DESPITE claims of an improving economy, there is a quiet struggle unfolding across Pakistan today. It does not make noise, nor does it demand attention through protest or confrontation. It lives inside normal homes, in the dim light of a single bulb, in the hesitation before turning on a fan, in the tension that fills a room when the electricity bill arrives. It is the struggle of ordinary Pakistanis trying to survive with dignity in an economy that has slowly, almost imperceptibly, slipped beyond their reach.
For years, we have debated inflation, circular debt, and fiscal reforms. But somewhere along the way, we stopped listening to the people who bear the weight of these failures. The mother who rations electricity so her children can sleep. The shopkeeper who closes early because fuel is too expensive. The young graduate whose first salary cannot cover even half of his monthly expenses. These are not abstract stories. They are the lived reality of millions of Pakistanis.
When we compare ourselves with our neighbors, the picture becomes even more sobering. Electricity in Pakistan costs around nine cents per kilowatt-hour — more expensive than India and Bangladesh. But the real burden emerges when we consider income. A Pakistani earns far less on average than citizens in both those countries. When we combine price and income, electricity feels almost two and a half times more expensive to a Pakistani than to an Indian. That is not just a statistic; it is a measure of stress, of sacrifice, of silent hardship.
The broader cost of living tells a similar story. Pakistan is no longer the cheapest country in the region. Food, rent, and transport are all rising, but utilities — especially electricity — have become the most punishing expense of all. A young professional in Islamabad earns the equivalent of $155 a month, while his cost of living exceeds $440. The math simply does not add up. And when the math does not work, dignity becomes the first casualty.
What makes this situation even more painful is that the common man is paying for problems he did not create. He is paying for inefficiencies he never benefited from, theft he never committed, losses he never caused, and policy failures he never chose. The burden has been shifted onto the very people least able to carry it. Those who tried to manage this crisis through rooftop solar systems are now being punished by a system that often works on the whims of various interest groups.
But this is not a story of despair. It is a call to responsibility — and to action. We need to start by acknowledging that affordability is not a luxury; it is a fundamental requirement for social stability. Pakistan must begin measuring the true burden of electricity on households, just as we measure inflation. Only then can we design relief that reaches the people who actually need it. Tariffs must be rationalized so that citizens in one region are not punished for the failures of another. A family in Hyderabad should not be paying three or four times more per unit than a family in Lahore. That disparity is not just unfair — it is corrosive.
Subsidies, too, must be redesigned. Instead of subsidizing units of electricity, we should be supporting households directly, based on income. A digital, targeted subsidy can protect the poor without rewarding inefficiency or encouraging waste. At the same time, we must reduce the everyday cost of living through simple, humane interventions: zero tax on essential food items, lower duties on public transport inputs, and a basic framework to stabilize rents in major cities. These are not grand reforms. They are practical steps that can ease pressure on families almost immediately.
And finally, Pakistan must embrace energy efficiency as a national mission. We waste more electricity than we can afford. Efficient fans, LED lighting, solar water heaters, and rooftop solar can reduce demand dramatically — without building a single new power plant. This is the kind of reform that empowers citizens instead of burdening them.
A nation cannot progress when its people are exhausted. Economic reform is not only about balancing books; it is about restoring dignity. It is about ensuring that a family can live without fear of the next bill, that a young person can dream without being crushed by the cost of survival, that the state stands with its citizens rather than above them. Pakistan stands at a crossroads. We can continue down the path of short-term fixes and reactive measures, or we can choose a path that places the citizen — the real engine of national strength — at the center of policy. The common Pakistani has carried the burden long enough. It is time the state carries its share.
—The writer is Ex-Chairman, National Disaster Management Authority.
