PAKISTAN
Deathly processes
Naeem Sadiq
Published January 12, 2026
DAWN
IT is often said that every process has at least three versions. How the bosses think it works, how it actually works and how it ought to work. Let us consider just one routine process of how millions of Pakistanis obtain a death certificate. Our discussions with numerous senior bureaucrats revealed a stark disconnect — between the gruelling delays, confusion and endless formalities of the real process, and the neat, sanitised version that exists in the minds of process managers. This article focuses on the guaranteed merciless torment that the surviving family must undergo while struggling against a sadistic bureaucratic obstacle course, merely to get a routine death certificate.
The paragraph below describes the currently practised procedure for securing a death certificate in Pakistan.
a) Begin by completing a complex bilingual (Urdu and English) form (obtained after paying Rs200). It may be safe to say that more than 95 per cent citizens find it impossible to fill this form without seeking outside help; b) provide a hospital-issued death report — if the death occurred in a hospital; c) produce an original burial report from the graveyard; d) if more than one month has passed since the death, present an affidavit on a Rs100 non-judicial stamp paper, attested by an oath commissioner — who perhaps knows nothing about the death or the deceased. This step certainly takes many days and much more than Rs100; e) if the death occurred at home, obtain yet another affidavit on a Rs100 stamp paper, get it attested by both the oath commissioner and the local councillor, and attach a doctor’s note confirming the death. This could easily take another week or so and many more hundred rupee notes — some not entirely over the table; f) attach CNIC photocopies of the deceased, the applicant and all legal heirs; g) obtain a Family Registration Certificate from Nadra and attach it to the growing stack of documents; h) secure an NoC from every legal heir — a process that could take months, especially if relatives live in different cities or countries. This certificate, too, should be provided on a Rs100 stamp paper; i) adding salt and indignity to injury, the cantonments also require the last tax paid receipt of the house you live in.
Citizens may either spend months and thousands of rupees navigating this convoluted bureaucratic maze or pay touts and lawyers to endure the paperwork and endless runarounds on their behalf. There are others who simply give up — choosing not to report the death at all, rather than subject themselves to this ordeal. The data for the past three years suggests only about one-third deaths having been actually reported to Nadra. Likewise, nearly 60 per cent births remain invisible, either forever or until the child enrols in school — if at all.
Getting a routine death certificate is a complex process.
On the one hand, the state is meticulously fixated on documenting every arrival and departure at airports — stamping, photographing and recording every passenger. The obsession reaches absurd levels when yet another officer at the final counter rechecks the already checked passport, as if not trusting the earlier verifications. On the other hand, the state refuses to understand and execute its primary responsibility of monitoring and recording millions of arrivals and departures (births and deaths) that take place outside the airports.
It is imperative for the state to rethink and reform its approach. It ought to be the duty of the state to itself monitor and record all births and deaths in the country — without compelling the citizens to chase offices, notaries, affidavits, stamp papers, or signatures from clueless Grade-17 officers. Why remain hostage to antiquated laws when a digital network linking all hospitals, graveyards, and Lady Health Workers to Nadra could do the job seamlessly? Does no one in the government understand how the QR codes work?
Finally, the state must ensure that birth and death records are automatically linked with all relevant databases and departments. Every birth or death event should trigger nationwide notifications and actions such as stopping pension payments, blocking Sims, cancelling CNICs, freezing bank accounts, and informing agencies including the FBR, education, health, social welfare, Bureau of Statistics, population ministry, municipal bodies and police. The technology for such integrated databases has been available for decades. Pakistan too can eliminate bureaucratic roadblocks, reform its processes and fast-track towards a people-friendly future.
Published in Dawn, January 12th, 2026
IT is often said that every process has at least three versions. How the bosses think it works, how it actually works and how it ought to work. Let us consider just one routine process of how millions of Pakistanis obtain a death certificate. Our discussions with numerous senior bureaucrats revealed a stark disconnect — between the gruelling delays, confusion and endless formalities of the real process, and the neat, sanitised version that exists in the minds of process managers. This article focuses on the guaranteed merciless torment that the surviving family must undergo while struggling against a sadistic bureaucratic obstacle course, merely to get a routine death certificate.
The paragraph below describes the currently practised procedure for securing a death certificate in Pakistan.
a) Begin by completing a complex bilingual (Urdu and English) form (obtained after paying Rs200). It may be safe to say that more than 95 per cent citizens find it impossible to fill this form without seeking outside help; b) provide a hospital-issued death report — if the death occurred in a hospital; c) produce an original burial report from the graveyard; d) if more than one month has passed since the death, present an affidavit on a Rs100 non-judicial stamp paper, attested by an oath commissioner — who perhaps knows nothing about the death or the deceased. This step certainly takes many days and much more than Rs100; e) if the death occurred at home, obtain yet another affidavit on a Rs100 stamp paper, get it attested by both the oath commissioner and the local councillor, and attach a doctor’s note confirming the death. This could easily take another week or so and many more hundred rupee notes — some not entirely over the table; f) attach CNIC photocopies of the deceased, the applicant and all legal heirs; g) obtain a Family Registration Certificate from Nadra and attach it to the growing stack of documents; h) secure an NoC from every legal heir — a process that could take months, especially if relatives live in different cities or countries. This certificate, too, should be provided on a Rs100 stamp paper; i) adding salt and indignity to injury, the cantonments also require the last tax paid receipt of the house you live in.
Citizens may either spend months and thousands of rupees navigating this convoluted bureaucratic maze or pay touts and lawyers to endure the paperwork and endless runarounds on their behalf. There are others who simply give up — choosing not to report the death at all, rather than subject themselves to this ordeal. The data for the past three years suggests only about one-third deaths having been actually reported to Nadra. Likewise, nearly 60 per cent births remain invisible, either forever or until the child enrols in school — if at all.
Getting a routine death certificate is a complex process.
On the one hand, the state is meticulously fixated on documenting every arrival and departure at airports — stamping, photographing and recording every passenger. The obsession reaches absurd levels when yet another officer at the final counter rechecks the already checked passport, as if not trusting the earlier verifications. On the other hand, the state refuses to understand and execute its primary responsibility of monitoring and recording millions of arrivals and departures (births and deaths) that take place outside the airports.
It is imperative for the state to rethink and reform its approach. It ought to be the duty of the state to itself monitor and record all births and deaths in the country — without compelling the citizens to chase offices, notaries, affidavits, stamp papers, or signatures from clueless Grade-17 officers. Why remain hostage to antiquated laws when a digital network linking all hospitals, graveyards, and Lady Health Workers to Nadra could do the job seamlessly? Does no one in the government understand how the QR codes work?
Finally, the state must ensure that birth and death records are automatically linked with all relevant databases and departments. Every birth or death event should trigger nationwide notifications and actions such as stopping pension payments, blocking Sims, cancelling CNICs, freezing bank accounts, and informing agencies including the FBR, education, health, social welfare, Bureau of Statistics, population ministry, municipal bodies and police. The technology for such integrated databases has been available for decades. Pakistan too can eliminate bureaucratic roadblocks, reform its processes and fast-track towards a people-friendly future.
Published in Dawn, January 12th, 2026
Naeem Sadiq is an Occupational Health and Safety professional, also engaged in writing and advocacy on social issues. He can be reached at naeemsadiq@gmail.com and tweets @saynotoweapons
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