In Pakistan, we have been conditioned to see only what those in power want us to see. Our television screens are often filled with stories of state achievements, festive narratives, and political claims of progress. But just beneath this carefully curated surface lies a crisis that continues to deepen, “the epidemic of road accidents”. Every Eid, every weekend, and every day, young lives are lost, often in entirely preventable circumstances. This Eid ul-Adha 2025, dozens of young people died simply because they went to visit friends or swim in nearby canals and rivers. Their deaths barely made the news cycle. No one asked whose responsibility it was to ensure their safety, and no one was held accountable; no suo-moto action is being recorded.

Among the most tragic manifestations of this crisis is found in Tharparkar, a land known for its culture, resilience, and beauty, but now increasingly marred by reckless motorbike driving and a complete absence of road safety enforcement. Here, motorbike accidents are claiming the lives of a generation, and their stories end not with action or reform, but with the silent mourning of shattered families. Road traffic accidents have morphed into a national health emergency. According to data from the Pakistan Bureau of Statistics and the World Health Organization (WHO), over 30,000 people die each year in Pakistan due to road crashes—a number that exceeds the average annual death toll from terrorism. While the latter sparks state-level responses and public outrage, the former continues unchecked, unspoken, and unaddressed. More than 60% of these fatalities involve motorcyclists and pedestrians, the majority being young males aged 15 to 30. These are not just numbers—they represent sons, brothers, and students who had their entire futures ahead of them.

In Tharparkar, motorcycles are now the most common and dangerous mode of transport among young people. They represent freedom, status, and masculinity. But they are also becoming symbols of grief. Young boys, often without licenses and helmets, ride recklessly through the narrow, unmarked roads of the region, shouldered by sand. Stunts, speeding, and overloading are everyday scenes, particularly in and around Mithi and other towns. As someone who has personally lost a younger brother in a road accident in Tharparkar, this issue is deeply personal. Every time I hear of another fatal crash, it feels like reliving my own loss. These are not isolated incidents; they are part of a growing pattern. And yet, there is no meaningful intervention from the authorities, nor any community-wide alarm being raised.

Pakistan’s road infrastructure, especially in rural districts like Tharparkar, is fundamentally ill-equipped to safeguard its users. Basic safety features such as road signage, adequate lighting, and marked shoulders are largely absent. Sharp bends remain unmarked, while hazardous intersections are routinely overlooked. Pedestrian paths and designated crossings are virtually non-existent, even within town areas. Where traffic signals and traffic police do not exist. A further layer of danger is added by the fact that heavy vehicles, machinery, and small motorbikes all share the same narrow roads. In any collision, it is always the smaller vehicles and their often young, unprotected riders that bear the brunt of the tragedy.

But the blame doesn’t stop at poor design. The institutions tasked with enforcing traffic laws and regulating vehicle use are either ineffective or indifferent. In Tharparkar, there’s no active traffic police force to monitor or penalize reckless drivers. Driving licenses are often not required and never verified, and underage boys frequently ride motorbikes without question.

There are no sustained road safety campaigns, no educational drives in schools, and no structured efforts to instill a culture of safety and responsibility. Most often, police and administration only respond after an accident has occurred, and even then, the response is bureaucratic and slow, with little effort made to prevent future incidents. The Civil Hospital Mithi, the only major healthcare facility in the district, is ill-equipped, understaffed, and seemingly uninterested in handling trauma and emergency cases. Victims of road accidents are often left untreated for hours, and critical patients are referred to hospitals in Hyderabad or Karachi, journeys they often do not survive. The hospital’s response to emergencies exposes a painful truth: that the lives of the poor and vulnerable in Tharparkar are not seen as worthy of urgent care or attention.

When a family rushes their injured child to the hospital after a crash, they should expect swift medical intervention. Instead, they are met with apathy, long waits, or referrals without stabilization. Many lives that could have been saved are lost due to this lack of preparedness and intent. Unlike terrorism and natural disasters, road accidents have no identifiable enemy. They don’t make the evening news. There are no press conferences, no compensations, and no commemorations. Yet their toll is greater, more frequent, and equally devastating. This silent war is being fought and lost every day in towns and villages across Pakistan.

What’s worse is that the state, society, and media all seem complicit in their silence. The lack of action and urgency shows a terrifying normalization of preventable death. We can no longer allow this issue to remain buried. Tharparkar’s political representatives, parents, teachers, and community elders must come forward and first act to restrict children not to overspeed, secondly let us raise our voices for Enforcement of helmet laws and driving age restrictions, each police check post must be assigned one traffic police officer who assures that safety protocols are followed, Mandatory licensing and driving tests, teach road safety in schools and colleges, review our road infrastructure designs,  Equipping district Hospitals with 24/7 trauma care facilities and trained staff. Provincial campaigns for road safety awareness and behavioral change. We must also promote stronger parental guidance. Parents must educate their children about the dangers of reckless driving, set boundaries, and resist the urge to provide motorbikes as gifts without ensuring safety and training.

Tharparkar has long been a symbol of resilience and culture. Its people are proud and enduring. But we cannot allow its youth to be sacrificed to a system that refuses to see their worth. Every life lost is a stolen dream, a broken home, and a stain on our collective conscience. This is not just a matter for policymakers, it is a call to every citizen, every parent, and every public official. We must act before the next road becomes a graveyard, and before another mother’s cry echoes through the desert winds. Let us stop the tears before they fall.

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Published under International Cooperation with "Sindh Courier"