Protests, containers, repeat

Islamabad, once a symbol of order and governance, has now turned into a city of perpetual chaos every weekend. For most people around the world, weekends mean family time, self-care, and unwinding from a long week. But here in Pakistan’s capital, weekends are all about bracing for impact.

By Friday afternoon, the mood shifts, people abandon their workplaces and rush home, not because they’re excited for the weekend, but because they’re racing against the inevitable road closures.

It’s a predictable cycle. The opposition party announces a protest, and the government springs into action by sealing off the city. Containers are dragged onto highways and main roads, creating blockades that turn Islamabad into an isolated fortress.

GT Road, motorways, and nearly every major connection to the capital are shut down, leaving citizens stranded. Even within the city, roadblocks on both ends of key routes make routine travel impossible. Journeys that should take minutes can stretch to hours, and that’s if you’re lucky enough to get through.

The entire approach of shutting down GT Road, a lifeline connecting major cities, isn’t just unsustainable, it’s outright reckless.

When will lawmakers, many of whom are themselves stuck in other cities unable to make it to Islamabad or Lahore for parliamentary sessions, finally question this madness?

Blocking an entire region as a knee-jerk response to political protests isn’t governance, its chaos management at its worst.

The collateral damage is staggering – and as always, the most vulnerable suffer the most. Students, young people who have come to Islamabad looking to earn a living, far from home, are forced to bear the brunt of these disruptions.

Every time tensions rise, Islamabad’s police issue orders to evacuate hostels, leaving students and working class people scrambling for shelter. Some manage to leave the city, but many are stuck, bus services grind to a halt under the guise of ‘maintenance’, and motorways are inaccessible. With nowhere to go, students are forced to rent overpriced temporary accommodations, draining their budgets while their prepaid hostels sit empty.

It’s a brutal reality for those simply trying to study and work and build a better future. The economic toll extends even further. Ambulances carrying critical patients find themselves trapped in traffic jams, unable to reach hospitals in time.

Wedding days meant to be joyous and celebratory are ruined as guests can’t make it, vendors are delayed, and plans fall apart.

Local businesses, already struggling to stay afloat, face crippling losses. Islamabad’s Blue Area, the economic heart of the city, becomes a ghost town as shops close and customers disappear. Retailers, wholesalers, and restaurant owners bleed revenue in the millions each day, with no one to hold accountable.

Even more heartbreaking are the stories of people who sell off their possessions or borrow money in desperate bids to build better lives abroad, only to find themselves unable to reach the airport. With GT Road and motorways shut, these individuals, already navigating a maze of bureaucratic and financial hurdles, face yet another barrier – one they can’t afford to overcome. Their dreams of escape, of building a new life, are paused indefinitely.

Workers, the backbone of any city, are forced to make impossible choices. With public transport suspended and metros out of service, they resort to unsafe routes to reach their jobs, or they risk losing their pay for the day. Either way, they’re the ones paying the price for a political battle that has nothing to do with them.

And then there’s the digital fallout. With mobile signals blocked as part of ‘security measures’, online businesses take a direct hit. E-commerce platforms freeze, deliveries are delayed, and riders lose their daily income. Companies relying on digital operations are paralysed, and thousands of livelihoods are put on hold.

The government’s response to these disruptions reveals a cruel indifference. The focus is on defeating political rivals, not on protecting the lives and livelihoods of the people. Islamabad has become collateral damage in a high-stakes power struggle, where the elite play their games while the people are left to pick up the pieces. The city has transformed from a hub of hope and progress into a battleground of egos, where ordinary citizens suffer the consequences of decisions made far above their heads.

This chaos is unsustainable, and until lawmakers prioritise the well-being of the people over their own agendas, Islamabad’s weekends will remain a nightmare of blocked roads, broken lives, and shattered dreams.

The writer is a youth activist. He tweets/posts @mustafa_wynne