Eighteen years of rule, and the water still will not flow
On the occasion of Eid, Karachi — a city of fifteen million — found itself unable to offer its residents something as fundamental as water from a tap. For eighteen years, the Pakistan People's Party has governed Sindh province, and in that span, nearly seventy percent of Pakistan's largest city has been left to purchase what should flow freely. Jamaat-e-Islami's Hafiz Naeem has named this failure publicly, transforming a civic crisis into a political reckoning — and raising the oldest question in governance: when those who hold power refuse to see the suffering before them, who finally compels them to look?
- Nearly 70% of Karachi has gone without reliable water for over two weeks, forcing families to spend scarce money on tanker deliveries during soaring summer heat.
- The crisis struck during Eid, turning a holiday of communal celebration into a test of endurance for thousands unable to meet basic daily needs.
- JI chief Hafiz Naeem seized the moment to publicly indict the PPP's eighteen-year governance record, pointing to a Rs43 billion waste management budget he says produced nothing visible.
- Mayor Murtaza Wahab has flatly denied that a widespread shortage exists, creating a dangerous credibility gap between official statements and lived reality across dozens of neighborhoods.
- The political confrontation is sharpening, but no concrete resolution is in sight — leaving residents caught between a government that denies the crisis and an opposition that can name it but not yet fix it.
Karachi is thirsty, and the blame is loud. On Eid, Jamaat-e-Islami chief Hafiz Naeem ur Rehman stood before journalists and leveled a direct charge: the Pakistan People's Party has ruled Sindh for eighteen years and failed to fix the water that will not flow. Nearly seventy percent of the city — home to roughly fifteen million people — has gone without reliable supply for more than two weeks. With temperatures rising, residents across neighborhoods like Gulistan-e-Jauhar, Azizabad, North Nazimabad, and Liaquatabad have been forced to buy water by tanker, turning a basic necessity into a costly burden. For many families, Eid became not a celebration but a test of survival.
Hafiz Naeem used the moment strategically. He pointed to JI's own Eid arrangements — collective sacrifice sites at over one hundred fifty locations — as evidence of the party's roots in the city, then pivoted to the provincial government's failures. He singled out the Sindh Solid Waste Management Board, which he says received forty-three billion rupees and delivered little in return, with animal waste from the holiday left unmanaged across the city.
Against this, Mayor Murtaza Wahab has dismissed the crisis narrative entirely, denying that any widespread shortage exists. That contradiction — between what officials say and what residents live — has become the story's sharpest edge. When a government cannot acknowledge a problem its citizens experience daily, trust does not merely weaken; it breaks. Whether this moment of acute, visible suffering finally compels action, or quietly fades as so many crises before it have, remains the question Karachi cannot yet answer.
Karachi is thirsty, and the blame is flying. On Eid, as the city observed one of Islam's most important holidays, Hafiz Naeem ur Rehman, the chief of Jamaat-e-Islami, stood before journalists with a pointed accusation: the Pakistan People's Party has governed Sindh province for eighteen years and done nothing to fix the water that will not flow from the taps. Nearly seventy percent of Karachi—a city of roughly fifteen million people—has gone without reliable water supply for weeks. The temperature is climbing. People are buying tankers.
The crisis is not new, but it has become undeniable. Neighborhoods across the sprawling metropolis—Gulistan-e-Jauhar, Gulshan-e-Iqbal, Azizabad, Liaquatabad, North Nazimabad, Nazimabad, North Karachi, and many others—have been dry for more than two weeks. Families are spending money they do not have on water delivered by truck, a luxury that turns necessity into hardship. During Eid, when people gather to celebrate, thousands found themselves unable to meet basic needs. The holiday became a test of endurance rather than joy.
Hafiz Naeem used the moment to make a political argument. He noted that Jamaat-e-Islami had organized collective sacrifice arrangements at over one hundred fifty locations throughout the city, a tradition the party says strengthens its bond with residents. But he pivoted quickly to the failure he saw around him. The provincial government, he said, has mismanaged public funds and failed to deliver the services people depend on. He singled out the Sindh Solid Waste Management Board, which received a budget of forty-three billion rupees but, in his view, has not ensured proper cleanliness or disposal of animal waste during the holiday period.
The mayor of Karachi, Murtaza Wahab, has pushed back against the narrative of crisis, dismissing claims that the city faces a widespread water shortage. That contradiction sits at the heart of the story: officials denying a problem that residents are living with every day. The gap between what the government says and what people experience has become the real issue. When a city's leadership cannot agree on whether there is a crisis, trust erodes.
What makes this moment significant is not just the water shortage itself, but the political reckoning it has triggered. An opposition party is using a moment of public suffering to challenge the ruling party's competence and stewardship. The PPP has had nearly two decades to solve this problem. They have not. Whether that failure stems from incompetence, corruption, or structural constraints in the city's aging infrastructure remains contested. But the fact of the failure is now impossible to ignore. Karachi's residents know it. Hafiz Naeem is saying it aloud. And the question hanging over the city is whether this moment of acute crisis will finally force the government to act, or whether it will pass like so many others have.
Citas Notables
Thousands of citizens are struggling to access necessities during the Eid holidays— Hafiz Naeem ur Rehman, Jamaat-e-Islami chief
The provincial government has failed to provide adequate public services after 18 years of uninterrupted rule— Hafiz Naeem ur Rehman
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does Hafiz Naeem choose Eid specifically to make this criticism?
Because that's when the contradiction becomes visible. Eid is supposed to be about gathering, about abundance and celebration. When people are buying water tankers instead of preparing food, the failure of government becomes personal and undeniable.
The mayor says there is no citywide shortage. How does that claim hold up against the evidence?
It doesn't, really. Seventy percent of the city without water for two weeks is not a localized problem. Either the mayor is being deliberately misleading, or he's so disconnected from what's happening in neighborhoods that his denial is its own kind of failure.
Is this just political theater, or is there substance to Hafiz Naeem's critique?
Both. Yes, he's using the crisis to attack the PPP. But the crisis itself is real. People are spending money on water. That's not theater. The question is whether his party would do better, and that's where the politics comes in.
What does eighteen years of rule tell us about the PPP's priorities?
It tells us that either water infrastructure was never a priority, or the problems are so deep that even eighteen years wasn't enough to fix them. Either way, it's a damning record.
Why does the waste management budget matter in a water story?
Because it shows how the government wastes money on things that don't work. If they can't manage forty-three billion rupees for basic sanitation, why should anyone trust them with water systems?
What happens next?
That depends on whether this moment of acute crisis forces real change, or whether it becomes another complaint that fades when the temperature drops and the rains come.