By Uzma Ehtasham
There is a peculiar kind of theater to South Asian diplomacy, a shadow-play of suspicions and slights where every debt repayment is read as a betrayal and every trade deal as a realignment of civilizations. Last week, Pakistan’s foreign ministry did something that, in a saner world, would be entirely unremarkable. It confirmed the return of a $2bn deposit to the United Arab Emirates. The money, held under commercial agreements, was maturing. The State Bank of Pakistan was simply paying it back, as any borrower eventually must. The spokespeople spoke of fraternal ties, of trade and defence, of people-to-people warmth. And yet, from the feverish corners of social media to the polished studios of Indian news television, this routine transaction was refashioned into a geopolitical thriller.
The truth, as is often the case, is both duller and more interesting than the speculation. For eight years, the UAE’s money sat comfortably in Pakistan’s reserves, rolled over with the easy familiarity of long-term allies. Last December, the terms changed. The rollovers grew shorter, the interest rate steeper. By April, with a $1.2bn IMF tranche on the horizon, Islamabad decided that the cost of keeping Emirati money had grown prohibitive. However, arithmetic rarely makes for a good headline and so a different narrative took flight, one that speaks directly to the desperate hopes of a neighbor. Indian media, with its characteristic breathlessness, has been working overtime to paint this as the opening salvo in a grand Gulf realignment. Pakistan, they argue, has lost the UAE. Saudi Arabia is surely next.
The war in Gaza and the shadow of the Iran-Israel confrontation have supposedly forced Riyadh and Abu Dhabi to choose sides, leaving a beleaguered Islamabad out in the cold. It is a tidy story, the kind that confirms every prejudice of those who have long wished to see Pakistan isolated. There is only one problem: it is almost certainly nonsense. What makes this moment genuinely worth pausing over is not the repayment itself, but the frantic energy with which India has tried to weaponise it. For decades, the guiding star of Indian grand strategy was the diplomatic encirclement of Pakistan. Build bridges in Kabul, cultivate Tehran, charm the Gulf monarchies, and slowly, inexorably, squeeze Islamabad until it had no friends left to call. It was a patient, cold-blooded plan. Moreover, for a while, it seemed to be working.
The UAE, in particular, had grown increasingly comfortable with a transactional relationship with New Delhi, one that sometimes came at the expense of its older, more emotional ties to Pakistan. But here is the delicious irony that no Delhi strategist dares to speak aloud. In their zeal to isolate Pakistan, the Modi government has managed to do something rather remarkable: it has isolated itself. The relentless pursuit of a majoritarian foreign policy, the curious balancing act of befriending Israel while courting the Arab street, the open contempt for multilateral forums, and the slow poisoning of relations with Canada, with the Maldives, with even the dependable Russians, have left India with fewer genuine allies than it has had in a generation. It is a peculiar kind of failure, one born of overconfidence and a profound misunderstanding of how smaller nations perceive bluster.
Pakistan, by contrast, has emerged from this season of turbulence not diminished but oddly centered. The repayment to the UAE was not a beggar’s exit but a borrower’s choice, made possible by the quiet assurance that other doors remain open. Saudi Arabia, far from calling in its loans, is reportedly preparing substantial new financing. China remains the anchor of Pakistan’s reserve stability. In addition, even as the Gulf convulses with the fires of a wider war, Islamabad has positioned itself as a voice for de-escalation, a rare neutral broker in a region that has forgotten the meaning of the word. Which brings us, perhaps unkindly, to the man in New Delhi. Narendra Modi came to power promising to make India strong, to erase the humiliations of the past, to finally put Pakistan in its place.
The strategic defeat is so complete, so self-inflicted, that one is tempted to propose a truly absurd honor. Pakistan should award Narendra Modi its highest civilian award. Think about it. No previous Indian prime minister did more to advance the cause of Pakistani isolation than Modi has done to reverse it. He has been, in the most backhanded sense, a gift. He has shown the Gulf states what kind of partner India truly is, unreliable and consumed by its own internal contradictions. He has reminded the world that bullying does not win friends. And he has handed Pakistan, through sheer incompetence of design, a regional relevance that years of careful diplomacy could not secure. “Thank you, Mr Modi”. For once, the feeling is almost mutual. Almost.
(The writer is a public health professional, journalist, and possesses expertise in health communication, having keen interest in national and international affairs, can be reached at uzma@metro-morning.com)
