Pakistans

Karachi, Pakistan – Over a few breezy winter weeks in Karachi, boxing coach Younus Qambrani sent a steady stream of WhatsApp messages from his neighbourhood of Lyari – videos, photos, old newspaper clippings that together formed an extensive archive of how he teaches girls to throw a punch.

In one of the videos, the bearded and skullcap-clad Qambrani, 60, uses the palms of his hands and ducks as his young students practice throwing their punches. The thuds of the colliding boxing gloves and the scuff of the sneakers against the concrete floor of Qambrani’s Pak-Shaheen boxing club mask the din on the street.

Outside, motorcycles speed and sputter on narrow, labyrinthine roads, past omelettes sizzling on outdoor skillets in the many kebab bun stalls that pepper the neighbourhood of nearly 950,000 people: that is the population of Amsterdam packed into about three percent of the Dutch city’s land area.

To millions of followers of Bollywood, the Indian film industry across the border, Lyari is synonymous with brutal gang warfare waged against a perpetually grey background. It is where Bollywood’s highest grossing film of all time, Dhurandhar and its recently released sequel, Dhurandhar The Revenge are set.

The films — about a fictionalised covert mission conducted by India’s Research and Analysis Wing (R&AW) on Pakistani soil — have each earned more than $100m. In the first film, an Indian spy infiltrates Lyari’s criminal underworld and neutralises threats to India’s national security. In the sequel, the same agent continues his deep-cover operation inside Pakistan’s crime networks, again moving through Lyari’s streets.

But to Lyari locals, the neighbourhood is much more than the backdrop to blood and gore: It is a melting pot of cultures and tradition, rooted in history far deeper than Bollywood has dared to explore. It has an emerging rap and hip-hop scene, launching acts such as hip hop group, Lyari Underground, and masked rapper, Eva B, onto the national stage. The neighbourhood has also earned the nickname of Mini Brazil for being Pakistan’s mecca of football.

To be sure, Lyari has had a past rife with gang violence and unrest. Armed groups held significant influence from the mid‑2000s into the early 2010s, when battles between rival syndicates were at their peak. Gangs led by figures such as Rehman Dakait and, later, Uzair Baloch – both depicted in the Dhurandhar film and its sequel – turned parts of the neighbourhood into a militarised conflict zone. At the height of the violence, human rights groups reported about 800 people killed in Karachi in a single year, many of them in and around Lyari.

In 2012, the government launched what became known as Operation Lyari, a major crackdown in which police, backed by the Sindh Rangers paramilitary force, moved against armed groups in the area. The operation, and subsequent security campaigns, dismantled the main gang hierarchies and largely ended the era of open, large‑scale gang warfare in Lyari, even if other forms of crime persisted.

But Lyari, said social anthropologist Adeem Suhail, has always been about much more than that period of violence.

“Think of Naples or Sicily in Italy, which are among the major cultural hubs of the country (food, literature, music, etc) despite having long been associated with Mafia violence,” Suhail, an assistant professor at Pennsylvania-based Franklin and Marshall College, told Al Jazeera.

‘Preparing for war’ — of a different kind

Qambrani has been boxing alongside his brothers for as long as he can remember. He began when he was five years old, and was introduced to the sport by his father, uncles and brothers — all boxers. Throughout his childhood, Qambrani says he was a sick and frail child. But he was determined to build muscle and throw punches like the men who had inspired him as he was growing up.

Boxing is so popular in Lyari that in 1989 boxing legend Muhammad Ali visited the neighbourhood, when he was a special guest at the Asian Games in the capital, Islamabad.

Qambrani’s high school, Haji Abdullah Haroon Government College, opened its own boxing club while he was there. He joined, but the club shut down in a few years. So he found another club a little further away and began cycling there to train.

After honing his skills there, Qambrani founded Pak Shaheen Boxing Club in 1992. “I wanted to open a club in my own area,” Qambrani said. At Pak Shaheen, he started out by teaching young boys, aged seven to 16, how to box.

A sports enthusiast, Qambrani built friendships with coaches across the city, often visiting their training centres. At a friend’s karate classes at the YMCA (Young Men’s Christian Association) in central Karachi, he noticed young girls practicing kicks and elbow strikes shoulder-to-shoulder with boys. “If girls can do karate, why not boxing?” he wondered.

Soon he began voicing this question to his peers in the local boxing community, saying he wanted to start training young girls. One of them told him that “little girls have weak brains” — a remark that left Qambrani silent.

Then he went home and began looking through news reports featuring stories of girls and women boxing internationally. He would cut out the news clippings and paste them into a notebook. “My eyes were on the whole world,” he recalled. “Girls are boxing in the outside world, why not here?” he would wonder.

So he started at home: when his daughter Anum turned three, he began playfully sparring with her. She would gaze at the many photos of her father and uncles at boxing championships, slip on his medals, and traipse into the living room, mimicking the victorious poses he struck in those pictures. “She couldn’t even run properly, but she would box,” Qambrani said.

Then, in 2013, he opened the doors of his club to young girls. Anum was 16 at the time, and became its first female member.

In 2015, several of Qambrani’s students participated in the South Asian Games, the biennial multi-sport event where athletes from Bangladesh, Bhutan, India, Maldives, Nepal, Pakistan and Sri Lanka compete against each other.

A year later, Anum won a district level championship called the Jinnah First Ever Karachi Women Boxing Championship held at a Lyari stadium. In the same year, she attended a training camp for women organised by the Sindh Boxing Association. Local media reports described this camp as the country’s first government-supported boxing event held for women.

It was Qambrani’s club where Aliya Soomro, Pakistan’s first woman to win a world boxing title, began her training. Last year, Soomro took a mere 45 seconds to knock out her opponent from Thailand to win the WBA (World Boxing Association) Asia 105-pound category.

For Qambrani, though, boxing is about more than medals and trophies. To him, it’s a vital defensive skill.

“Whoever is prepared for war is prepared for peace,” he told Al Jazeera, adding that the defenceless are the ones most likely to be attacked.

With its legion of young boxers, Lyari’s not defenceless. As its reputation and image are mangled by Bollywood, those who know the neighbourhood also turn to its history for support.

Lyari’s colonial history

It is not just the Dhurandhar films and Bollywood that Suhail, the social anthropologist, blames for what he describes as “terrible and exploitative” representations of Lyari. Journalistic and scholarly literature have been guilty too, he said.

Lyari is Karachi’s oldest recorded settlement — the earliest inhabitants of the neighbourhood came in 1728. The neighbourhood has survived British colonialism, the partition of the subcontinent, and nearly eight decades in independent Pakistan.

Suhail said Lyari had been a diverse working-class cultural hub since before the 1947 partition of British India.

Some of those working class communities were Baloch and Sindhi, because Karachi is at the tip of the southern Sindh province, which neighbours Balochistan province. Others were Marathi, Gujarati, Afghan and Siraiki migrants from labouring and artisan classes.

“This was because the British required labourers and artisans to develop Karachi into a burgeoning Indian Ocean port city.”

Suhail said that most of these labourers settled on the unplanned sides of the Lyari river, a small 50km-long seasonal river originating in the hills of Sindh, which flows through Lyari before emptying into the Arabian Sea.

“These cosmopolitan working class populations brought with them culinary traditions, dances, religious practices (multi-religious, multi-caste), songs, sports and more,” Suhail said.

He added that Lyari has a “strong cultural memory of East Africa and the Arabian Gulf, which adds to its uniqueness.” The neighbourhood is home to both Baloch and Afro-Baloch communities—people of African ancestry living in Balochistan.

Suhail explained that Lyari’s long history as a cultural hub of Karachi is often forgotten “because, after partition, the city’s demographics shifted drastically and Karachi became an Urdu-speaking Muhajir-majority city.” Muhajirs are Urdu‑speaking Muslims who migrated to Pakistan from India during and after the 1947 partition.

Sarwat Viqar, a professor of humanities at John Abbott College in Montreal, Canada, echoed Suhail’s views.

“Because Lyari has been represented one-dimensionally in the media as only a hotbed of criminality, drugs and the gang wars, what has been overlooked are the rich cultural practices that have always been part of life here,” Viqar told Al Jazeera.

Suhail added that Lyari had also consistently been at the heart of labour movements, and a base of support for reformers, anti-colonial activists and later campaigns for the rights of Pakistan’s various ethnic groups, including the Baloch, Sindhi and Pashtun communities.

“Lyari — because it was the first, most diverse, and most vibrant working-class zone as Karachi was becoming a city — also became the hub of working-class politics,” he told Al Jazeera.

But the neighbourhood’s own fortunes have also oscillated over the years.

“The degree of ‘development’ in Lyari has always been a function of how strong the working-class movement in Karachi was,” Suhail said. “When it was strong—such as in the 1930s and again in the 1970s—Lyari saw development. When ruling elites were strong, it did not.”

What Dhurandhar gets wrong

In the film, Lyari first comes into focus when a long-haired Ranveer Singh, playing undercover Indian RAW [Research and Analysis Wing] agent Jaskirat Singh Rangi, eyes the “Welcome to Lyari town” gate.

The gate looks very similar to the real one in Karachi. Other elements on screen ring familiar too: juice shop owners chanting idiosyncrasies to cajole customers; quick and garbled salams; and the somewhat unkempt colonial era architecture of old Karachi.

But then, the three-hour film’s dusty colour grading seems to wash out Lyari’s cultural depth and its vibrant subcultures.

“We can see how the obscene fetishisation of Lyari and the Baloch with violence and criminality is evident” in the film, Suhail said.

Describing Dhurandhar as “mediocre”, he said it lacks the depth of other Indian gangster films.

For example, in Ram Gopal Varma’s Satya 1998 and Anurag Kashyap’s Gangs of Wasseypur 2012, we see “culturally dense but non-apologetic depictions of Mumbaikar or Bihari gangs that understand the political economy of colonial and post-colonial state formation and how it crystallises in the gangsters portrayed,” Suhail opined.

Satya unpacks the criminal underworld of India’s metropolis Mumbai, following the titular character who arrives in Mumbai seeking a job but is falsely imprisoned and subsequently introduced to the underworld. Gangs of Wasseypur is set in a time before India’s independence in 1947 and follows power struggles, mafias and generational cycles of revenge in India’s eastern state of Jharkand.

In contrast to these films, Dhurandhar, has “heavy-handed homophobic, Islamophobic, hyper-masculine jingoism” and “the characters themselves appear to have no history at all,” Suhail added.

Unlike Lyari

Back at Qambrani’s club, 10 girls aged eight to 16 gather for an hour of sparring every day except Sunday, training for city tournaments that they compete in every two months.

Qambrani is looking to buy a folding, portable boxing ring to take school to school. His dream: to make boxing accessible to as many girls in the neighbourhood as possible. His challenge: he is struggling to find a portable ring in Pakistan and needs funding.

Dhurandhar and Bollywood do not matter at his Lyari club. Qambrani has a new generation of girl boxers to train.

At least 24 people were killed and more than 50 injured when a suicide car bomb detonated on a train carrying soldiers in Quetta, capital of the southwestern Pakistani province of Balochistan, on Sunday.

The attack came amid Pakistan’s Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif’s four-day visit to China, and the day before his meeting in Beijing with China’s President Xi Jinping, marking 75 years of diplomatic ties between the two nations.

Pakistan is among an exclusive group of countries China regards as an “all-weather strategic partner”, with ties featuring close economic, trade and security cooperation.

Responsibility for the train attack was claimed by the Balochistan Liberation Army (BLA), an armed Baloch separatist group which, apart from calling for an independent state, also strongly objects to large-scale Chinese investment in the region.

While the BLA has long carried out attacks that have killed civilians and members of the security forces in Balochistan and beyond, there has been a recent uptick in such incidents.

We examine what is behind this increase in attacks:

What happened in Sunday’s attack?

Reporting from the scene, Al Jazeera’s Kamal Hyder said several houses and buildings adjacent to the railway line were severely damaged in the blast, which caused train carriages to overturn and catch fire.

According to local media reports, a state of emergency was declared at public hospitals in Quetta, with doctors and other medical staff ordered to remain on duty.

Footage shared online showed charred vehicles and train carriages lying on their sides, with thick plumes of black smoke rising into the sky.

Pakistan has experienced several attacks by separatist groups in recent months. The attacks have increased in ferocity and have also targeted Chinese workers amid protests over Beijing-backed infrastructural projects in Balochistan.

As part of the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor project – one of the main arms of China’s “Belt and Road Initiative” designed to improve trading routes – China’s Xinjiang region has been connected to Pakistan’s deep-sea Gwadar port on the Arabian Sea in Balochistan.

Pakistani Prime Minister Sharif condemned Sunday’s train attack in Quetta in a post on X.

“Such cowardly acts of terrorism cannot weaken the resolve of the people of Pakistan. We remain steadfast in our determination to eliminate terrorism in all its forms and manifestations,” he said.

He added that while initial reports indicated a suicide bombing, this has not been officially confirmed. If it is, Yunas Samad, an emeritus professor of South Asian Studies at the University of Bradford in the UK, told Al Jazeera, “this would reflect tactics that insurgent organisations in the region have increasingly adopted over recent years”.

“There are also persistent claims regarding the circulation of sophisticated weaponry originating from stockpiles left behind after the US withdrawal from Afghanistan,” he said.

Are we seeing a new phase of armed separatist attacks in Balochistan?

According to research gathered by the independent, Islamabad-based think tank Pakistan Institute for Peace Studies, Balochistan recorded at least 254 attacks in 2025 – roughly 26 percent more than in 2024.

A December 2025 report published by independent conflict monitor Armed Conflict Location and Event Data (ACLED) found that separatists had also intensified attacks and pressure on security forces. The report said the number of attacks using improvised explosive devices (IEDs) and grenades, mainly targeting convoys and police stations, grew by more than 65 percent in the first 11 months of 2025, compared to the same time period in 2024.

The Global Terrorism Index (GTI) report this year found that there has been more Baloch armed group activity in Pakistan in 2025 as well. The GTI is an annual report published by the Australia-based independent think tank Institute for Economics and Peace (IEP).

Its 2026 report states that the BLA was responsible for Pakistan’s largest terror attack of 2025 – when the Jaffar Express, a train travelling from Quetta to Peshawar, was hijacked in March.

The BLA claimed responsibility and reported that six military personnel had been killed. Hundreds of people were taken hostage from the train, which was carrying 400 passengers.

“What can reasonably be said is that, following the earlier coordinated attack on the Jaffar Express, the Pakistani authorities appear to have intensified security measures around transport infrastructure, military personnel and key lines of communication,” Samad, of Bradford University, told Al Jazeera.

“The fact that this latest incident nevertheless occurred may suggest that militant groups retain a significant operational capability despite those efforts,” he noted.

The group stunned Pakistan’s security establishment in 2022 when it ‌stormed army and navy bases. In August 2024, militants carried out coordinated ⁠attacks across Balochistan, including highway assaults in which passengers were pulled from buses and shot after identity checks.

“While statistics in such conflicts are always contested and should be treated cautiously, they do indicate that the intensity of the conflict has not significantly diminished,” Samad said.

“Whether this constitutes an entirely ‘new phase’ is perhaps too strong a conclusion at present. However, it does appear to indicate a degree of resurgence in militant capability and confidence among sections of the Baloch insurgency.”

Who are the BLA and major Baloch armed groups?

The BLA, which has a suicide squad called the Majeed Brigade, says it is fighting for the independence of Balochistan, a province located in Pakistan’s southwest and bordering Afghanistan to the north and ⁠Iran to the west.

It is the largest of several ethnic separatist groups that have been fighting the federal government for decades. Balochistan’s mountainous border region serves as a safe haven and training ground for both Baloch separatist fighters and Islamist armed groups.

The BLA often targets infrastructure and security forces in Balochistan, but has also struck in other areas – most notably the southern port city of Karachi.

The BLA has deployed women suicide bombers, including in an attack on Chinese nationals in Karachi, and was designated a “foreign terrorist organisation” by the United States in August 2025 in a move welcomed by the Pakistani government. Analysts say BLA is particularly known for its ability to recruit young, often well-educated fighters.

The group, separately, was at the centre of tit-for-tat strikes in 2024 between Iran and Pakistan over what each said were armed group bases on each other’s territory, which brought the neighbours to the brink of war.

What is the Baloch cause?

Home to about 15 million of Pakistan’s roughly 240 million people, according to the 2023 census, Balochistan is the country’s poorest region despite its wealth of natural resources, including coal, gold, copper and gas.

These resources generate significant revenue for the federal government – unfairly, according to the BLA, which wants Balochistan’s natural wealth to belong to its people and rejects federal control over resource extraction and security.

The province is Pakistan’s largest by area, but smallest by population. It has a long Arabian Sea coastline, not far from the Gulf’s Strait of Hormuz oil shipping lane.

Balochistan is also home to one of Pakistan’s major deep-sea ports at Gwadar, a crucial trade corridor for China’s $65bn investment in the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC), a wing of President Xi Jinping’s Belt and Road initiative.

The province is home to key mining projects, including Reko Diq, which is operated by Canadian mining giant Barrick Gold and is believed to be one of the world’s largest gold and copper mines.

China also operates a gold and copper mine in Balochistan.

The province – which was annexed by Pakistan in 1948, six months after partition from India in August 1947 – has a long history of marginalisation. It has since experienced at least five separatist uprisings.

Separatist sentiment was particularly high in the 2000s, around the time the BLA emerged. Analysts of Baloch resistance movements say it was led by Balach Marri, the son of veteran Baloch nationalist leader Nawab Khair Bakhsh Marri.

After the government of military ruler Pervez Musharraf killed prominent Baloch nationalist leader Nawab Akbar Bugti in 2006, the separatist movement escalated.

Rebel fighters have targeted Pakistan’s army and Chinese interests, in particular the strategic port of Gwadar on the Arabian Sea, accusing Beijing of helping Islamabad to exploit the province. Fighters have killed Chinese citizens working in the region and attacked Beijing’s consulate and language centre in Karachi.

More recently, the BLA has also attacked civilians and migrant labourers from other provinces, a shift that officials say marks an escalation in tactics.

Pakistan accuses India and Afghanistan of backing Baloch armed fighters, an allegation both countries deny.

“Baloch separatist groups themselves have, at times, sought to internationalise their cause and last year publicly appealed for diplomatic recognition by India,” Samad said.

“However, establishing clear evidence of direct state support is considerably more difficult, and much of the discussion in this area remains politically contested.”

Hundreds of Baloch activists, many of them women, have protested in Islamabad and Balochistan over alleged abuses by security forces – accusations the government denies.

Over time, the BLA has set itself apart as a group explicitly committed to Balochistan’s full independence from Pakistan. Unlike more moderate Baloch nationalist parties, which press politically for greater provincial autonomy, the BLA has consistently rejected compromise.

Why is this significant now?

Regional stability and international investment

The attack comes as Prime Minister Sharif meets with China’s President Xi in Beijing to discuss economic and security cooperation – something the BLA is strongly opposed to.

The movement could pose a challenge to Pakistan’s attempts to retain Chinese and American investment, experts say, if it reveals a deeper instability.

The Baloch separatist movement is one of the major unresolved questions over Pakistan’s statehood. It is a constant reminder of the challenges of the Pakistani state to stay united, they say.

“More broadly, the persistence of insurgency has had implications for Pakistan’s wider political system,” Samad explained. “Security concerns in Balochistan have increasingly shaped governance and political discourse, strengthening the role of the military and security establishment in national affairs and undermining the democratisation process.”

“Internationally, the issue matters because Pakistan remains a nuclear-armed state of enormous strategic importance,” Samad told Al Jazeera.

“While speculation about state fragmentation is highly premature, any significant escalation in internal instability in a country with nuclear capabilities inevitably attracts international concern. For that reason alone, developments in Balochistan are likely to remain closely watched both regionally and globally.”

Rare-earth metals

Another major issue is that geological assessments suggest Balochistan contains 12 of the 17 rare-earth minerals on the periodic table. Rare earths are critical minerals used to manufacture a vast array of modern items, including batteries, clocks, wiring, military hardware, smartphones and semiconductors, among other technological products.

Since the start of his second term, US President Donald Trump has repeatedly pushed plans to diversify Washington’s stockpile of critical minerals in order to reduce reliance on China, which currently dominates the supply and processing of the world’s rare-earth minerals.

When Pakistan’s Prime Minister Sharif met with Trump at the White House in September 2025, he offered the US access to critical minerals and rare earths.

Then, in December 2025, the US announced a $1.25bn investment in critical minerals mining at Reko Diq to drive “economic growth in Balochistan”.

The Balochistan Liberation Army claimed responsibility for a train bombing that killed at least 30 people in Pakistan. Kamran Bokhari of the Middle East Policy Council argues that the separatist BLA is timing its attacks to exploit Pakistan’s other entanglements.

Rawalpindi, Pakistan – On a cold January morning, Anum Shakoor gallops across a field, wrapped in a black shawl that billows behind her as she charges forward, a 1.8-metre (6ft) lance gripped tightly in her hand.

The 30-year-old has already claimed her first peg. The second lies close ahead.

Her horse tears across the dry earth, kicking up a cloud of dust that hangs in the air as she charges forward. A few metres out, Shakoor lowers the lance, steadying her aim and bracing for impact.

She misses by 2.5cm (1 inch).

A collective gasp ripples through the crowded bleachers. Many onlookers shake their heads. Some look away.

Shakoor exhales and slows her horse to a walk. Around her are the desolate, windswept fields on the outskirts of Rawalpindi in northern Punjab province.

And there are men, most of them wearing turbans. Men with “dhol” (drums) hanging from their necks. And men whose fathers had ridden before them and their fathers before their fathers. The men who take pride in the ancient sport, some of whom perhaps are not ready to accept that women are now participating in an overwhelmingly male “neza baazi”, or tent pegging, a high-stakes sport in which horse riders gallop across a field to pierce a buried wooden target.

The field is lined with thousands of male spectators, gathered to watch the teams of riders charging one after the other at a small wooden peg buried in the ground, trying to pierce it cleanly and carry it forward on their lance.

The event is known as a “mela” in Punjabi, a carnival-like competition typically held on the outskirts of the garrison city.

The beat of drums intertwined with the sharp bursts of the shehnai (oboe), traditionally played in weddings, pierces the cold winter air. Salespeople call out to the crowds from bustling stalls selling cardamom tea and varieties of fried fritters.

Before the competition starts, riders mount their adorned horses, some of which are dressed in embroidered velvet gowns. Others have braided manes or brass bells ringing softly at their necks.

One of the 74 teams competing in this year’s mela is Shakoor’s Bint-e-Zahra Club, Pakistan’s first female-only tent-pegging club. It has three other riders: Eshal Ibrahim and Noor un Nisa Malik, both 16, and Sehrish Awan, a 32-year-old mother of two competing for the first time in a mela.

Shakoor says the club was formed in 2025 after she reached a “frustrating realisation” that female riders practised and played only in mixed clubs. “We wanted to give women riders a stage for training so they can form a community,” she says.

The women are an unusual sight at a competition that has almost entirely male riding teams, mainly male fans and even male musicians.

So when Bint-e-Zahra’s members prepare to make their run, the audience is in for a rare sight. Photographers, vloggers and locals rush to film them, surrounding them from all sides.

Ibrahim is accompanied by her mother, who trails closely behind her, keeping a careful eye on her teenage daughter.

“I cannot even take pictures of her in the crowd,” says Fatima Adeel, who accompanies Ibrahim to every mela. “I am in charge of her. I cannot leave a teenage girl alone in a sea of men.”

Shakoor agrees.

“Any woman who wants to come in this sport should be encouraged so she can gain the respect she deserves in the sport,” she says. “Our society cannot bear a woman’s lead in any field.”

‘No concept of a player’

Several kilometres away, Ayesha Khan, 22, gallops on Sawa, the horse she has ridden since she was eight, for a practice run with her club.

She was 17 when her father encouraged her to try out for the women’s national team. A year later, she was the only woman selected for Pakistan’s under-21 mixed gender team and was sent to South Africa for a tournament to compete against a team that had four girls and one boy.

“I was hit with the realisation of how tent pegging is conditioned to appear masculine in Pakistan. But my father and brothers taught me riding when I was five. I used to be the only child riding a horse between adults,” Khan says, describing herself as “addicted” to riding.

Khan joined the women’s team in 2022 and quickly worked her way up to becoming its captain. That same year, she took the women’s team to Jordan, where it competed against 13 countries.

“We came third,” Khan recalls proudly. “Yet that was the only trip that the Pakistani women’s team competed in internationally. Before that trip, never. After that, never again.”

In 2024, the International Tent Pegging Federation organised an open international competition in Jordan. Pakistan sent a men-only team although the event was open to women. It was simply assumed that only men would want to go.

“In Pakistan, we don’t have the concept of a player,” Khan tells Al Jazeera. “We have the concept of male and female. Unless there is a women-only event, our federation exclusively sends male teams.”

But Khan persisted. At 20, she became the first Pakistani woman to compete against and beat 70 male riders at a mela. Today, she captains Pakistan’s only all-women tent pegging team.

How women entered the sport

The event near Rawalpindi that Shakoor attended was organised by Samiullah Barsa, a 27-year-old United States national of Pakistani origin, as part of his wedding celebrations.

“No wedding is complete without neza baazi,” says Barsa, who is dressed in a blazing red waistcoat and cowboy boots.

His family emigrated in the 1980s from the Punjab city of Gujrat to the US state of Ohio, where they own a stable and host annual melas. Last year, their mela drew more than 2,000 visitors, Barsa says.

Barsa recalls the first time he saw women compete in tent pegging. In 2015, he attended a mela at Kot Fateh Khan in Attock district, an hour from the capital, Islamabad, and the hometown of Malik Ata, fondly remembered as “Baba-e neza baazi” (the father of tent pegging).

Ata was a politician who came from an influential feudal family in Kot Fateh Khan. He was also a legendary equestrian who organised grand melas and invited hundreds of teams from across Pakistan to compete in various equestrian sports, including neza baazi.

At the first such grand mela, Ata invited the Australian women’s tent-pegging team, setting the stage for Pakistani women to embrace the sport.

In 2021, the Equestrian Federation of Pakistan, established by Ata, sponsored six girls to train under a South African coach. Khan was among those who made the journey to South Africa. She credits Ata for laying the roots of female participation in Pakistani tent pegging.

Barsa says Ata’s contribution to the sport cannot be denied and it was time for women to have their own teams.

“Everywhere along the world, women and men have separate competition. For instance, in football or in cricket, have you ever seen women competing against men?” he asks. “When female teams lose against male teams, they lose hope and don’t come forward.”

But has it been easy for women to pursue the sport?

Not really, both Khan and Shakoor say.

‘I never gave up’

Shakoor says there is tremendous social pressure on girls and women to conform to roles defined by the patriarchy.

“My mother has told me multiple times that I have to get married. But since I am part of such a manly sport, she worries how will I get good proposals. My sister did so too, but I never gave up,” she says.

“My brother stood up for me and told my mother that I am excelling in my passion. He asked her to let me live my life.”

Khan is relatively young, so marriage is not a concern for now. But she has heard relatives whisper to her mother: “It is probably just a phase. She should focus on her studies.”

Before going to a mela, Khan tries to find out details about the organisers. With the events often spanning two or three days, she also asks whether there are separate enclosures for women. Most riding fields have none or few restrooms or spaces for prayers for women.

In Pakistan, tent pegging is mainly played in northern Punjab, where villages and spacious fields stretch along the Ravi River, allowing the horses to freely run.

Khan says many girls have reached out to her wanting to pursue tent pegging. But most of them don’t have family support. And then there are financial and structural obstacles, which compound women’s lack of access to the sport.

“Not everyone has the privilege of owning a horse, especially women, who are already restricted by society,” Ibrahim says.

Even if you are able to own one, there is a significant cost attached to their upkeep. A horse’s monthly feed averages 30,000 to 35,000 Pakistani rupees ($107 to $125), which is nearly the monthly minimum wage in Punjab. Caretaker fees and rental charges more than double that amount.

“It’s a class thing. Everything related to horses is,” Khan says. A sporting horse costs about $1,500 in Pakistan.

Shakoor agrees. She says she was able to buy a horse after saving from her monthly salary as a manager for a global microfinance network. “You can’t put a price on passion,” she says, using a Punjabi saying.

She says she puts her horse before everything, even her own meals or health. “If I am sick, I do not care about my medicine,” she says. “But I lose sleep if my horse is sick.”

But the high cost of the sport also means many opportunities are lost. Shakoor says she has missed several tent-pegging events because she could not afford to haul her horse across cities for multiple days of competitions.

“Had I had any financial support through sponsorship, I would not have missed those events,” she says.

For Barsa’s event alone, Shakoor’s team spent more than 100,000 rupees ($358), which included the cost of transporting five horses, their feed and lodging.

Similarly, at the national tent pegging trials, every rider must bring their own horse, a rule that shuts out anyone who cannot afford transport, let alone own a horse.

Awan, the 32-year-old mother of two children, used to ride horses as a hobby and began visiting melas to observe how tent pegging was played. Intrigued by the sport, she reached out to Shakoor on Instagram, asking to become a member of Bint-e-Zahra.

In recent years, videos featuring female riders have gained millions of views on Instagram and TikTok, sometimes surpassing their male counterparts. Khan and Zoya Mir, the vice captain of the national tent pegging team, run joint TikTok and Instagram accounts, Equestrians In Green, where they post about their sporting victories.

Some videos show the women playing neza baazi in slow motion, picking up a peg mid-gallop or emerging from clouds of dust dressed in their club’s gear, often set to trendy music and paired with captions that challenge the stereotypical association of horse riding with men. Some of these videos have millions of views.

But the social media visibility also comes at a cost.

Khan recalls a viral video of women riders wearing turbans at a mela, causing a backlash from veteran male riders who claimed “women were polluting the sport.”

The turban, traditionally worn by men as a mark of their social position as well as a defining part of a horse rider’s identity, takes on an added significance in neza baazi. For some, women wearing it is seen as a challenge to a space long associated with male authority.

But the riders at the Rawalpindi mela push ahead despite the vitriol. They wear their turbans with pride – Awan tying hers over a red niqab that covers half of her face while Shakoor has hers pulled low, the way her mentor taught her.

Shakoor pulls up a photo from her Instagram account, which has more than 8,000 followers. Two riders wearing turbans pluck a peg side by side. The dip of their lances, the slight sway of their bodies, the moment of lift are all nearly identical.

“This is a picture of me with my mentor Chaudry Nazakat Hussain, my true inspiration,” she says. “He encouraged me to create Bint-e-Zahra.”

Last year, a mela held in Jathli in Rawalpindi’s Tehsil Gujjar Khan had 50 participating teams with nearly 200 riders – all male except Shakoor, Ibrahim and Malik. Representing the Bint-e-Zahra Club, Shakoor fought her way into the last seven in the team captains’ round, which is a recent addition in melas in which the captain of each club runs for a position.

Shakoor, the only woman among the final seven qualifying riders, did not secure a position but considers being included a feat nonetheless. “In the captains’ round, horses are assigned to riders randomly. This minimises odds of performing better. A sportsman is known for their skill, not their horse,” she says.

Of all the lessons the sport has taught her, Shakoor says the most valuable has been courage.

“This is a sport of the brave. If you don’t have the heart for it, it’s not for you,” she says. “Passion and dedication have no gender. … We don’t want to prove we are better than men. We only want equal respect.”