The Ones Who Left

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The Ones Who Left: They Gave Us Life, We Gave Them Loneliness The Ones Who Left They Gave Us Life. We Gave Them Loneliness. By: Noor M Abro Two friends were talking. One in Sharjah. One in Pakistan. "Move to Karachi. Better opportunities for your kids." "I can't. My mother is alone. My father passed a year ago. She doesn't say she's lonely—but I can hear it in her silence." "You have sisters. They'll manage. Think about your future." Think about your future. Sometimes we forget that our parents are not just part of our past—they are woven into the very future we chase. Not an obstacle. Not a responsibility to be handed over. Simply… part of us. They carried us before we could walk. They stayed awake while w...

The Silent Battles of Brilliant Pakistani Minds

The Silent Battles of Brilliant Pakistani Minds | Stories of Resilience and Dreams

The Silent Battles of Brilliant Pakistani Minds

Dreams denied, spirits unbroken

A silhouetted figure standing before doorways with mathematical equations and scattered rejection papers, symbolizing brilliant Pakistani minds facing systemic barriers while maintaining hope
Behind every rejection letter, every failed interview, every closed door, there's a brilliant mind fighting a war the world never sees. These are not just stories—they are the untold battles of a generation that refuses to surrender their dreams to a broken system.

In the quiet corners of Pakistan, away from the headlines and social media noise, there are battles being fought every single day. Not with weapons or protests, but with persistence, hope, and an unbreakable spirit that defies every rejection, every "no," every system that seems designed to crush dreams rather than nurture them.

What you're about to read isn't just journalism—it's a mirror to our society, a wake-up call to our conscience, and perhaps most importantly, a testament to the incredible strength of the human spirit when it refuses to give up.

The Spirit They Couldn't Break

Stack of books and papers on a desk with a pen, representing years of exam preparation and dedication of CSS PCS aspirants in Pakistan

Meet Atif—a name that should be written in gold in the annals of human persistence. When most people would have given up after the second or third attempt, Atif was just getting started. His story isn't just about exams; it's about what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable system.

A graduate of Quaid-e-Azam University Islamabad with a degree in Economics, Atif had one dream: to serve his country as an administrator. From 2018 to 2023, he attempted 3 CSS exams and 3 PCS exams. But the real shock comes when you see the complete picture of his journey—a list so long it will leave you speechless.

The List That Will Change Your Perspective Forever

Deputy Assistant Director NAB
Result: Failed
Assistant Director NAB
Result: Failed
Strategic Assistant
Written Test Qualified → Failed in Interview
Research Officer in Planning and Development
Written Test Passed → Failed in Interview
Assistant Director Supply Chain
Written Test Passed → Failed in Interview
ASP Prison
Written Test Passed → Failed in Interview
Assistant Protocol Officer
Written Test Passed → Failed in Interview
National Bank OG III Officer
Qualified and Selected → Rejected the offer as banking was not passion
Strategic Officer in SPSC
Written Test Passed → Failed in Interview
Sub Inspector National Motorway Authority
Written and Interview Passed → Joined but Quit as CSS/PCS attempts still left
Town Officer
Written Test Passed → Failed in Interview
Secondary School Teacher
Written Test Passed → Failed in Interview
IB GD 11th Grade Post
Written Test Passed → Failed in Interview
Assistant Director Social Welfare
Written Test Passed → Failed in Interview
Sub Inspector FIA
Written Test Passed → Failed in Physical (chest half inch short)
ZTBL Bank Officer
Qualified → Rejected for passion reasons
Senior Auditor in Military Courts
Written Test Passed → Failed in Interview
Custom Inspector
Written Test Passed → Failed in Interview
In words, I may have explained all my attempts in minutes, but when I look back, it is the journey of 8 years. In 2022, I successfully completed my LLB—not for law, but to increase my chances for an administrative position.

The Breaking Point and The Breakthrough:

"When I was passing tests and failing interviews one after another, I had serious doubts about my abilities. I was depressed, discouraged, and questioned everything—my skills, my communication, my studies, my knowledge. I felt there was something seriously wrong with me.

But when I qualified the interview for Sub Inspector in Motorway Police, I got my courage back. I motivated myself and realized there was nothing wrong with my abilities—this was the fault of the system."

What breaks your heart more? The fact that interviews rarely asked job-related questions, focusing instead on current affairs and general knowledge? Or that Atif continues to prepare, watching mock interviews before every attempt, refusing to let a broken system break his spirit?

Today, Atif remains hopeful. He says he will never quit and will continue working until he finds his administrative position. This isn't just a story—this is the reality of thousands of brilliant minds fighting a system that seems designed to test everything except their actual capabilities.

The Mathematician of the Sands

Mathematical equations and formulas on a blackboard, representing the genius mathematician from Thar who mastered complex mathematics despite challenging circumstances

From the challenging landscapes of Thar, Sindh—a region rich in culture and natural beauty but lacking basic infrastructure and quality education—emerged a mathematical genius whose story will make you question everything you think you know about talent and opportunity in Pakistan.

Meet Waqas, raised by laborer parents as their only child. While most would see Thar's limitations as insurmountable barriers, Waqas saw them as challenges to overcome. Despite the harsh environment and limited resources, he completed his intermediate and secured admission to a government university in Hyderabad for a Bachelor's in Mathematics.

When Genius Meets Opportunity

His parents had very little means to afford his education, but a need-based welfare scholarship became his lifeline. What happened next was nothing short of extraordinary.

Waqas wasn't just good with numbers—he was a phenomenon. He could solve complex problems in minutes that would take average students hours. His genius was so evident that teachers would seek his help in solving mathematical problems. He had become the teacher's teacher.

Then came the moment that would change everything. A US-based institute organized an international mathematics competition. Waqas registered, competed against brilliant minds from around the world, and won.

The prize? An offer to study and work in the United States—every Pakistani student's dream, handed to him on a silver platter.

But Waqas chose love over opportunity. He declined the American offer because it would mean leaving his mother and father alone—the same parents who had raised him, and being their only son, he chose to stay.

He completed his bachelor's with flying colors, a mathematical magician, king of numbers, master of equations. And then the unthinkable happened—this genius couldn't find a job.

The System That Failed a Genius

Waqas applied for a Subject Specialist Teacher position in mathematics. The written test was, in his words, "a walk in the park"—he scored over 80 marks. Then came the interview that would expose the absurdity of our system.

In an interview for a Mathematics position, they asked him geography questions. When he requested to be asked about mathematics, the interviewer said, "I know you are an expert in that."

The result? He didn't get the job. The person who did scored only 45 marks—barely passing marks. Imagine: the genius who conquered international competitions lost to someone who barely made it through a basic test, all because the system couldn't recognize brilliance when it was sitting right in front of them.

Waqas then attempted the CSS exam and passed the written test but failed in the interview—another brilliant mind caught in the web of a system that values everything except actual competence.

Today, Waqas is back in his hometown, teaching mathematics privately to students. "I need to prepare the future generation of my hometown," he says. "If I didn't get the opportunity, maybe someone from them will get it one day. I still have two CSS attempts left, and I will challenge the system."

The Coding Prodigy Crushed by Bias

Computer screen showing C++ code, representing the self-taught programmer who learned coding from his brother's registers before facing discrimination

In a small town called Khandu, far from Karachi's bustling tech scene, a coding genius was born—not in a classroom or expensive coding bootcamp, but by staring at his brother's registers filled with C++ code.

Meet Abid, who learned programming the hard way: no teachers, no YouTube tutorials, no AI tools. Just pure determination, a brother's old registers, and an unquenchable thirst to understand the logic behind every line of code.

The Self-Made Programmer

Abid would take his brother's registers and type out code, trying to understand the logic behind each line on his own. When his brother helped him with lessons and he finally got a computer to practice on, magic happened. This self-taught genius could create applications that actually worked—a remarkable feat for someone who had never formally learned programming.

After matriculation, he moved to Hyderabad for college. While other students spent lunch breaks having fun, Abid would sit in the computer lab, coding. He had obtained permission from his teacher to use the lab, and this same teacher would help him identify and correct mistakes.

For months, everything was perfect. A supportive teacher, unlimited lab access, and a genius mind absorbing everything like a sponge. Then came the turning point that would destroy a dream.

The Discrimination That Shattered Dreams

The lab introduced female students, and suddenly, everything changed. The teacher who had been supporting Abid shifted his complete focus to the female students.
After the inclusion of female students, when I would ask for help, the teacher acted rudely and would ask me to do it on my own. At the very same time, he would offer support to female students and ask them if they were facing any problems. The double standards were heart-wrenching. After some time, he wouldn't even listen to my calls—he would just nod and never come to my seat for support.

Abid was heartbroken, demotivated, brought down to the ground. His brother, who had been his support system, had left the country for further studies. He had nowhere to turn.

After college, Abid didn't continue coding. The very purpose was lost.

"Teachers are supposed to be a student's godfather, but I had a terrible experience. The ignorance, rudeness, double standards, and favoritism forced me to lose something I loved the most. For three years after college, I didn't have any courage to learn anything."

The Dream That Still Haunts

Today, when I spoke to Abid, the pain in his voice was still evident: "I still sometimes want to do it again, but I'm married now, I have a kid, I have a job. The responsibilities and schedule of the day don't allow me to get back to what I love the most."

A teacher's behavior destroyed the dream of a brilliant student. A coding prodigy was lost to bias, favoritism, and a system that failed to nurture talent equally.

8
Years of Persistence
25+
Rejections Faced
3
Dreams Deferred
Hope Remaining

The Silent Revolution

These aren't just three isolated stories—they are the tip of an iceberg that represents thousands of brilliant Pakistani minds fighting silent battles every single day. Each rejection letter, each failed interview, each closed door is a testament to a system that desperately needs reform and a generation that refuses to give up.

Atif's 8-year journey reminds us that persistence isn't just a virtue—it's a superpower that can outlast any broken system. Waqas's sacrifice for his parents shows us that genius isn't just about intelligence; it's about character. Abid's story is a wake-up call about how bias and favoritism can crush dreams before they even have a chance to flourish.

But here's what gives me hope: despite everything, they haven't given up. Atif is still appearing for exams. Waqas is preparing the next generation. And somewhere, Abid might still be dreaming of code.

Connect the Stories

If these stories moved you, you'll find similar resonance in my previous posts about the Pakistani experience:

📖 My 11 Year Search - A journey of persistence and self-discovery

🏠 The Story of Middle Class Pakistani - Real stories of struggle, hope, and resilience

The greatest revolution isn't fought in the streets—it's fought in the hearts of those who refuse to let a broken system break their dreams. These three stories aren't endings; they're beginnings of a conversation that Pakistan desperately needs to have.

What battles are you fighting silently? Share your story, because every voice matters in this revolution of hope.

Published by Rumzar Writes
© 2025 Noor M Abro

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Comments

  1. What a brilliant write up. You have concluded in a very proper way, and true that these are not just stories, it was me inside the story.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Very nice. I m really impressed by your this talent brother.

    ReplyDelete

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