Globally, the five trillion-dollar wellness industry has commodified wellness into a fear-driven, product-centric market. Global wellness brands magnify anxieties around ageing, toxins, stress and disease to sell products that remain inaccessible to most. (The Fearmongering in the Wellness Industry Has Gone Too Far, by Emma Ginsberg, The Every Girl.)

In Pakistan, wellness feels like an imported luxury, reserved for the select few who can afford it. Boutique gyms, wellness retreats in the mountains, imported superfoods and mindfulness apps create an image of wellness that is expensive and elitist. It has turned into something you purchase, not something you live – and we are left with a consumer-driven, product-centric view of wellness. One that feels so out of reach for most Pakistanis.

But wellness was never meant to be a luxury product. It is a fundamental right that impacts how long and how well we live and how productively we contribute to society. In a country like Pakistan, where economic instability, climate stress and food insecurity are constant realities, wellness cannot remain a niche concept. It has to become part of our national conversation and policy framework – woven into health, economic and urban planning strategies – and designed to speak to everyone, not just the privileged.

We also need to be clear about what wellness is – and is not. According to Sanford OccMed, health refers to the absence of disease, while wellness is something broader. It is the active pursuit of physical, mental, emotional, social and environmental wellbeing. It is not just about treating illness; it is about creating conditions that allow people to thrive. Yet, Pakistan’s health system focuses almost entirely on treating disease, stepping in only once illness has already taken root. Wellness, by contrast, is about preventing disease through healthier environments, habits and mindsets. And it is this shift from reactive care to proactive wellness that is critical if we want to break the cycle of avoidable illnesses, healthcare burdens and lost productivity.

Wellness is not only about personal health. It is also about national economic survival. Pakistan spends approximately 1.3% of its GDP on health, one of the lowest rates in the world.

Countries that embed wellness into their development frameworks don’t see it as a cost; they see it as an investment. Finland treats wellness as an economic asset, integrating it into school systems, urban design and workplace policy. Japan prioritises active ageing, ensuring that older citizens remain healthy and economically active for longer. Costa Rica, despite limited resources, redirected military spending into healthcare and education, resulting in better health outcomes and longer life expectancy. Perhaps the most profound example comes from Dan Buettner’s research on Blue Zones, highlighted in the Netflix series Live to 100: Secrets of the Blue Zones. These are five regions around the world where people live longer, healthier lives – not because they have expensive healthcare but because their environments naturally support wellbeing. In places like Okinawa (Japan) and Nicoya (Costa Rica), people move naturally throughout their day, eat local seasonal diets, have strong social ties and live in environments designed for community, movement and purpose. It is a powerful reminder that wellness is not something you buy – it is something you design into the way you live.

This is the lesson Pakistan needs to take to heart. Wellness should not be about individual effort alone. It should be about shaping systems, cities and communities that make wellness a natural, accessible choice for everyone.

Wellness is not entirely missing from Pakistan’s story; it is disconnected. In rural communities, many wellness principles exist in practice. People walk more, eat fresh seasonal foods and rely on indigenous remedies. Their social ties and community structures offer natural emotional support. Preventive health awareness, however, is almost non-existent, and women’s health, mental health and environmental wellbeing are largely ignored. Urban areas present the opposite picture. Wealthier segments are flooded with wellness content, but it’s heavily commercialised – from expensive yoga studios to imported supplements. For working-class urban communities, wellness is almost invisible. Cramped housing, polluted air, unsafe water and a lack of safe public spaces actively work against their wellbeing.

The biggest difference between rural and urban wellness, however, is language. Rural communities understand wellness through lived practices, not the language of wellness apps or influencer campaigns. Urban wellness, on the other hand, is often detached from local culture, making it feel foreign and aspirational instead of natural and attainable.

Wellness is not only about what we eat or how much we exercise; it is also about what surrounds us. Our external environment – the streets we walk, the air we breathe, the water we drink, the aesthetic experience of our cities – all shape our wellness more than we realise. Take Karachi. The broken pavements, shrinking green spaces, visual pollution, open garbage dumps and chaotic urban sprawl all create an atmosphere of daily stress and sensory overload. None of this supports wellness. Now, imagine a Karachi where roads to hospitals are tree-lined, public parks are within walking distance, pedestrian paths are shaded and accessible to all, and water and sanitation systems work as they should. Such an environment wouldn’t just look better, it would prevent disease, reduce stress, and lower the burden on healthcare facilities. Well-designed environments are not just aesthetic improvements – they are preventive health interventions. When cities support physical movement, clean air, social interaction and beauty, they foster healthier populations. And that is wellness in action.

Any serious conversation about wellness must prioritise women’s health, not only because it matters in itself but because healthy women raise healthier children, shaping generational wellbeing. In countries where postpartum care is structured – where new mothers receive rest, nutrition and emotional support – maternal and infant health improve dramatically. In Pakistan, where postpartum care is largely left to chance and tradition, the consequences are stark. According to UNICEF, our maternal mortality rate stands at about 186 deaths per 100,000 live births, with far worse outcomes in low-income and rural areas. Many of these deaths could be prevented through basic wellness interventions – good nutrition, community-based postpartum support, and mental health check-ins. Menstrual health is similarly neglected. Millions of girls enter puberty with incomplete, inaccurate or frightening information. When periods are shrouded in shame, it erodes body confidence, trust in healthcare systems, and basic agency over their health.

Let’s face it. We know very little about the female body. Most anatomical sketches, clinical research and medical protocols are based on male bodies, treating women’s bodies as smaller, hormonally inconvenient versions of men. We don’t fully understand how women’s bodies respond to stress, medication or environmental triggers because research rarely asks. A woman is not her reproductive cycle alone – her wellness extends far beyond childbirth or menopause. Until we centre women’s health in wellness research, policy and practice, we will continue to design systems that fail half the population.

Wellness in Pakistan doesn’t need to be imported; it needs to be rediscovered, reclaimed and reimagined. It exists in our heritage of indigenous medicine, in the communal rhythms of village life, and in the spiritual and seasonal wisdom we have gradually abandoned. A true wellness movement for Pakistan would blend indigenous health wisdom, culturally grounded mental health support, clean, green, human-centred design, workplace and community wellness programmes, and women’s health and intergenerational care. Wellness is not a trend or a product. It is a right. It is the foundation for a healthier, more productive and more compassionate Pakistan. And it belongs to all of us.

Shaista Ayesha is CEO and Director, SEED Ventures and Partner, Spectreco. shaista@seedventures.org