MAGNAV Emirates

Rizwan Zulfiqar Bhutta

Dhadak 2 A Brave Mirror to India’s Enduring Caste Discrimination

Dhadak 2 A Brave Mirror to India’s Enduring Caste Discrimination By Nida Kanwal Recently, I had the opportunity to watch Dhadak 2, a bold and emotionally jarring Hindi-language romantic drama produced by Dharma Productions, Zee Studios, and Cloud 9 Pictures. The film, a remake of the critically acclaimed 2018 Tamil film Pariyerum Perumal, left me in disbelief that such systemic injustices still persist in 2025,  not just in India, but in other parts of the world in varied forms. Sitting in London, witnessing such brutality depicted on screen was deeply disturbing. Directed with courage and clarity by Shazia Iqbal, Dhadak 2 doesn’t just tell a love story,  it holds a mirror to the social and cultural structures that continue to oppress millions. Hats off to Iqbal and the producers for bringing this important narrative to the forefront, and equal credit must go to the creators of the original Tamil version who told this powerful story first. Love in the Face of Hatred Dhadak 2 follows Nilesh, a law student from a marginalized caste, as he falls in love with Vidhi, an upper-caste classmate. Their romance becomes the target of relentless hostility and emotional trauma, primarily from Vidhi’s family, who believe that their so-called “honor” is tainted by such a union. What begins as a tender relationship soon becomes a searing commentary on caste-based discrimination in modern India. A Fictional Story Rooted in Real-Life Horrors Although fictional, the film’s narrative is grounded in a painful and ongoing reality: caste-based discrimination and social injustice that continue to impact millions in India,  particularly Dalits (formerly known as “untouchables”) and Adivasis (indigenous communities). Despite India’s 1950 Constitution abolishing untouchability and promising equal rights, caste remains a deep-rooted and often violent divide. The Many Faces of Discrimination The film subtly and powerfully reflects several forms of caste-based oppression, which are all too real in today’s India: 1. Social Segregation and Exclusion In countless rural communities, lower-caste individuals still live in separate areas, denied access to shared wells, schools, temples, or even utensils in public places. Public humiliation, classroom segregation, and social ostracism remain widespread. 2. Economic Inequality and Exploitation Caste determines much more than social standing,  it dictates livelihood. Many Dalits are still forced into degrading work like manual scavenging, despite legal bans. Access to education, employment, and entrepreneurship remains limited due to systemic bias. Land disputes are also common, with higher castes using violence to deprive Dalit communities of their ancestral lands, worsening poverty cycles. 3. Violence and Impunity Violence against Dalits and Adivasis is both widespread and underreported. Rapes, murders, and assaults often occur with little legal consequence. Victims struggle for justice in a system riddled with caste-based biases, despite protective laws like the 1989 Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act. 4. Mental and Emotional Impact The psychological toll of systemic discrimination is profound. Constant marginalization leads to depression, hopelessness, and alienation among lower-caste individuals, especially the youth trying to break the cycle. Laws Exist, But Are They Enough? India has a comprehensive legal framework meant to protect its marginalized communities. These include: Article 17 of the Constitution abolishes untouchability. The Protection of Civil Rights Act (1955), which criminalizes caste-based exclusion. The SC/ST Atrocities Act (1989) provides safeguards and fast-track courts. Yet the reality remains grim. Laws are only as effective as their enforcement, and enforcement often falters under social pressures, institutional apathy, or outright discrimination. Why Dhadak 2 Matters In an era when commercial cinema often shies away from controversy, Dhadak 2 dares to expose the uncomfortable truths of India’s caste system. It brings a regional story to a national, even global audience, compelling viewers to confront injustices they may never have imagined still exist. For international audiences, particularly those living in countries like the UK, the film is a sobering reminder that progress is not uniform across the globe. Issues of inequality, prejudice, and systemic oppression continue to persist only the forms and faces may differ. Final Thoughts Dhadak 2 is more than a film; it is a wake-up call. It forces us to question societal norms, challenge inherited prejudices, and stand up for those whose voices are still stifled. It’s a story of love caught in the crossfire of tradition and cruelty, and of a nation grappling with the ghosts of its own past. In spotlighting these harsh truths, Shazia Iqbal and her team have done more than just make a movie they’ve made a statement. One that resonates deeply, long after the credits roll.

Abdul Aziz Abdulla Al Ghurair Business Leader, Innovator, National Builder

Abdul Aziz Abdulla Al Ghurair Business Leader, Innovator, National Builder

Abdul Aziz Abdulla Al Ghurair Business Leader, Innovator, National Builder By Rizwan Zulfiqar Bhutta A Legacy Rooted in Vision The Al Ghurair Family and the UAE The story of Abdul Aziz Abdulla Al Ghurair cannot be told without first understanding the enduring legacy of his father, Abdulla Ahmad Al Ghurair, and the broader Al Ghurair family, pioneers who helped sculpt modern-day Dubai and the United Arab Emirates. The family’s entrepreneurial journey began in the 1960s when the patriarch Ahmad Al Ghurair founded Al Ghurair Group. Over time, the Group launched the UAE’s first cement factory, flour mill, sugar refinery, aluminium extrusion plant, packaging businesses, and even the iconic Al Ghurair Centre shopping mall in 1981. These ventures laid the foundation for diversified industry in the young nation and helped spark its economic transformation. Abdulla Ahmad Al Ghurair emerged as a visionary businessman and philanthropist. In the early 1960s, long before the Union in 1971, Abdulla built several schools including the very first in remote Masafi to bring education to underserved communities. His belief was simple yet profound: education strengthens individual lives and uplifts society as a whole. In 2015, he formalized his philanthropic legacy by pledging one-third of his personal wealth, AED 4.2 billion at the time, to create the Abdulla Al Ghurair Foundation for Education, a landmark gesture supporting Arab and Emirati youth through scholarships, skills-building, and digital learning platforms. Born on 1 July 1954 in Dubai, Abdul Aziz Al Ghurair graduated from California Polytechnic State University with a degree in industrial engineering and joined the family’s financial arm, Mashreq Bank, in 1977. He rose to Executive Director in 1989 and became CEO in 1990, before being appointed Chairman of Mashreq. Under his leadership, Mashreq became the first bank in the UAE to introduce ATMs, credit and debit cards, consumer loans, POS terminals, travelers’ cheques, and eventually digital banking initiatives such as Mashreq Neo and NeoBiz for SMEs. He expanded the bank’s international footprint by opening branches in New York, London, Bahrain, Qatar, Egypt, India, and Pakistan, positioning Mashreq as a global Emirati financial institution. In addition to his banking leadership, Abdul Aziz is Chairman of the Executive Committee of Al Ghurair Investment, the diversified family conglomerate active in food and resources, properties, construction, energy, mobility, and ventures. The group operates across approximately 50 countries and employs around 28,000 people. The group’s holdings include Al Ghurair Foods, which houses one of the region’s largest flour mills and the Jenan brand, along with mineral water, poultry, and animal feed. Other entities include Arabian Packaging, Taghleef Industries, Gulf Extrusions, CarsTaxi, auto distribution via EXEED, real estate developments like Al Ghurair Centre, and educational institutions such as Dar Al Marefa. In 2023, Abdulla Al Ghurair and family had an estimated net worth of approximately US 3.2 billion, which rose to around US 4 billion in 2024. Abdul Aziz personally has been estimated at around US 2.6 billion. Mashreq reported annual net profit of AED 9.01 billion in 2024, with operating income rising 24 percent, reflecting strong financial stewardship. An Enlightened Vision: The UAE and Its Future According to Father and Son Abdulla Al Ghurair viewed education not merely as policy, but as a moral obligation and civic duty. He was one of the first private citizens to invest in building schools before the formation of the UAE, guided by the philosophy that education empowers individuals, communities, and the nation. He believed that seeking an education is not only about personal achievement but also a civic and religious responsibility as Arabs and Muslims. He foresaw a modern UAE grounded in a knowledge economy, and saw his philanthropic efforts as integral to that future. Abdul Aziz has embraced and expanded his father’s philosophy with a modern, impact-driven approach. As chairman of the Foundation, he emphasizes strategic philanthropy, partnerships, measured impact, and scalable solutions over one-off gifts. He has stated that strategic philanthropy transforms lives by building ecosystems where people thrive. His signature initiative, the Abdul Aziz Al Ghurair Refugee Education Fund, launched in June 2018, targets conflict-affected youth in Jordan, Lebanon, and the UAE. With an initial commitment of US 32.6 million, it has enabled over 100,000 refugee youth, more than half of them girls, to access secondary, vocational, or tertiary education through partnerships with NGOs and universities. In the first wave, 20 selected organizations supported 48,000 young people aged 12 to 30. He also pledged US 10 million to become the lead donor of UNICEF and Islamic Development Bank’s Global Muslim Philanthropy Fund for Children, marking the first major Muslim philanthropic commitment to that platform, aiming to support health, education, and youth empowerment across Muslim-majority countries. Abdul Aziz holds strong faith in the future of the UAE. He believes that the nation’s youth are its greatest asset and that private sector leadership must invest in education, entrepreneurship, and innovation. He frequently states that modern challenges require evolution in giving. Philanthropy must become strategic, collaborative, accountable, and youth-centred. Through the Foundation, he has directed resources that have now reached over 239,400 youth, exceeding the original target by around 20 percent well before 2025. Additionally, Al Ghurair Foods signed a 50-year land-lease agreement worth over US 272.3 million in KEZAD, Abu Dhabi, for mega food-processing projects. CarsTaxi, the group’s mobility division, partnered with Al-Futtaim Toyota to introduce 1,300 Toyota Camry hybrids into its fleet, reflecting strategic diversification into sustainability. A Family Ethos of National Loyalty and Optimism What unites father and son is a deep-rooted belief in the potential of the UAE. Abdulla Al Ghurair saw the Union of the Emirates as an opportunity to transform society through infrastructure and education, including building schools and industrial foundations in remote areas before 1971. He believed education was a duty to uplift Arab youth and build capacity for a new nation. Abdul Aziz continues this vision with contemporary tools and reach. He believes in the necessity of developing future-facing skills, digital readiness, and inclusive opportunities for all young people across the Arab world. He sees the

Himalayan Pink Salt

Why “Himalayan Pink Salt” Isn’t Really from the Himalayas and Why It All Comes from Pakistan

Why “Himalayan Pink Salt” Isn’t Really from the Himalayas and Why It All Comes from Pakistan By Jane Stevens 98%  of all pink salt sold worldwide comes from Pakistan’s Khewra Salt Mine Next time you reach for a jar of Himalayan pink salt in a trendy grocery store or wellness shop, imagine this: the salt inside did not come from the Himalayas at all. In fact, it was mined hundreds of kilometers away, in the Salt Range of Pakistan’s Potohar Plateau. Yet, around the world, it is marketed as “Himalayan,” packaged in sleek containers, and sold at premium prices. The paradox lies in branding. The Real Origin of Pink Salt Pink salt is mined almost entirely in Pakistan’s Punjab province, from the ancient Khewra Salt Mine and the surrounding Salt Range. These deposits, estimated to be over 250 million years old, were discovered during the era of Alexander the Great and are now the second-largest salt reserves in the world. Despite its global label, these mines are not in the Himalayas. The Salt Range lies south of the main Himalayan mountain system, within the Potohar Plateau. This makes the term “Himalayan pink salt” geographically misleading, though it has become a powerful global brand. Pakistan’s Dominance in Supply Industry estimates confirm that 95–98% of all Himalayan pink salt sold worldwide comes from Pakistan. The Khewra mine alone produces nearly 400,000 tons annually. Other countries, including India and Nepal, have minor reserves of pinkish salt, but their contributions to the international market are negligible. Outside South Asia, Bolivia and Hawaii produce their varieties of colored salt, but these are geologically distinct and marketed under different names. Simply put, when a consumer in Europe, the Middle East, or America sprinkles “Himalayan pink salt” on their food, they are almost certainly using Pakistani salt from Khewra. Why Call It “Himalayan”? If the salt is from Pakistan’s Salt Range, why is it not marketed as “Pakistani pink salt”? The answer lies in branding, perception, and commerce: The Power of the Name: The word “Himalayan” was used as a word to evoke images of purity, ancient wisdom, and natural wellness.  A selling name but not true. A false label, yet it was made sellable. For international consumers, it sounded exotic and trustworthy. By contrast, “Pakistani salt” does not carry the same marketing allure. Because of poor projection and management of exports by the representatives in Pakistan.  Wellness and Lifestyle Marketing: The global wellness industry thrives on imagery. Associating pink salt with the Himalayas allows it to fit seamlessly into yoga culture, holistic health, and spa treatments. The “Himalayan” label simply sells better. Global Supply Chain Practices: Pakistan often exports salt in bulk at low rates, sometimes as little as $40 per ton. Foreign companies repackage it, brand it as “Himalayan,” and sell it at thousands of dollars per ton in retail markets. By the time it reaches supermarket shelves, its Pakistani identity is often erased. Pakistan’s Missed Branding Opportunity Pakistan’s role as the sole major source of pink salt is undeniable, but the country earns only a fraction of the profits. Without geographical indication (GI) protection, similar to Champagne from France or Darjeeling tea from India, Pakistan cannot legally demand that its salt be labeled with its true origin. This lack of international branding has left Pakistan dependent on raw exports while foreign companies capture the higher retail value. If Pakistan were to secure GI status for “Khewra Salt” or “Pakistani Pink Salt,” it could elevate the product’s identity and pricing power globally. The Global Pink Salt Craze Beyond kitchens, pink salt has found its way into lamps, bath salts, spa rituals, and luxury décor. Advocates tout its mineral content and potential health benefits, though many claims remain debated by scientists. Still, its aesthetic and symbolic value keep global demand strong. The irony is stark: while pink salt graces fine dining restaurants and yoga studios worldwide, the miners who extract it in Khewra often work under difficult conditions, earning very little compared to the fortunes generated abroad. Setting the Record Straight The truth is simple: there is nothing “Himalayan” about Himalayan pink salt. It comes almost entirely from Pakistan’s Salt Range, not the Himalayas. The label persists because it is powerful marketing, but it masks the real origin and undervalues Pakistan’s role in the global wellness and food industries. Until Pakistan asserts its ownership through branding, GI protection, and international campaigns, the world will continue to sprinkle pink salt on its meals without realizing its authentic story. The mine is believed to have been discovered around 326 BC during the reign of Alexander the Great. Centuries later, it gained commercial significance during the Mughal era, when salt trading began on a larger scale. Its entrance lies about 945 feet (288 meters) above sea level and stretches 2,400 feet (730 meters) deep into the mountain. The underground network is vast, covering an area of about 110 square kilometers (42 square miles). Today, the site stands as Pakistan’s largest source of salt, producing more than 350,000 tons of nearly pure halite each year. The reserves are immense, with estimates ranging between 82 million and 600 million tons.

Sonic Ecology

How Sonic Ecology Is Shaping UAE’s New Art Frontier

How Sonic Ecology Is Shaping UAE’s New Art Frontier By Hafsa Qadeer The desert is not silent. It breathes, it echoes, it hums beneath the surface. And now, artists in the UAE are turning that elusive music into a new form of expression: sonic ecology. Across the dunes of Liwa and the mangroves of Jubail, sound artists are capturing the invisible pulse of nature, birdsong, sandstorms, camel herds, even seismic vibrations, and transforming them into immersive installations and digital compositions. These aren’t field recordings. They are rituals of deep listening. Sound, here, becomes memory. At NYU Abu Dhabi, an emerging discipline has taken root: acoustic ecology fused with Gulf heritage. Scholars and artists collaborate to preserve fading sonic landscapes, like the distinct rhythm of pearl divers’ chants or the hollow resonance of traditional dhow-building yards. The aim is not nostalgia, but relevance. What does it mean to map the spirit of a place through its sound? In the new Saadiyat sound dome, visitors lie beneath an aurora of speakers projecting layered desert audio. A falcon’s cry morphs into oud strings. The wind becomes a tempo. In this chamber, the environment is composed, and the audience is the instrument. This is more than an art movement. It’s a form of climate awareness. By rendering ecological shifts audible, sonic artists invite listeners to feel environmental loss, not in charts, but in silence. One installation lets you hear the difference between coral reefs today and twenty years ago. The gap between those recordings is a quiet that screams. Artists are also creating “bio scores”, soundtracks generated from live data, like mangrove growth rates or camel migration patterns. These scores are performed live, turning scientific data into emotional resonance. The language is universal. You don’t need to understand the Gulf dialects to hear what’s being lost, or found. From Fujairah’s coastal caves to Dubai’s hyper-modern rooftops, microphones are being planted like seeds. The new galleries aren’t always visual; they’re audible. And often, they’re mobile. A new generation of UAE creatives is choosing not to paint or sculpt, but to listen, and to translate. They’re not just capturing what the desert sounds like. They’re asking what it wants to say. And we are beginning to hear it.