ByKHALID KHAN Political Analyst

Politics is the only discipline that is simultaneously an art and a science. Tragically, Imran Khan mistook it for yet another sport—something to be won through sheer personal grit and the resolve to fight till the last ball. But if politics were a game, then Khan was undoubtedly not the only player. There have always been far more seasoned and cunning players on the field. While Khan was busy shining the ball, others had already uprooted the stumps and left the ground.

No doubt, he claimed he would take two wickets with one delivery, and he kept bowling in that same aggressive style—but the pitch is now deserted. There’s no one left to take the catch. Not a single fielder remains, not even the twelfth man. Poor Aleema Khan, once the ever-dedicated twelfth player, seems exhausted, passing water bottles, wiping sweat, and watching her brother descend into political solitude. Seeing her seated alone on a pavement like a beggar woman, helpless and abandoned, was a harrowing sight.

But the real pain began long before Imran Khan declared war on all political parties and their leaders, labelling them thieves and plunderers. Even more painful was the humiliation he hurled at Maulana Fazlur Rehman’s beard and Mahmood Khan Achakzai’s traditional shawl. In truth, the eleven years of devastation in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa pale compared to the grief evoked by Aleema Khan’s fate.

Khan mocked the traditions, ethics, and social fabric of Pashtun society. He dismantled political structures, made elders targets of ridicule, weakened institutions, and distanced people from the traditional communal spaces of the hujra and the mosque. He buried political morality and turned the youth not against the system but against the state itself. He crowned the Army Chief as the father of the nation—only to later have that same father publicly cursed by his children, whom he now condemns as illegitimate.

The vacuum left by the collapse of the political order was filled not with vision but with a new, unprincipled elite—reckless and rootless. The very people who now seek to erase every trace of Imran Khan were once his greatest enablers. Khan did not become a "mahatma" overnight. The state’s most powerful minds inflated his image with massive national resources.

No one can deny that Imran Khan once commanded the support of all Pakistan, especially its youth. He indeed energised the elite class and Punjab’s political landscape. He became a household name in establishment circles. Undeniably, he exposed himself, the state, politics, and its institutions. He empowered the youth to question the powerful, curse them, and grab them by the collar. And yet—despite all this—he stands alone today.

Why? Because Imran Khan was, and remains, non-political, unscientific, non-ideological, and organizationally hollow. His solitude is born of his arrogance, narcissism, detachment from the people, delusions of grandeur, and blind self-love. He never invested in building a party structure. All power was centralised in his person. The party's organisation was neither democratic nor based on merit. No ideological, political, or organisational training was imparted to workers or leaders.

While chanting revolutionary slogans against the status quo, he handed electoral tickets, ministries, and parliamentary positions to the symbols of that same status quo. He challenged the establishment head-on without preparing his party or the country for revolution. The rebellion failed—and in its wake, he was branded not a revolutionary, but a traitor. The revolutionary can return. The traitor? Never.

People everywhere suffer from the psychological condition of “hero worship, " and Pakistanis are no exception. Most young Pakistanis never saw Bhutto or Bacha Khan in their lifetimes, yet many are still willing to die in their names. But Imran Khan is a different story altogether—he is a living legend. He will linger in the minds and hearts of Pakistanis for at least a century.

So, will those who once abandoned him continue to enjoy the spoils of power in his name?

Neither the United States nor the establishment will come to rescue Khan, nor will they offer reconciliation. The dynastic political elites? They appear to be counting down to his final rites.

Even now, a path to redemption exists—but Khan’s greatest tragedy is that he learns nothing from his mistakes. Instead, he clings to them, repeating them like a sacred mantra.

ABOUT WRITER:

Khalid Khan is a senior journalist, poet, and writer based in Peshawar, Pakistan. He covers terrorism, the tribal belt, Afghanistan, politics, and human rights, blending sharp analysis with human-centred storytelling across national and international media.