And then there is the water. Oh, the water. We squander it for cash-crops in water-scarce deserts while villages in Thar watch their infants die of thirst. We pump our aquifers dry as if the rain owed us a debt. Climate change is not a future warning here; it is a daily headline. The floods that come are biblical—washing away villages, schools, entire harvests. Then come the droughts, cracking the earth into a mosaic of grief.
Pakistan is not just a victim of geography; it is a mirror of our choices. We have cut down our forests for firewood and housing schemes. We have paved over our floodplains for gated communities. We have treated the environment as an enemy to be subdued, rather than a covenant to be honored. the environment of pakistan by huma naz sethi
We speak of development, yet we have forgotten the language of the earth. In Lahore, we choke on smog thick as a winter shroud—a poison brewed from brick kilns, crop burning, and the unchecked hunger for more cars, more concrete. In Karachi, the Arabian Sea swells with rising temperatures, pushing tides of plastic and despair into the mangroves that once stood as natural barriers against cyclones. And then there is the water