By Farwa Yaqoob
For the past three days, Skardu has been without electricity. According to reports circulating among residents, a fault at the powerhouse is responsible for the prolonged outage. But perhaps more concerning than the outage itself is the lack of clear communication from the authorities. People are left wondering: What exactly has happened? What is being done to fix it? And, most importantly, when will electricity be restored?
For residents, these are not minor questions. Three days without electricity can bring daily life to a standstill.
Students are among those suffering the most. In an age where education increasingly depends on laptops, mobile phones, internet access, and digital resources, electricity is no longer simply about turning on a light. Students need it to study, attend online sessions, charge their devices, prepare assignments and access educational material. For students preparing for examinations, losing several days of reliable electricity can have serious consequences.
The impact is equally visible among people whose daily work depends directly or indirectly on electricity. Small businesses, shops, restaurants, guesthouses, offices, tailors, workshops and other workers lose productive hours when power disappears for days. For people earning daily, a day without work can mean a day without income.
The timing makes the situation even more troubling. Skardu’s economy receives a major boost from tourism, particularly during the months when visitors arrive in large numbers. This is the period when small guesthouses, restaurants, shops, transport providers and other local businesses depend on increased economic activity to earn a significant portion of their annual income.
A sudden and prolonged electricity outage can therefore have consequences far beyond the inconvenience of sitting in darkness.
Guesthouse owners need electricity to accommodate visitors. Restaurants depend on refrigeration, cooking equipment, lighting and other appliances. Shops and businesses need electricity to operate normally. When these services become unreliable, businesses are forced to look for alternatives.
But alternatives come at a cost.
Generators require fuel and regular maintenance. Solar systems and batteries require substantial investment. For a small business or a middle-class household, these are not always affordable solutions.
This is particularly important in Skardu, where a large part of the population belongs to the middle class. Not every family has the financial capacity to install solar panels, purchase batteries or run a generator for several days. Not every shopkeeper can suddenly invest in an alternative power system because the public electricity supply has failed.
Yet this is increasingly what ordinary people are expected to do: arrange their own solutions whenever basic public services fail.
The question is, for how long?
How many times can ordinary citizens be asked to generate their own electricity, arrange their own water solutions, repair their own infrastructure or absorb the financial losses caused by service failures?
The issue is bigger than these three days.
For years, Gilgit-Baltistan’s people have been reminded of the region’s natural resources, its rivers, glaciers and enormous hydropower potential. Yet communities continue to struggle with reliable access to basic services. There is an uncomfortable contradiction in living in a region surrounded by water and hydropower potential while experiencing prolonged electricity shortages.
This is not to say that technical faults never happen. Power systems can fail, machinery can break down and repairs can take time. The real issue is what happens after the failure.
People deserve information.
If there is a technical fault, authorities should clearly explain what happened. If repairs are underway, residents should be informed about the progress. If restoration will take time, the public should know the expected timeline. Silence only increases frustration and uncertainty.
For a city increasingly dependent on tourism, this communication is even more important. Visitors, businesses and residents all need to know whether basic services can be relied upon. Tourism cannot be sustained only through beautiful landscapes and social media promotion. It also requires functioning infrastructure.
The electricity crisis also exposes a deeper inequality. Those who can afford generators, solar panels and backup batteries can find temporary alternatives. Those who cannot are left with no choice but to wait.
This means that when a basic public service fails, the burden is not shared equally. Wealthier households can buy alternatives, while middle- and lower-income families are forced to bear the full consequences.
And this is where the conversation about rights becomes important.
The people of Gilgit-Baltistan deserve access to basic necessities and reliable public services. Electricity should not be treated as a luxury that citizens must arrange for themselves whenever the system fails. People should not have to choose between spending their limited savings on household needs and purchasing equipment simply to survive prolonged power outages.
Three days without electricity may eventually be resolved. The lights may come back on. But if the underlying problems of unreliable infrastructure, limited planning and weak public communication remain unresolved, the next outage will bring the same questions all over again.
Skardu does not simply need electricity restored. It needs a power system capable of meeting the needs of its growing population, businesses and tourism economy. It needs infrastructure that can withstand the challenges of a geographically difficult and increasingly climate-vulnerable region. And above all, it needs authorities that communicate with the public when essential services fail.
People can support themselves, but self-reliance cannot become an excuse for institutional failure.
The people of Skardu have repeatedly shown resilience. They adapt, they manage and they find ways to continue. But resilience should not be mistaken for an unlimited capacity to tolerate neglect.
The question is no longer simply when the electricity will return.
The bigger question is: when will reliable electricity stop being something the people of Skardu have to struggle for?
