalition allies can deliver. Imagine the faith restored when a shopkeeper in Hyderabad sees hoarders fined after his tip-off. Imagine the relief when a father in Quetta buys sugar without dread. These are achievable if the government swaps excuses for effort.
Subsidies and portals, though, are half the innings. To tame mehengai long-term, the PML-N must break Pakistan’s addiction to loans and imports. Why not subsidize small wheat farmers—Rs5,000 per acre—to boost local supply, not just millers’ profits? Why not fund solar mini-grids, cutting reliance on costly LNG, as Nepal’s micro-hydel model shows? Digitize tax collection—think UAE’s e-VAT system—to nab evaders, freeing billions for schools, not debt. The government’s own CPEC vision—factories, roads—could pivot to food-tech parks, growing jobs and greens. These aren’t quick singles; they’re sixes for a decade of stability.
This column isn’t a dirge—it’s a rallying cry, rooted in the resilience of Pakistan’s awam. We’ve weathered storms—Zia’s shadow, 2010’s floods—and risen stronger. Envision a Pakistan where a day’s wage fills a week’s pantry, where Ayesha’s cart brims with colors, where Imran’s family dines under steady lights. The PML-N can deliver this, but only if they stop tossing googlies to their own side—the people. Tax justly, spend smartly, show the scorecard. Until then, we’ll keep shouting: “Mehengai ka bojh kab khatam hoga?”
The PML-N holds the crease. Will they play for Pakistan’s awam or just the VIP stands? That’s what The News’s readers—vendors, teachers, students, parents—want answered. Not in speeches, but in prices they can afford.
