The year was 2013, the date May 11.
It was Election Day in Pakistan and I had never felt more helpless.
Like many of my countrymen, I too had had enough of the country’s leaders and could only see Pakistan moving towards an impending doom. Of course I wanted to do something about it; and even though I acted like there was no hope left I secretly hoped for Imran Khan to win, because to me it meant for Pakistan to (finally) win.
Just like the ’92 Cricket World Cup, I hoped the Captain would once again bring victory to my country. A country which is very dear to me and a country that will always be home to me.
Alas, I was only 15 back then. And no matter how much I wanted to go cast a vote for Pakistan, all I could do was encourage the adults around me to go vote for their homeland instead.
The results were announced, effectively crushing all my hopes like a bug. There was no victory. There was no new beginning. The light at the end of the tunnel was cut off, just like everything else would be in the next 5 years.
The year, 2018. The date, July 25.
It’s Election Day in Pakistan.
And I’m 20.
From some hidden corner of my heart, the hope rises again.
I go vote. I go vote for my Captain, I go vote for my fellow citizens. I go vote for Pakistan.
And we win.





















