Difficult Roads, Dubious Choices: Gandapur's Descent into Chaos 

By now, Munir Niazi would be demanding copyright royalties from Pakistani politics. His melancholic verses weren’t meant to describe Ali Amin Gandapur’s political journey. Still, here we are watching a man juggle contradictions with the elegance of a drunk tightrope walker on a windy day.

"کج انج وی راہواں اوکھیاں سن" — (Some roads are tough)

Especially when you built them yourself, paved with denial, funded by delusion, and patrolled by the very militants you empowered. Ali Amin Gandapur, now suddenly a champion of “no military operation in KP”, seems to have forgotten that it was his government, under the great wisdom of General Faiz Hameed and Imran Khan, that opened the gates to Taliban 2.0. They weren’t just negotiating with terrorists they were practically sending welcome baskets.

"کج گل اچ غم دا طوق وی سی"  (Some pain is personal)

But in Gandapur’s case, the pain is national. And when Interior Minister Mohsin Naqvi tweeted bluntly asking, “Who’s paying terrorist payrolls in D.I. Khan?”, Gandapur scurried for cover faster than a hangover. A sitting provincial minister is paying protection money to militants, but Gandapur would rather worry about keeping his CM seat warm and his whisky cold.

کج شہر دے لوک وی ظالم سن،
(Some people in the city were cruel…)

CRUEL people, indeed. While Gandapur claims solidarity with the anti-establishment, reality reveals he once tried to dodge PTI’s long march on November 24, only to be intercepted by his party’s workers.
And in a recent statement, Imran Khan asked him to resign if he can't fulfil his duties. Equally cruel was the PTI’s clampdown on PTM activists, who warned about Taliban resurgence years ago, warnings that were silenced, dismissed, and labelled unpatriotic. These are the people who now face Gandapur’s indignation as if truth itself was a threat
"کج ساں نوں مرن دا شوق وی سی" 
(And some just love political suicide.)
Let’s talk about Imran Khan, who called Osama Bin Laden “Shaheed” in Parliament. Let’s talk about how Ehsanullah Ehsan, the Taliban spokesperson, became a VIP guest in the PTI era, casually sipping chai in state custody until he escaped a mysterious vanishing act that Brigadier(r) Ijaz Shah (Interior Minister in PTI regime)  confirmed: Yes, we knew he slipped away on our watch. Neat.
Here lies the political tragedy: Gandapur’s denial of any military operation in KP, despite escalating militancy, is tantamount to self-inflicted political euthanasia. India used his statement as proof in the FATF against Pakistan.
Reports suggest a ministerial-level figure in DI Khan was quietly funnelling money to militants, a revelation made public by Interior Minister Mohsin Naqvi. Meanwhile, Imran Khan’s regime gave blanket acceptance to extremist figures hosting Ehsanullah Ehsan, accused of terror, as a state guest before he infamously escaped custody in 2020 (a detail confirmed by Brigadier(r) Ijaz Shah, Interior Minister in PTI Tenure).

Let’s also talk about Imran Khan’s honorary title “Taliban Khan”, not given by critics but earned through years of consistency in appeasement, public praise, and policy neglect. While soldiers bled, PTI leaders bargained.

And now the military, after losing countless jawans, has publicly declared: "We want accountability of those who brought these killers back", a message that lands directly on the desk of Mr. Gandapur, a man who refuses to let the state take action because it might anger his militant benefactors. Or perhaps he's still hoping they'll campaign for him next time around.

Ali Amin Gandapur is not just a politician. He’s an entire political genre, part tragic drama, part dark comedy, part thriller, and a whole lot of “what were they thinking?” His refusal to allow anti-terror operations isn’t bravery. It’s betrayal wrapped in bravado. And it reeks of a last-ditch effort to stay relevant in a province slowly slipping back into the grip of fear.

So yes, Munir Niazi had it right all along. The roads were tough. The pain was deep. The people were cruel.
But the real tragedy?
Some men just have a death wish.
Only this time, it's not just political suicide; it’s national security held hostage by ego, ideology, and very bad decisions.
Four lines, four tragedies, one absurd political carnival. Gandapur tried to be the hero who tames the beast, only to discover he was feeding it. Munir Niazi may have written of ancient sorrows, but today’s poetry is written in PTI press releases and ISI memos. And the moral? You can’t play both sides forever: sooner or later, someone lights the match to the double game, and the house burns down.