On the one hand, we have erased from our collective memory the contributions of a vast gallery of towering figures from this region. On the other, even those whom we do hail as national heroes are rarely accepted in their totality; instead, we attempt to manage and control their posthumous public images.
Perhaps we do not celebrate Sir Ganga Ram and Bhagat Singh because they were not Muslims. We display a peculiar behaviour when it comes to acknowledging the contributions of people belonging to faiths other than Islam, even when these individuals are our countrymen or hail from areas that now constitute Pakistan.
Dilip Kumar – Yousuf Khan — holds a special place in our hearts despite the fact that whatever he achieved was the result of his work in Bollywood. Raj Kapoor — who was also a neighbour of Dilip Kumar in Peshawar — is, however, shown no such special affinity.
Maharaja Ranjeet Singh established perhaps the largest empire ever to have its capital in Lahore, yet our textbooks make little or no mention of him. While Sir Ganga Ram and Bhagat Singh were forgotten for being non-Muslims, Allama Mashriqi and Allah Bux Soomro were ignored perhaps because they opposed the All-India Muslim League and the idea of Pakistan.
What must be understood is that before 1947, Pakistan was merely an idea. Those who opposed it were not opposing their homeland; they were contesting a political concept. Once Pakistan came into being, they did not oppose the state itself.
Now to our “bona fide” national heroes.
Sir Syed Ahmad Khan is widely regarded as a founding father of Pakistan. While his educational and social contributions are duly acknowledged, his religious thought is rarely discussed — either in our textbooks or in the media. Should we not demonstrate greater intellectual integrity by accepting the reformer’s personality as a whole rather than selectively highlighting certain aspects?
The cases of Jinnah and Iqbal are even more complex. These two great men have been transformed into idealised Muslim heroes, and aspects of their lives that do not conform to this constructed ideal are conveniently omitted.
The question is: why do we do this?
Is it because the state has constructed a narrow narrative of Pakistani society, excluding whoever and whatever does not fit into it? Have we Islamised our founding figures to align them with a prescribed worldview, or do we reshape the past in order to control the present?
When nations remember only those figures who conveniently fit official narratives, they deprive younger generations of role models who embody complexity, dissent and moral courage. A mature society does not fear disagreement in its past; it learns from it. Historical plurality does not weaken national identity — it deepens it by grounding patriotism in truth rather than myth.
If Pakistan is to move forward as a confident and inclusive society, it must revisit its history with honesty and openness. This requires revising textbooks, encouraging critical scholarship and allowing space for nuanced discussions about our past. Remembering forgotten heroes is not an act of rebellion against the state; it is an affirmation of a richer, more inclusive national story – one that acknowledges diversity of faith, thought and political vision as part of our shared heritage.