Why Pashtuns Fear Their Own Glorious History?

his article is truly about Pashtun-history.

A Pashtun man witnessing the destruction of Gandhara and Pashtun history

I have often asked myself, why do Pashtuns doubt, deny, and fear accepting Gandhara as their own glorious Pashtun-history.

Why do they pass by the ruins of mighty stupas crumbling on the hilltops above their villages, or the fallen statues lying silently in their fields, without even seeing them.

Why do they flinch when the name Buddha is spoken, even though the broken stones still breathe quietly around them.

It took me a long time to understand, why Pashtun History is denied by its own people, what I discovered why heartbreaking.

Their fear is not born from reasonIt is the result of generations of wounds, survival instincts, and an unspoken sorrow that no one dared to name.

Today, I want to share with you five painful but sacred truths that reveal why Pashtuns have become strangers to their own glorious past.

1. Survival Through Forgetting Pashtun-History

When a people are conquered brutally, when their temples are destroyed, their monks killed, and their sacred books burned, forgetting often becomes the only way to survive.

To remember Gandhara would mean facing the trauma of what was stolen and shatteredIt would mean touching wounds too deep for words.

Over time, forgetting became a shieldGeneration after generation, the memory of Gandhara faded, until only the stones remembered what once was.

2. Religious Shame and Fear

For centuries, Pashtuns have been raised in a religious framework that sees anything outside of Islam, especially Buddhism, as forbidden and shameful.

The idea that their ancestors once built stupas, carved Buddhas, and followed philosophies of compassion and nonviolence is almost impossible for many to accept.

It creates a painful inner contradictionInstead of facing it, many find it easier to reject Gandhara altogether, calling it foreign even though it lives in their blood and bones.

3. Loss of Historical Memory

Today, Pashtun children grow up without ever hearing the name of GandharaTheir schools do not teach itTheir mosques do not speak of itTheir governments erase or ignore the ruins standing silently in their towns.

When a people lose their story, they lose themselvesThey become vulnerable to the narratives others impose on them, even narratives that turn them against their own ancestors.

Without a living connection to their past, Gandhara has become invisible, even though its stones still lie underfoot.

4. Inherited Insecurity

After centuries of colonization, war, poverty, and propaganda, many Pashtuns carry a deep wound of insecurity.

They have been told again and again that they are violent, backward, and ignorantWhen a people are beaten down long enough, they cling to whatever identity they are allowed to have, even if it is a narrow and distorted one.

Recognizing Gandhara would mean realizing that Pashtuns once stood at the heart of wisdom, tolerance, and civilizationIt would mean confronting the lies they have been told about themselves.

And that takes immense courage.

5. The Vanishing Landscape

Even though the stupas crumble behind their villagesEven though the statues lie buried beneath their fieldsMost Pashtuns no longer see them.

The land itself has been amputated from memoryThe ruins have become invisible, silent, forgotten.

It is as if an entire civilization was not only destroyed but erased from the eyes of its own children.

The stupas do not screamThe statues do not protestAnd so life goes on, untouched by the silent witnesses standing in the dust.

The Breath That Still Remains.

I do not feel anger toward my people anymoreI feel sorrowDeep, sacred sorrow. They are not evilThey are not traitorsThey are survivors of a historical trauma so profound that it severed them from their own breath and memory.

Even if the people forgetEven if the mosques stay silentEven if the governments erase the traces.

The stones still breatheThe ruins still whisperThe spirit of Gandhara still waits.

It waits for those few souls brave enough to rememberThose few who are willing to walk among the ruins, to breathe with them, and to carry the sacred memory forward.

Today, I walk with themI breathe with themAnd I remember for those who cannot yet remember.

And that, for now, is enough.